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to let me present a joint defense on behalf of both defendants. He found, and I’m sure you will too, that if we stand together we can turn the government’s case into cheesecloth. I believe we could be a very effective team, Victor. And if you’re able to take this case, other work together could be arranged. I often used McCrae for outside counsel and gave him cases we couldn’t handle ourselves because of a conflict. He built up quite a lucrative practice that way. You could, too.”
    “I’m very interested in the other work, Mr. Prescott, very, but I just don’t think I can accept this case. The Rules of Professional Conduct won’t allow me to take a case where I couldn’t be adequately prepared.”
    He pressed his lips together and then began writing on a pad. Without looking up at me he said, “That’s fine, Victor. We’re not always ready to seize our opportunities, no matter how transient they may be. I understand completely. Janice will show you out.”
    I waited for a moment, waited for him to look up and smile, waited for him to again tell me how good a lawyer I was and all that we could do together, but he didn’t say another word, concentrating instead only on the pad upon which he wrote. After more than a few moments of waiting I rose and headed for his door.
    “Did I mention the retainer,” he said as I turned the doorknob.
    “No, you didn’t.”
    “Fifteen thousand dollars up front if you decide to take the case.”
    “That sheds a new light on the offer,” I said, releasing the knob from my grip.
    “I thought it might.”
    “Mostly, sir, it would be the honor of working with you.”
    “Yes, I see. So I take it you’re on board?”
    I hesitated a moment, but not too long a moment. “Yes, sir.”
    “Terrific,” he said brightly and he smiled his charismatic smile that warmed me. “The trial team is meeting Monday night, here, at six. You can meet your client then. Before the Monday meeting you can look at whatever evidence we have. I’ll set up a room for you, say starting at ten.”
    “Fine.”
    “We have a status hearing before Judge Gimbel on Tuesday morning. I’ll make sure your retainer is ready by then. By the way, Victor, what’s your hourly fee?”
    “One-fifty,” I said.
    “You’re going to make us look like chiselers by comparison. For this case your fee is two-fifty. Is that acceptable?”
    “Perfectly.”
    “It’s great to have you on the team, Victor. This is a terrific opportunity for you, son,” he said, and I knew that it was. Prescott was offering me more than just a highpublicity case in which my picture would make the papers and my name become known. He was offering to mentor me, to guide my career, to raise me to something more than second-rate. There was no telling what I could gain from his wise guidance and touching concern for my welfare.
    “I understand,” I said, “and I am very grateful for the chance.”
    “Yes,” he replied, without a hint of credulity in his face. “I believe that you are. And I have no doubts but that you’ll come through for us.”
    So maybe I had been wrong after all. Maybe this glorious land to which my great-grandfather had brought his family from Russia actually was the land of opportunity he sought and maybe this William Prescott III was the instrument of that opportunity, along with whichever fate had lodged that chunk of roasted duck in fat Pete McCrae’s throat. I still had my doubts, sure, but fifteen grand up front and two-fifty an hour did a lot of easing.

4
    BESIDE A RAGGED DOOR in a hallway atop a Korean grocery on 21st Street, south of Chestnut, hung a series of names spelled out in small chromed letters. There was VIMHOFF & COMPANY, ACCOUNTANTS, and beneath that PARALLEL DESIGN INC., and beneath that JOHN STEVENSON, ARCHITECT, and beneath that, oddly off-center from the rest, DERRINGER AND CARL, ATTORNEYS. The name of our firm was off-center because the first series of letters had been ripped off the