The Programme

CHAPTER SIX-2

“You’ve built Arnotts up on certain common principles, and you’ve got a lot of good lawyers doing similar types of work, but I can’t help wondering how many of them are committed to doing that work for the rest of their working lives, how many of them are committed to it because they don’t know anything else and perhaps fear they wouldn’t make the grade elsewhere, how many of them are committed because they’ve got no intention of staying in the law and don’t want to bother changing track before they quit, and how many of them are, well, perhaps simply scared of admitting they’d like to do something different scared of admitting it to you, that is.”

Charles scowled: she had diplomatically and prettily accounted for just about every member of the firm.

Andrew chipped in:

“If you want to keep a firm together, you have to provide plenty of space for people, plenty of room for growth and choice. We’re lawyers; that’s what stimulates us most of all: once we’ve mastered one game, we want to master another. The big firms have fallen into a trap: they have to keep turning the money over, they can’t afford to miss an hour’s billing time, so they don’t give people that room for growth and change.”

“And us? What’s the trap we’ve fallen into?”

Colin said flatly:

“We’re old and stale and we’ve nowhere new to go; damnit, Dad, it’s just plain boring.”

“You, Alistair? Are you bored, Alistair?” Charles took a last stab at the past.

“Bored? No. But criminal work’s different; every case is different - at least the cases I do. I don’t think you can say that about most of our other work. And, I’m not looking for excitement any longer: any more than you.” The ones who mattered were the youngsters - like these three, with the greater part of their careers still ahead of them.

Over coffee, they mumbled about numbers: turnover, personnel, equity shares. Alistair was the first to leave: his solitary client of the afternoon awaited. Andrew took the hint.

“We should be getting back too. Before we’re missed,” he added, only half-joking.

“I’ll ring you,” Colin said.

“I suppose we’re paying for lunch,” Charles grumbled, signalling to a waiter.

“Are you in a hurry? I wanted a word.”

“I’ve got time,” Charles was surprised that Colin, too, did not want to get back to a billable hour.

“More coffee, please,” Colin told the waiter before his father could ask for the bill.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I wanted a word about Carey.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Charles demanded.

“I’m not sure. I had a phone call. A rather odd call. Do you know Jack Gatehouse?”

“Everley Ashurst?”

“Right. It seems, they’re against us on a matter Carey’s been dealing with: divorce case; Fielding. The girl Carey brought down to the apartment.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that was Gatehouse’s type of work. Or are they wealthy?”

It had not been his impression.

“Nice girl,” he added.

“No and no. He’s the Senior Partner, rang me as Managing Partner - and as her brother, I daresay. It seems, well, I’m not really quite sure how to put this. You’ve heard of thisProgramme thing?”

“That, what do you call it? Cult? Sect? Religion?” It rang a bell, but Charles couldn’t say why.

“That’s the one. We’re acting for them.” Charles would have seen the name on the client list which was circulated to make sure no one took on a conflict of interest by accident.

“What are we doing acting for people like that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Colin brushed the question aside. “There’s a freedom of religion factor, if you like.”

Charles snorted: freedom of religion meant Marion; he was no more sympathetic than before.

“What’s the connection?”

“Well, uh, Carey’s been taking a bit more of an interest in the case than, uh, might have been expected. It seems, well, according to Gatehouse, basically, he was hinting Carey was some sort of fully-paid up member and, uh, dragging this Fielding girl into it.”

Charles sat bolt upright.

“Balls. Bloody balls. Where does he get off?”

“I think, uh, they were under a lot of pressure from the husband to make something out of it. And, uh, you have to admit, it’s not exactly the sort of thing that looks good.”

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing. I told him The Programme was a client; it was Carey’s case; Carey and his client had become friends - hardly surprising she needed a friend the way her husband had treated her - that sort of thing.” He grinned. “I told him he’d gotten hold of the wrong end of the stick and hinted in a friendly way there was a place he might like to shove it.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. I thought you ought to know about it. I, uh, it worries me, I admit.”

“She’s not a child. She knows what she’s doing. Besides, how can you stop her? You know Carey.” The last thing Charles wanted was an escalation in the recent tension between them.

“I know. I’ve been trying to decide what to do. I could take the case away from her?”

“Might as well beg her to get more involved.” He shuddered. “Religion,” he muttered darkly.

They sat in silence, equally out of depth. Colin studied his father. Quietly, he asked:

“What is it?”

For a moment, Charles was tempted to tell him that he knew something was wrong with her but she had not been willing to talk about it to him. It was too much to admit.

“Keep an eye on her, Colin. Don’t let her, well,” he drew in a breath, “don’t let her do anything stupid.”

It was the most he was going to say; Colin did not push him.

“What did you think of Andrew?” He meant Andrew’s proposal; he knew his father had always liked his friend.

“I can’t work up any enthusiasm for it, Colin; it’s not for me; I can’t see it, I can’t feel it, damnit I just can’t touch it. It’s too abstract for me: my people have been on one side, and there’s been an identifiable other side, as long as I’ve been practising - longer as a matter of fact. But I’m not going to stop it either, directly or indirectly,” he glowered at Colin. “I mean it, Colin; you’ve got Alistair interested; get the others on your side and I’ll stay out of it. Of course, I’ll come back in on the financial negotiations,” he added. The last remark came as no surprise: Colin expected no favours; nor did he expect Charles to fail to protect either his own position at the head of the firm or his financial investment in it.

“All of the others?”

“Never happen, you know that. All those lawyers. It’s as that girl - Jessica said. No, just get enough of them and I’ll stay out of it.”

“And?” Colin persisted. “Enough means?”

“Ah, Colin: she’s your sister; I wouldn’t expect you to want to do anything that made her unhappy.” He stared into his coffee, thinking: more unhappy.

Colin couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing.

“You’re an old fox, Dad; you’re banking on her, aren’t you?”

To his astonishment and to his chagrin, when Charles looked up from his coffee, there were tears in his eyes.

“I meant it. I want her to have what she wants. It’s about time, isn’t it?”

She felt like she was being summoned to the headmistress’ study, but it was only her brother’s. She had avoided him for days. The firm had lost its grip on her; she was doing days in order to get over to Chesterfield Gardens at night. Nonetheless, she did not entirely ignore the rumour-mill as it ground out the gossip: merger; new partners; new work. She knew too that Colin and Charles had lunched with Andrew Chettle.

Finally, Colin broke the deadlock and asked his secretary to arrange a mutually convenient time with Carey’s for them to spend an hour together. They met formally, across his desk, barely a peck on the cheek when she arrived.

“I haven’t seen you for a while,” he probed.

“I’ve been busy,” she murmured. “The jurisdiction hearing’s next month. The New York lawyers want Matthew to be there. I’m thinking of going with.”

“Can they afford it?” He meant her time: he was checking she was going professionally not personally.

“They’re surprisingly well resourced: there’s an accountant - George Cohen one of their members; he looks after their financial affairs. He knows what he’s doing. You could check,” she nodded towards his computer screen. “We’ve put in some good bills: they’re all paid by return. You should be pleased: we could do with more clients like them.”

For a brief moment, he was tempted to let go of his own agenda, come around from behind his desk, make her tell him what it was all about, how deep was the water she was getting into. His lips were dry: he licked them. He brushed the impulse aside: there were more important issues at stake.

“Perhaps a break would be good for you,” he closed the subject.

“If it wasn’t about The Programme, then what? These rumours?”

“Uh, yes, it’s time I brought you up to date,” he admitted. “I’ve been trying to do so for a while, but you haven’t been around.”

She nodded at the computer again.

“They talk.”

He could have e-mailed her.

“And people listen,” he replied, meaning that they weren’t safe.

“I’m here now.”

He cleared his throat.

“Well, uh, there is something else first, though. About the Fielding case.”

“Emily? That’s nothing to do with you.”

“I am the Managing Partner,” he reminded her.

“And I’m your sister; don’t be pompous.”

“I had a call: do you know Jack Gatehouse?”

“I don’t think so.” Colin told her who he was, twiddling his pen.

“Okay.”

“He wanted to raise something off the record; claimed to be doing me a favour; mentioned our relationship straight off.” He sighed. “Uh, their client is making a little bit of noise about you.”

“Sounds about right: I’m his wife’s lawyer, and her friend; he nearly spent a season in the slammer. As far as I am concerned, he should have. I’m sure he knows Emily came to the apartment in France with me. It’s not unethical, Colin, making friends with a client.”

“You’ve, uh, been taking her to The Programme with you?”

“She’s a grown woman; she’s met me there a couple of times. She’s happy there. I’m happy there. So what?”

“Well, apparently Mr Fielding isn’t happy, and he’s threatening to make waves about it.”

“About what? Who cares what Richard Fielding thinks. It’s none of his business what Emily does, or me.”

“You can hardly pretend that The Programme... Uh, well, it’s not quite a church garden party, is it?”

“It’s not illegal; and they are clients.”

“Yes. That was what I told him.”

She studied him calmly: he expected her to be first worried, then grateful; he was using the phone call from Gatehouse for his own purposes. “Look, Carey, no one’s saying there’s anything illegal about it, or, uh, unethical; but it could be an embarrassment. Especially at the moment.”

“Ah, the moment.” She lit a cigarette before looking to see if the ashtray he kept for clients and for her was on his desk, forcing him to extract it from a drawer, momentarily throwing him off his course.

“Well, look,” he began awkwardly, “I would have told you about this sooner if I could. In fact, I have been trying.”

She brushed her hand through her hair: it was a struggle to care.

“You know Andrew Chettle of course. Yes, of course you do.”

She interrupted impatiently:

“I know you and Charles had lunch with him. The place has been abuzz. I can add up. Though,” she added indifferently, “I don’t think it does.”

“Alistair, too. Alistair was there; and he thinks it does.”

“What are we talking about?” She concealed her surprise.

“Andrew’s group, they’re well, obviously this is entirely confidential but they want to make a move. And he’s approached me, us. I know it’s not an obvious marriage, but it makes a lot more sense the closer you look at it. We need to grow and change: but every time we try, it offends someone here - more than a few. The idea is, uh, instead of taking on different client-groups, to expand the areas of law we do, without keeping on coming into conflict with each other. Just think about Europe in terms of our union clients, or environmental groups.”

“What sort of package are we talking about?”

“Two full partners; four associates. A couple of support staff. We’ve got the space,” he added. “Let’s put it to use.”

She was curious despite herself.

“Tell me what Daddy says.”

Colin paraphrased her father’s intentions: a promise to stay out of the fight; and, almost by way of afterthought, that he wanted Carey to be happy.

“And will there be? A fight, I mean?” She was angry that Charles’ concern for her happiness had not been enough to make him discuss it with her directly.

“Oh, sure; take two lawyers. .. But, uh, with Alistair on-side, and Alison beginning to think it might work without causing her any client problems, well, it’s do-able.”

“I see,” Carey crushed her cigarette in the ashtray. If Charles was intending to stay out of the fray, and if both Alistair and Alison were in support, she would be the most senior dissident. She had his game plan now: if she spoke out against it, he would privately use the Fielding call to weaken her support - the hint of extraneous influence, unreliability, an embarrassment in the offing.