percent of his legal work, everything but the litigation. He wants to set up another limited partnership to purchase another fleet of tankers, this one from the family of some dead Chink in Hong Kong. Capps is usually the general partner, and he'll bring in as many as twenty-five limited partners to spread the risk and pool their resources.
This deal is worth about sixty-five million. I've done several limited partnerships for him and they're all different, all complicated. And he is extremely difficult to deal with. He's a perfectionist and thinks he knows more than I do. You will not be talking to him. In fact, no one here talks to him but me. That file is a portion of the last partnership I did for him. It contains, among other things, a prospectus, an agreement to form a partnership, letters of intent, disclosure statements and the limited partnership agreement itself. Read every word of it. Then I want you to prepare a rough draft of the partnership agreement for this venture."
The file suddenly grew heavier. Perhaps five-thirty was not early enough.
The partner continued. "We have about forty days, according to Capps, so we're already behind. Marty Kozinski was helping with this one, and as soon as I review his file I'll give it to you. Any questions?"
"What about the research?"
"Most of it is current, but you'll need to update it. Capps earned over nine million last year and paid a pittance in taxes. He doesn't believe in paying taxes, and holds me personally responsible for every dime that's sent in. It's all legal, of course, but my point is that this is high-pressure work. Millions of dollars in investment and tax savings are at stake. The venture will be scrutinized by the governments of at least three countries. So be careful."
Mitch flipped through the documents. "How many hours a day do I work on this?"
"As many as possible. I know the bar exam is important, but so is Sonny Capps. He paid us almost a half a million last year in legal fees."
"I'll get it done."
"I know you will. As I told you, your rate is one hundred an hour. Nina will go over the time records with you today. Remember, don't ignore the billing."
"How could I forget?"
* * *
Oliver Lambert and Nathan Locke stood before the metal door on the fifth floor and stared at the camera above. Something clicked loudly and the door opened. A guard nodded. DeVasher waited in his office.
"Good morning, Ollie," he said quietly while ignoring the other partner.
"What's the latest?" Locke snapped in DeVasher's direction without looking at him.
"From where?" DeVasher asked calmly.
"Chicago."
"They're very anxious up there, Nat. Regardless of what you believe, they don't like to get their hands dirty. And, frankly, they just don't understand why they have to."
"What do you mean?"
"They're asking some tough questions, like why can't we keep our people in line?"
"And what're you telling them?"
"That everything's okay. Wonderful. The great Bendini firm is solid. The leaks have been plugged. Business as usual. No problems."
"How much damage did they do?" asked Oliver Lambert.
"We're not sure. We'll never be sure, but I don't think they ever talked. They had decided to, no doubt about that, but I don't think they did. We've got it from a pretty good source there were FBI agents en route to the island the day of the accident, so we think they planned to rendezvous to spill their guts."
"How do you know this?" asked Locke.
"Come on, Nat. We've got our sources. Plus, we had people all over the island. We do good work, you know."
"Evidently."
"Was it messy?"
"No, no. Very professional."
"How'd the native get in the way?"
"We had to make it look good, Ollie."
"What about the authorities down there?"
"What authorities? It's a tiny, peaceful island, Ollie. Last year they had one murder and four diving accidents. As far as they're concerned, it's just another accident. Three accidental drownings."
"What about the FBI?" asked Locke.
"Don't know."
"I thought you had a source."
"We do. But we can't find him. We've heard nothing as of yesterday. Our people are still on the island and they've noticed nothing unusual."
"How long will you stay there?"
"Couple of weeks."
"What happens if the FBI shows up?" asked Locke.
"We watch them real close. We'll see them when they get off the plane. We'll follow them to their hotel rooms. We may even bug their phones. We'll know what they eat for breakfast and what they talk about. We'll assign three of our guys for every one