In the Shadow of the Law by Kermit Roosevelt

Author:Kermit Roosevelt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Published: 2011-07-08T04:00:00+00:00

27 WHERE HE WAS GOING

At seven-thirty sharp, Mark piled into a van with eighteen other Morgan Siler lawyers and began the trip to Mayfield. Looking around the interior, he saw some familiar faces. Harold Fineman, Ryan Grady, Katja. Not Walker. Walker apparently had been correct in his assessment of the situation. “Texas?” he had asked incredulously. “I don’t think so. They won’t use me for discovery. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Neither have I,” Mark pointed out, but Walker waved a dismissive hand.

“I’m a third-year,” he said. “I’m too expensive.”

The lawyers clutched the tools of their trade, coffee cups or briefcases, and hunched against the morning chill like paratroopers poised for the drop into the Norman hedgerows. The airport was crowded when they arrived, but the dark-suited phalanx cut purposeful furrows through the waiting passengers, splitting gathered families and interrupting goodbyes. It reminded Mark of something, wolves separating one of their prey from a herd, isolating it, taking it down. He lagged behind, stumbling over an unlaced shoe, feeling awkward and vulnerable. A lawyer with a broken wingtip.

On the flight, Mark found himself next to Harold. He gazed longingly toward the back of the plane, where Katja and Ryan sat. “Have you done any document production before?” Harold asked when they were airborne.

Mark looked out the window, following the Potomac as it wound through the city. Small sails moved on the river, scraps of white against the glassy blue-green. Flying is amazing, he thought, but we take it for granted. It’s an inconvenience. “How much do you think people would have paid just to get up here a hundred years ago?” he asked.

Wonderful, Harold thought. Another one of those reflective types. Probably a philosophy major or something. We should pay more attention to undergraduate degrees when we’re hiring these people. Law school can only do so much. He’d studied philosophy himself, of course, but he’d overcome it. Those days were past. Harold considered the back of Mark’s head, where the airplane seat had called a defiant cowlick to life. A nice kid, but not enough aggression. Not enough focus. He hadn’t made the transition. Perhaps he couldn’t; perhaps he lacked what it took to immerse himself in the job, to get inside it like a diver’s suit. “Are you listening to me?” Harold demanded.

The plane banked and began its westward progress; Mark glimpsed gentle scalloped waves of coastline, the site of childhood vacations. He thought of the ocean and the beach, sands that advanced and receded, those who fought them and those for whom they fought. He turned back from the window. “What?”

“Forget about it,” Harold said. “I’ll explain what to do when we get there.” He fished a compact disc player from his briefcase.

“Okay,” said Mark. He closed his eyes and tried to nap, but inactivity bred unease. I used to be able to nap. When did that stop? When did I forget how to relax? “What should I do now?”

Harold rifled through silver discs. “You can do some work, if you like,” he said.

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