The Interior by Lisa See Read Free Book Online Page B

say?”
    David ignored Keith’s kidding. “One of her friends had a daughter who worked at a Knight factory in China,” David continued. “I didn’t know they had factories over there.”
    “They have one. Old man Knight thinks of himself as cutting-edge when it comes to manufacturing. What could be more cutting-edge than China?” When David didn’t respond, Keith went on, “I’ve been over there, you know, doing the due diligence work and working with Knight’s American accountants to get all the financials in order for review by the Securities and Exchange Commission. I’ve seen a lot of stuff.”
    “Like?”
    Keith considered, then said, “Nothing exciting. It’s a factory out in the boonies, and I can tell you that those accountants Knight flew in suffered from major culture shock from the food and the strangeness of the place. Those guys came and went as fast as they could.” Almost as an afterthought he added, “Although I don’t know why. Knight only employs women—some pretty ones too.” He wiped his forehead again.
    David stared at Keith, trying to make sense of the strange fluctuations in the other man’s behavior. Finally David asked, “What’s going on?”
    “What do you mean?” There again was that testy tone, a response that was far removed from what David expected from his friend and colleague of many years.
    “You seem to be under a lot more pressure than I’ve ever seen you. What’s happening?”
    Keith’s eyes seemed to get watery, but he covered this by lifting the snifter and taking another sip of brandy.
    “I can’t help you if you don’t confide in me,” David persisted.
    Keith put the snifter down. “I’m in a bind,” he said, keeping his eyes focused on the inside lip of the glass. “I’m in trouble and I don’t know what to do.”
    “What is it? Can I help?”
    “It’s personal.”
    “Keith, we’ve known each other a long time—”
    “And it’s professional,” he said, raising his eyes to meet David’s.
    For the second time this evening, the honorable, yet sometimes horrible, code of ethics to which honest lawyers adhered had come into the conversation. They could skirt around the code: David could ask general questions about a client (Tartan) or about what that client was involved in (the acquisition of Knight), and Keith might even answer them, although he certainly hadn’t tonight. But to exchange real information about a particular case, a particular client, a particular act involving jurisprudence? To actually divulge that a lawyer had been involved in something shady or sinister or straight-on illegal was another matter entirely. They both knew it was taboo.
    David took a deep breath. “Is there something I can do?” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you need to talk to someone at the Justice Department or the FBI? You know I can arrange it.”
    But Keith just shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. All I know is that I want to set things right.”
    The conversation had run aground. Keith was up against the wall, but still at a point that he couldn’t or wouldn’t talk about it. Keith smiled wanly, then looked away. “Man, I’m beat. Let’s get the hell out of here.” He flagged down the waitress, got the check, and paid it, saying, “Don’t worry about it. I can expense it out.” When he stood, his body swayed slightly. Then he made an unsteady line for the door.
    They emerged into the cool night air. Tomorrow would be the Fourth of July. In Los Angeles that could just as easily mean dense fog or a heat wave. This year it looked to be foggy. Standing in the cool white dampness, David and Keith chatted a few more minutes. He wondered if Keith, who’d consumed far more alcohol than David, should drive.
    “I left my car with the valet,” David said. “You want a lift?”
    Keith shook his head. “I’ll just walk back to the office. I have a couple of faxes I need to send.”
    The offices of Phillips, MacKenzie were in