The next morning, while sitting at my desk drafting grounds of appeal for Goran Milic, I heard someone cough with an Afrikaans accent. I looked up. Derek Hoogland stood just inside the doorway, rolling on the balls of his feet as if the floor was too hot. He had only entered my room once before, to complain that I borrowed a law report and did not return it. In fact, I did not borrow that book from him, or any other books, and that was still the case. What the hell did he want?
He said: "Um, hello, got a moment?"
I contained my surprise. "Of course."
He strode up to my desk and assaulted me with a friendly smile. "Look, umm, we haven't had much to do with each other, because we work in different fields. But I've heard good things about you. I'm here because Stark & Mellors have briefed me to appear for the managing director of a construction company who is charged with taking kickbacks from contractors. He's pleaded not guilty. The trial will start sometime next year and probably run for about three months. I don't usually appear in criminal trials, of course, so I'll need a junior with plenty of criminal law experience to hold my hand. Are you interested in the job?"
Interested? Was he kidding? Smoke & Mirrors was one of the biggest law firms in the city, with a long list of uber-wealthy clients and offices that floated among the clouds. If I attached my caboose to this gravy train, I could charge my top hourly rate for at least six months of work and be sure of payment. It would take me three or four years to earn an equivalent sum from Legal Aid and the small-time private solicitors who briefed me. Yet, despite that, the partner at Smoke & Mirrors handling the matter would be aghast at the modest size of my bills. He would race home and tell his wife he had hired a madman.
True, I would have to endure Hoogland as my leader and overlook the fact he was obviously a groper. However, I often worked with silk I didn't like or even respect. And maybe, as the money flowed in, I would find, buried deep within his personality, some hidden qualities.
I said: "I'm very interested in the job."
"Good, I'll recommend you to my instructing solicitor. That will do the trick."
"Thanks."
While turning to leave, he pretended to have an afterthought. "Oh, just before I go: do you have any questions about the Floor renovations?"
Did he offer me the junior brief to ensure that I voted in favour of the renovations? Probably not. Even he wasn't that diabolical. However, one thing was certain: if I opposed the plans, I could kiss the brief goodbye. He was definitely small-minded enough to whisk it away.
Until now, I had intended to vote against them: they would cost me a lot of money without improving my practice one iota. They were also rather tasteless. However, the amount I would earn from the junior brief would dwarf their cost and easily assuage the assault on my aesthetic sensibilities.
So I did a somersault. "The renovations? Oh, I don't have a problem with them."
"Excellent."
"Are you going to make any changes to the plans before the next Floor meeting?"
A steely look. "No, I don't think that will be necessary."
I half-admired the way he took no prisoners, even in a war not worth winning. "When's the next meeting?"
"Probably in a couple of weeks' time."
"Well, put me in the 'yes' column."
"Good. I'll speak to you later."
He left and I pondered our conversation. It was profoundly ironic that I won an unwinnable murder trial which would do little to advance my career. But I just got a huge break because someone I didn't like offered me a junior brief.
While standing at the window, studying the pedestrians below, I planned how to spend the huge windfall coming my way. I visualised overseas trips, a new car, maybe even a deposit on a nice house; I would certainly pay off most of the loan I took out to buy my room. Excitement made me use an imaginary bat to stroke a classic on-drive that sent a cricket ball sizzling across the turf of the Sydney Cricket Ground to rattle the fence. If I kept playing shots like that, I would soon be in the Test team!
Unfortunately, Wayne Newhouse intruded into my mind. How would I explain to him that I was going to support the renovation plans of his arch-enemy? Wayne would be upset. He might even get melodramatic and accuse me of betrayal. That would be unfair because I never enlisted as a soldier in his war with Hoogland. I was operating a business and had bills to pay. I tried to think of a good way to break the news to him, without success.