The waiter led Katie through the busy City restaurant to where the private dining rooms were. Although it was a scheduled lunch with the managing partner, Timothy Marks, she still had a glimmer of PTSD from her recent escapades. She half-expected Sara Keating to suddenly pop out of a side door to demand her participation in a wild new plot.
But no ghost arrived at this particular feast, at least not in person.
‘The beef Wellington is very good,’ Tim noted as he perused the menu, ‘really one of The Ned’s best dishes.’
‘I’m trying to be vegetarian, at least where possible,’ Katie replied. ‘I think I’ll go for the scallops.’
Timothy paused and considered the statement. He wanted to hold it in, but could not.
‘But, aren’t scallops a type of mollusc?’
‘True, but I just don’t think they have feelings and I don’t mind eating things without feelings.’ Then on second thoughts she added: ‘Well, maybe they have some, but not really complex ones.’
Tim considered this carefully. His mind suddenly filled with all manner of ways of gauging the feelings of a bivalve. But, how would one set the parameters? How would one articulate the definitions? What indicators would show that one was crossing the threshold into complex feelings? What current UK and EU regulations might apply to the discernment and expression of emotions in scallops, as well as the responsibility of humans who eat them to consider those emotions – if so expressed? And what of the owner of The Ned? Would they share culpability for offending these molluscs? Although – he carefully added to his string of analytical thoughts – if the mollusc is dead, after all it must be as it’s been cooked – then is it murder?
‘What are you having?’ Katie asked as she observed his pensive expression.
‘Oh, the beef Wellington, main reason I come here.’
–
‘I’m glad we’re talking about animals,’ Tim said between meaty forkfuls of beef and juicy pastry. ‘I wanted to talk about cats in particular.’
Katie didn’t know what to say. He saw the confusion and had to grin.
‘No, not that. You know, herding cats?’ he chuckled and was glad to see the waiter stick his head around the door of the private room. ‘Managing lawyers is like herding cats. You’ve heard the phrase, surely? Lawyers like to be independent. Do their own thing. Not like dogs at all – not a pack animal – well, most aren’t like that anyway. Thus, lawyers are like cats – hard to steer as a group. You see?’
She nodded. Katie vaguely remembered hearing it once at a conference, although had not been sure what it meant at the time.
‘Sir?’ the waiter asked.
‘We’ve changed our minds. I’ll have a glass of red, a Merlot, and….?’
‘Oh, no thanks.’
‘Come now, grapes can’t have feelings as well and we have had a very good quarter,’ Tim insisted. ‘Let’s enjoy the lunch.’
She had a house Chardonnay and wondered how they could have had such a good performance at the firm, considering they’d lost so many partners recently.
Sunil and five others in the corporate group had run off three months ago to create a new model AI-native firm, and that had been in the news for days. In fact, their news was so loud it totally drowned out the additional bulletin that Sara had joined a top New York firm for what was apparently an enormous guaranteed package. Meanwhile, old Harry Harmer had very quietly slipped out the back door and had opened a donkey sanctuary in Dorset – apparently it had always been his wife’s dream.
Plus, a few others had left, taking the opportunity of the chaos caused by Sunil and team to call back the various and ever-present head-hunters and accepted the jobs on offer. In total, including equity and non-equity, they were now down 10 partners – plus a sizeable bunch of senior associates who had decided to jump ship too. Combined, that was a lot of potential revenue that had just walked out of the door.
Tim observed her incredulous look. He smiled with the benefit of a veteran’s experience.
‘You overestimate the losses. We are resilient. You see, law firms are quite unique. We are partnerships, yes. Our success is highly dependent on the individuals that form that partnership. Yet, it’s also very flexible. Very…er,’ he struggled for the word, ‘self-healing.’
‘Self-healing?’ she repeated and listened intently.
‘For every Sunil and Sara there’re two more lawyers with a client following who would love to be in their roles. There are salaried partners who want to be in the equity. Senior associates who would kill just to have the word ‘Partner’ on their business card. And so on, all the way down the line to our summer associates who dream of qualifying.
‘In short, there is a pipeline of talent, constantly pushing forwards. And to be frank, sometimes it’s good that some of the older heads move on to allow the new talent through. I mean, you should see some of the young associates these days. Frighteningly smart,’ he concluded with a satisfied grin.
Katie nodded neutrally, still not really buying the whole ‘this is fine’ argument.
‘But, the clients? We’ve lost clients, haven’t we?’ she asked.
Tim chuckled and sipped his Merlot.
‘Yes, we lost a couple. But we gained a couple more recently. And in fact, one of the new ones handed us an absolutely ginormous piece of work. We can barely keep up. Naturally, I can’t give you the numbers, but we’re on track for a very good year.’
Katie listened and mulled over what he had said as she finished off her scallops.
‘But, I remember you told me that we were suffering, that our PEP was falling relative to some of our peers.’
‘Yes, that is true,’ he replied and took another sip of the Merlot.
‘But, that’s OK now?’
‘Yes, it is. Well, partly. Let me explain.’
‘Please,’ Katie replied, wondering how Tim could be so joyful after what – no matter how you spun things – looked to everyone else as a serious blow.
‘We are a very, very good law firm, with a wonderful history. We have prestige. We have excellent clients. And yes, our partners now make a little less than some of our peers. But that will change very soon.’
‘But, I don’t understand. How? Surely just one big deal cannot make that much difference?’
He paused and put down his knife and fork, then grinned again. Katie didn’t like the way he was looking at her all of a sudden with such intensity. There was a glint in his eye that she’d have said was malevolent.
‘It’s like this, we’re going to be doing some cost cutting around here.’
In an instant Katie felt her heart beat increase.
‘You see, it finally dawned on me that we’ve been looking at this whole AI thing the wrong way. We’ve been trying to cut what should be left alone, and have ignored what really needs the chop.’
She didn’t speak.
‘AI is all about efficiency. Yes?’
Katie minimally agreed.
‘But, we’ve been trying to make the high-quality legal advice we give more efficient. That was the wrong way to go about things. What we should have been doing is making everything else that supports that work more efficient. To reduce the costs of the business, you see?’
She was following, but didn’t like where this seemed to be going.
‘Think of us as a designer of haute couture clothes for those who appreciate – and can afford – such things. Those kind of businesses don’t seek to make their, how shall we say, works of art, cheaper, or make them faster.
‘No. They double-down on their excellence. They become more exclusive,’ he continued with growing gusto.
Katie could not stop the feeling that this was going somewhere unpleasant.
‘No. Efficiency in our work is the wrong way to go. Instead, I have decided we are about to embark on the biggest cost-cutting programme this firm has ever seen….for all the support services. Between the automation of back-office tasks and the outsourcing of those jobs that we still cannot automate we can cut our operating costs significantly. Partner profits will rise and we don’t even have to put up our rates.’
He paused and took a breath.
‘And you want me to help with this…?’ Katie asked tentatively.
‘Well, we need someone who understands technology, AI, and all that,’ he noted and rested his hands on the table, as if he were about to get up. ‘But, I think we will need a new broom for this particular job. Someone from outside who can do what needs to be done.’
Katie’s heart now heaved to bursting point and she felt a patina of cold sweat break out over her forehead. She could feel it coming. That knowledge did not make the impact any less shocking or less painful.
‘Now, we did indeed think about having you lead this project. After all, you know the firm inside out. And….’ he paused for a moment while he reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled something out. ‘You’ve shown yourself able to engage with matters that some might say were of a strategic importance far beyond what your job description ever encompassed or called for. That you will get involved in things that maybe you should have left alone.’
Tim now gently placed the broken remnants of the burner phone in the middle of the table.
‘One of the cleaners found it some months ago. As you might guess, they’re under orders to report any stray electronic items they find. You know, security and all that,’ he explained, his grin wider and toothy now. ‘And it’s amazing what some of the tech people can do. We used this little outfit down the river in Kew. They’d been, er…in the business…shall we say. Got it working again. Read the texts. Followed the numbers. All that.’
‘I’m so sorry…I….’ Katie began.
‘At first I didn’t quite know how to respond. Hence the delay. Bit of a shock. Made me feel like quite the fool, putting so much trust in you. But…’
‘Tim, I…’
‘You see, the thing with traitors is that they have no honour. Now, take Sara. Apparently she has a rather negative opinion of you these days – said you’d betrayed her – ironic of course, coming from her.’
She gulped and felt the room wobble ever so slightly.
‘And poor Harry. I felt pity for him. Gushed he did, when I confronted him. One might have thought they’d stand by the side of a co-conspirator, but no. They threw you under the old bus. Bang!’
He slapped the table hard for effect, making the cutlery jump off the plates with a clatter.
‘Tim, it was nothing personal, they just had this plan, this idea of how to make things better…I didn’t want to be part of it. But…’
Tim now raised his hand, palm up. She stopped.
‘You’re fired, Catherine Downer. And before you say anything, be grateful that I am going to allow you to ‘resign’, as it were. The paperwork is in an email that you will find when you return to the office. Something about spending more time with your family. There won’t be any severance, as I am sure you will understand. You’re to leave the office this afternoon and are not to return. You will be given a perfunctory reference. But, please don’t ask for more than that. You won’t get it.’
‘But, Tim…’
‘Any further communication with anyone in this firm is to be via the HR department. Thank you for your service.’
He now slowly got to his feet and left her in the small, dark wooden private dining room. There was a quick knock on the door and for a moment Katie thought he’d come back after changing his mind. But, it was the waiter.
‘Excuse me, the gentleman said you’d pay the bill.’
—
Previous Chapters of ‘The Innovators’
- Part 7 – ‘Halfway Home‘
- Part 6 – ‘Memories’
- Part 5 – ‘The Conference’
- Part 4 – ‘Civil War’
- Part 3 – ‘Press Conference’
- Part 2 – ‘Project Rubicon’
- Part 1 – Introduction
[ Copyright © 2026, Richard Tromans, Published by Artificial Lawyer Limited in the U.K. All rights reserved. This work of fiction may not be republished or reproduced without permission. The moral right of the author has been asserted. All characters are fictitious and any resemblance to any persons living, dead, or virtual, is purely coincidental. ]
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