Lamar picked up the phone. "We need to tell Avery. I think this has happened before."
"What's going on, Lamar?"
Lamar talked to Avery's secretary and said it was an emergency. In a few seconds he was on the other end. "We've got a small problem, Avery. An FBI agent contacted Mitch yesterday. He's in my office."
Lamar listened, then said to Mitch, "He's got me on hold. Said he was calling Lambert."
"I take it this is pretty serious," Mitch said.
"Yes, but don't worry. There's an explanation. It's happened before."
Lamar held the receiver closer and listened to the instructions. He hung up. "They want us in Lambert's office in ten minutes."
Avery, Royce McKnight, Oliver Lambert, Harold O'Kane and Nathan Locke were waiting. They stood nervously around the small conference table and tried to appear calm when Mitch entered the office.
"Have a seat," Nathan Locke said with a short, plastic smile. "We want you to tell us everything."
"What's that?" Mitch pointed to a tape recorder in the center of the table.
"We don't want to miss anything," Locke said, and pointed to an empty chair. Mitch sat and stared across the table at Black Eyes. Avery sat between them. No one made a sound.
"Okay. I was eating lunch yesterday at Lansky's Deli on Union. This guy walks up and sits across my table. He knows my name. Shows me a badge and says his name is Wayne Tarrance, Special Agent, FBI. I look at the badge, and it's real. He tells me he wants to meet because we'll get to know each other. They watch this firm real close and he warns me not to trust anyone. I ask him why, and he said he doesn't have time to explain, but he will later. I don't know what to say, so I just listen. He says he will contact me later. He gets up to leave and tells me they saw me at-the funerals. Then he says the deaths of Kozinski and Hodge were not accidents. And he leaves. The entire conversation lasted less than five minutes."
Black Eyes glared at Mitch and absorbed every word. "Have you ever seen this man before?"
"Never."
"Whom did you tell?"
"Only Lamar. I told him first thing this morning."
"Your wife?"
"No."
"Did he leave you a phone number to call?"
"No."
"I want to know every word that was said," Locke demanded.
"I've told you what I remember. I can't recall it verbatim."
"Are you certain?"
"Let me think a minute." A few things he would keep to himself. He stared at Black Eyes, and knew that Locke suspected more.
"Let's see. He said he saw my name in the paper and knew I was the new man here. That's it. I've covered everything. It was a very brief conversation." ,
"Try to remember everything," Locke persisted.
"I asked him if he wanted some of my tea. He declined."
The tape recorder was turned.off, and the partners seemed to relax a little. Locke walked to the window. "Mitch, we've had trouble with the FBI, as well as the IRS. It's been going on for a number of years. Some of our clients are high rollers-wealthy individuals who make millions, spend millions and expect to pay little or no taxes. They pay us thousands of dollars to legally avoid taxes. We have a reputation for being very aggressive, and we don't mind taking chances if our clients instruct us to. We're talking about very sophisticated businessmen who understand risks. They pay dearly for our creativeness. Some of the shelters and write-offs we set up have been challenged by the IRS. We've slugged it out with them in tax litigation for the past twenty years. They don't like us, we don't like them. Some of our clients have not always possessed the highest degree of ethics, and they have been investigated and harassed by the FBI. For the past three years, we, too, have been harassed.
"Tarrance is a rookie looking for a big name. He's been here less than a year and has become a thorn. You are not to speak to him again. Your brief conversation yesterday was probably recorded. He is dangerous, extremely dangerous. He does not play fair, and you'll learn soon enough that most of the feds don't play fair."
"How many of these clients have been convicted?"
"Not a single one. And we've won our share of litigation with the IRS."
"What about Kozinski and Hodge?"
"Good question," answered Oliver Lambert. "We don't know what happened. It first appeared to be an accident, but now we're not sure. There was a native of the islands on board with Marty and Joe. He was the captain and divemaster. The authorities down there now tell us they suspect he was a key link in a drug ring based in Jamaica and perhaps the explosion was aimed at him. He died, of course."
"I don't think we'll ever know," Royce McKnight added. "The police down there are not that sophisticated. We've chosen to protect the families, and as far as we're concerned, it was an accident. Frankly, we're not sure how to handle it."
"Don't breathe a word of this to anyone," Locke instructed. "Stay away from Tarrance, and if he contacts you again, let us know immediately. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Don't even tell your wife," Avery said.
Mitch nodded.
The grandfather's warmth returned to Oliver Lambert's face. He smiled and twirled his reading glasses. "Mitch, we know this is frightening, but we've grown accustomed to it.
Let us handle it, and trust us. We are not afraid of Mr. Tarrance, the FBI, the IRS or anybody else because we've done nothing wrong. Anthony Bendini built this firm by hard work, talent and uncompromising ethics. It has been drilled into all of us. Some of our clients have not been saints, but no lawyer can dictate morals to his client. We don't want you worrying about this. Stay away from this guy-he is very, very dangerous. If you feed him, he'll get bolder and become a nuisance."
Locke pointed a crooked finger at Mitch. "Further contact with Tarrance will jeopardize your future with this firm."
"I understand," Mitch said.
"He understands," Avery said defensively. Locke glared at Tolar.
"That's all we have, Mitch," Mr. Lambert said. "Be cautious."
Mitch and Lamar hit the door and found the nearest stairway.
"Get DeVasher," Locke said to Lambert, who was on the phone. Within two minutes the two senior partners had been cleared and were sitting before DeVasher's cluttered desk.
"Did you listen?" Locke asked.
"Of course I listened to it, Nat. We heard every word the boy said. You handled it real well. I think he's scared and will run from Tarrance."
"What about Lazarov?"