The Firm Page 0,88

told me about it. ... All right, we'll be there in five minutes." He hung up. "Relax, Mitch. We've been through this before."

"I know, Avery, but this does not make sense. Why would they bother with me? I'm the newest man in."

"It's harassment, Mitch. Pure and simple. Nothing but harassment. Sit down."

Mitch walked to the window and looked at the river in the distance.

Avery was a cool liar. It was now time for the "they're just picking on us" routine. Relax, Mitch. Relax? With eight FBI agents assigned to and the Director, Mr. Denton Voyles himself, monitoring the case daily? Relax? He'd just been caught whispering to an FBI agent inside a dollar shoe store. And now he was forced to act like he was an ignorant pawn being preyed upon by the evil forces of the federal government. Harassment? Then why was the goon following him on a routine walk to the courthouse? Answer that, Avery.

"You're scared, aren't you?" Avery asked as he put his arm around him and gazed out the window.

"Not really. Locke explained it all last time. I just wish they would leave me alone."

"It's a serious matter, Mitch. Don't take it lightly. Let's walk over and see Lambert."

Mitch followed Avery around the corner and down the hall. A stranger in a black suit opened the door for them, then closed it. Lambert, Nathan Locke and Royce McKnight stood near the small conference table. Again, a tape recorder sat on the table. Mitch sat across from it. Black Eyes sat at the head of the table and glared at Mitch.

He spoke with a menacing frown. There were no smiles in the room. "Mitch, has Tarrance or anyone else from the FBI contacted you since the first meeting last August?"

"No."

"Are you certain?"

Mitch slapped the table. "Dammit! I said no! Why don't you put me under oath?"

Locke was startled. They were all startled. A heavy, tense silence followed for thirty seconds. Mitch glared at Black Eyes, who retreated ever so slightly with a casual movement of his head.

Lambert, ever the diplomat, the mediator, intervened. "Look, Mitch, we know this is frightening."

"Damn right it is. I don't like it at all. I'm minding my own business, working my ass off ninety hours a week, trying to be nothing but a good lawyer and member of this firm, and for some unknown reason I keep getting these little visits from the FBI. Now, sir, I would like some answers."

Locke pressed the red button on the recorder. "We'll talk about that in a minute. First, you tell us everything that happened."

"It's very simple, Mr. Locke. I walked to the Federal Building at ten for an appearance before Judge Kofer on the Malcolm Delaney case. I was there about an hour, and I finished my business. I left the Federal Building, and I was walking in the direction of our office - in a hurry, I might add. It's about twenty degrees out there. A block or two north of Union, this guy Tarrance came out of nowhere, grabbed my arm and pushed me into a small store. I started to knock the hell out of him, but, after all, he is an FBI agent. And I didn't want to make a scene. Inside, he tells me he wants to talk for a minute. I pulled away from him, and ran to the door. He followed me, tried to grab me, and I shoved him away. Then I ran here, went straight to Avery's office, and here we are. That's all that was said. Play by play, everything."

"What did he want to talk about?"

"I didn't give him a chance, Mr. Locke. I have no plans to talk to any FBI agent unless he has a subpoena."

"Are you sure it's the same agent?"

"I think so. I didn't recognize him at first. I haven't seen him since last August. Once inside the store, he pulled his badge and gave me his name again. At that point, I ran."

Locke pressed another button and sat back in the chair. Lambert sat behind him and smiled ever so warmly. "Listen, Mitch, we explained this last time. These guys are getting bolder and bolder. Just last month they approached Jack Aldrich while he was eating lunch in a little grill on Second Street. We're not sure what they're up to, but Tarrance is out of his mind. It's nothing but harassment."

Mitch watched his lips but heard little. As Lambert spoke, he thought of Kozinski and Hodge and their