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thought. This is it.… He reached into his jacket and handed Perelli a piece of paper.
    Perelli read then looked up questioningly. “A hit list?”
    Clayton tapped the paper dramatically. “Yep. That’s who I want out within a year after the merger.”
    “There are—what?—twenty-five names here?” Perelli read. “Burdick, Bill Stanley, Woody Crenshaw, Lamar Fredericks, Ralph Dudley … Wendall, these men
are
Hubbard, White & Willis. They’ve been there for decades.”
    “They’re deadwood, has-beens. This is the last piece of the deal, John. For the merger to work they have to go.”
    Perelli chewed some of his toast and washed it down withcoffee. “You said you wanted to accelerate the merger.” He waved at the paper. “But if you’re asking us to agree to
this
it’ll only slow things up. I’ve got to run these names by the management committee. We’ll have to review each one of their partnership contracts. Christ, they’re all over forty-five. You know the kind of trouble they could make in court for us?”
    Clayton laughed with genuine amusement. “John, with my connections you really think the EEOC would be a problem?”
    “All right, maybe not. But these’re still dangerous men.”
    “And they’re the ones who’re bleeding the firm dry. They have to go. If we want to the firm to succeed they have to go.” He pushed aside his empty plate. “A week, John. I want the merger papers signed in a week.”
    “Impossible.”
    “Considering that you might have to move slightly more quickly,” Clayton said, “we would be willing to alter our partnership share price.”
    “You—”
    “If we ink the deal next week, Hubbard, White and Willis is willing to reduce our first-year share take by eight percent.”
    “Are you out of your fucking mind? You’re talking millions of dollars, Wendall.”
    “Thirteen
million dollars.”
    This meant that the Hubbard, White and Willis partners would in effect give the incoming partners a huge bonus simply for expediting the deal—and for ousting Burdick and his cronies.
    Clayton continued, “We’ll claim it has to be done by year end for tax reasons. That’ll be our excuse.”
    “Just tell me: If I insisted that Burdick stay for, say, five years, would you still be willing to proceed?”
    Clayton signed his name to the check. He offered no credit card.
    “Let me tell you something, John. Twenty years ago Donald Burdick was asked by the President to head a special committee looking into abuses in the steel industry.”
    “The Justice Department was involved. I heard about that.”
    “Burdick was picked because he was known in both Albany and Washington. The executive committee at Hubbard, White—it was called a steering committee then—was ecstatic. Publicity for the firm, a chance for Burdick to do some serious stroking on the Hill. Afterward, a triumphant return. Well, Donald Burdick told the committee he’d accept the appointment on one condition. That when he returned he and a man of his choosing would be placed on the executive committee and three particular partners would be asked to leave the firm. Now, John, that was at a time when law firms did not fire partners. It simply was not done.”
    “And?”
    “Three months later, a memo went around the office congratulating three partners who were unexpectedly leaving Hubbard, White and starting their own firm.” Clayton pushed back from the table. “The answer to your question is this: The only way the deal works is without Burdick … and everyone else on that list. That’s the quid pro quo. What do you say?”
    “You really fucking want this, don’t you?”
    “Deal?” Clayton asked, sticking out his hand.
    Perelli hesitated for a moment before pronouncing, “Deal,” and shaking Clayton’s hand but the delay was merely because he had to swallow the piece of bacon he’d snuck off Clayton’s plate and wipe his fingers.

     
    Who are these men and women?
    What do I know about them