The Judge put his head back and roared with laughter. “Well put. I miss you, young man. I do hope that we can reach an agreement today. I’m so glad you chose to come.”

If the alternative had been one of the federal holding pens, Ted could have been easily persuaded to come uptown for lunch. The matter of choice, however, had never been part of the discussion.

“Who’s the client?” Ted asked.

The Judge made a show of taking a pocket watch from his vest and checking the time. “He seems to be running late.” Tucking it away again, he smiled at Ted. “Which gives us some time to go over a few items. Still, or would you prefer sparkling?”

Oliver was standing across the room, ostensibly out of earshot, but at these words he scuttled to the table and made a bow, deep enough to denote the presence of aristocracy but not quite royalty. He held a clear pitcher of water with lemon and lime slices.

“Still,” Ted said. It was the Judge’s script they were playing to, and these polite little concessions were there to put Ted at ease. They wouldn’t work. He was on guard, expecting a thrust to his heart or a slash at his throat.

Oliver poured and retreated.

“The biggest challenge this firm faces is talent,” the Judge said. “We are in constant competition for the best and brightest from the top schools, and yet so many of them fail to survive the first five years. They lack fire. You had that fire, Teddy. It was what I saw in you the first time we met.”

Smoke. The Judge was using smoke. The thrust would come next.

“Aside from the extremely rare late bloomer, it is impossible to hire an experienced lawyer of any quality. Plodders, yes. But a star? No. And then there is you.” He abruptly switched persona, throwing off the unctuous sincerity, making eye contact for the first time, and adopting the pose of a serious negotiator.. “Tell me—what would entice you to return to the firm?” the Judge finished, aiming directly for the heart.

The performance deserved applause, but Ted took his time responding. “I’d like to know what I’m selling before we start negotiating price.”

“Humor me.”

Fine. But he wasn’t going to make it easy. “Why would the firm want me? I don’t bring valuable clients or niche expertise. I don’t even have a current license to practice.”

“You are both resourceful and impulsive. Jesuitical in your moral reasoning. Intuitive and brilliant. At times a bit of a rogue. Piratical. These are the qualities I look for in any prospect.”

The script was an old one. Ted had heard it fifteen years earlier. It no longer had the power to move him. “And don’t those top schools produce such prospects every May?”