[Klein Legal, Flatiron — February 19, 2013, 10:22 AM]
She was already in my office when I arrived.
Harold had given her the chair across from my desk, which was Harold's tell — he offered the chair across from the desk to people he thought should be there, and the chair by the door to people who were waiting. Nora Adler had the chair across from the desk. She had a notepad on her knee and had been writing something in the forty seconds between Harold showing her in and my arrival. She capped the pen when I walked through the door without urgency, the way someone caps a pen when they have reached a natural stopping point and the interruption is therefore welcome.
"Don Klein," she said, standing.
"Nora Adler."
She had the handshake of a person who had done many professional handshakes and had optimized them for precision over warmth: firm, brief, complete. Her expression was neutral in the specific way that read as naturally neutral rather than performed — this was her ambient register, not a professional front she had assembled for the meeting.
I had run a basic Library search on her at 0.2 LP that morning, burning the last of the Kellner reserve before it had fully replenished: Nora Adler, CPA, formerly Hartwick & Lund LLP (Big Four adjacent). Forensic accounting division. Departed 2012. Reason: disputed. The Library had not been able to find the reason because the reason had not been documented in any way that produced a public record. This was itself information.
"Harold told me you've been here twenty minutes already," I said.
"Twenty-two." She sat. "He's a precise person. I asked him to describe one of his cases while I waited. He described the Kellner jurisdictional argument."
"What did you think."
"Good instinct on the tributary classification. The argument would have been stronger if he'd led with the administrative precedent rather than the statutory construction." She tilted her head. "He mentioned that's what the other side did. He pivoted correctly."
Harold appeared in the doorway.
He had the expression of a man who has brought something excellent home and is watching the introduction and is trying to keep the expression on his face from communicating his opinion too transparently. He was failing, slightly.
"I'll be at my desk," he said.
He went back to his desk.
I looked at Nora.
"Your letter mentioned you left Hartwick & Lund," I said. "The letter didn't explain why."
"It wouldn't." She uncapped the pen and then recapped it, which was not a nervous gesture — it was the mechanical equivalent of a short pause. "I flagged an accounting irregularity in a client file. The irregularity was there. The firm determined it would be better for their client relationship if it wasn't there. I disagreed with that determination." She looked at me. "I am entirely unrepentant about this position."
"What happened."
"They described it as a cultural fit issue and I was managed out with a settlement that included a confidentiality provision." She paused. "I respected the confidentiality provision. I am describing the structure of events, not the specific client or the specific irregularity."
"Understood."
"Three other firms interviewed me after Hartwick & Lund. Two concluded that someone who would flag an inconvenient irregularity was a liability. One offered me a position in a division that handled internal compliance review only — no external client work." She looked at the notepad. "I declined."
"Why Klein Legal."
"You turned down the Veridion defense." She said it flatly, without particular weight, as if she were noting a public filing. "The pharmaceutical mass-tort. Veridion engaged counsel that will run a suppression strategy. You declined." A pause. "I know people who follow pharmaceutical litigation. The Veridion plaintiffs' motion cited a very specific discovery request regarding Phase 2 biocompatibility studies. That request appeared two business days after Klein Legal declined the engagement."
I looked at her.
Detection: not a lie, not a threat, not a leverage move. She had drawn an inference and was stating it as a hypothesis to see what Don did with it. The hypothesis was accurate and she knew it was accurate, and she was saying it to communicate that she had arrived at it through the same reasoning Don had used to make the decision. She was demonstrating that her instincts were calibrated the same way.
"You mentioned in your letter that you're interested in the regulatory and forensic work the CFIUS specialty generates," I said.
"Yes."
"Our CFIUS practice involves document production analysis, financial record review, and in one recent matter, absorption—" I stopped.
"Absorption?" She looked at me.
"— of information from multiple sources simultaneously." I had been going to say 'absorption of complexity.' The word had been the wrong word and I had corrected mid-sentence. "The work is document-intensive and often involves identifying gaps in produced record sets."
"That is the work I am good at." She said it without any particular modesty adjustment. "Identifying what is there and what is not there, and understanding the difference between an absence that is incidental and an absence that is deliberate."
The Library had nothing useful to add. The search I had run on her background was too thin to be determinative. What I had in front of me was a person who had correctly inferred an event I had taken some care to make uninferrable, who had described the inference not as an accusation but as a proof of professional reasoning, and who was now sitting in my office with the patience of someone who had done the analysis and was waiting to see if the analysis was correct.
It was correct.
"Harold will have the employment terms on your desk by Thursday," I said.
She nodded once. The nod had the quality of a person who had expected this answer and had allocated the exact right amount of reaction space for it. She stood, extended her hand, and the second handshake was identical to the first.
"I'll let myself out," she said.
She left.
Harold appeared in the doorway again approximately thirty seconds later.
"Well?" he said.
"Thursday," I said.
The expression on his face remained technically neutral. He was, however, humming something very quietly as he walked back to his office.
It was a small thing. I noted it anyway.
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