The Devil's Advocate by Andrew Neiderman

built up John Milton so much in his mind, he had no idea what to expect.
    The same carpet that covered the lobby area and flowed down the corridor spilled through the doorway of John Milton's office and covered his floor. At the center rear of the room was a dark mahogany desk and high-backed dark brown leather chair. There were two chairs set in front of the desk. Behind the desk were three large windows, nearly the height and width of the wall, providing an open, wide vista of the city and sky, an almost Godlike view.
    At first Kevin was so taken with the radiance and brightness of the room that he did not see John Milton sitting in his chair. When Kevin stepped farther in and did see him, it was as if he had materialized out of the shadows.
    "Welcome to John Milton and Associates, Kevin," he said. Kevin immediately heard a warmth in the man's mellow voice; it reminded him of the same open, friendly, and soothing tone Reverend Pendleton of the Blithedale Episcopalian Church had, a tone that put you quickly at ease. Kevin often tried to imitate it in court, secretly calling it his "Sunday voice."
    John Milton looked like he was in his early sixties, with a curious combination of youthful and elderly traits. He had a full head of thick hair neatly trimmed and brushed, but it was all gray. As Paul closed the door behind them, Mr. Milton rose, his torso unfolding to a six-feet-two-inch frame and his smile bursting out of what at first looked to be a face locked in alabaster. He wore a dark gray silk suit with a ruby tie and ruby pocket handkerchief.
    Kevin noted how his shoulders rose when he offered him his hand. He was in wonderful physical shape, which added to the strange but interesting mixture of youth and age. Moving closer, Kevin could see the crimson blush in his cheeks. He seized Kevin's hand firmly, as though he had waited ages to meet him.
    "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Milton."
    John Milton's eyes seemed to metamorphose while he and Kevin gazed at each other, changing from a dull, quiet brown to a shimmering rust. He had a straight, full nose with soft lines that at times made his face appear ageless. Even the lines around his eyes looked like someone had penciled them in only moments ago. His thin lips had an orange tone, and his jawbone was sharp, the skin tight, yet he had a fatherly look, a face full of wisdom.
    "Paul has shown you what would be your office, I hope."
    "Oh yes. It's fantastic. Love it."
    "I'm glad, Kevin. Please, have a seat." He gestured toward the high-backed tan leather chair with smooth, dark mahogany arms. Hand-carved in them were figures from Greek mythology: satyrs, minotaurs. "Thank you, Paul," he added. Kevin looked back to see Paul Scholefield leaving.
    John Milton returned to his own chair. Kevin noticed he had a firmness about him, something regal in the way he held his head and shoulders. He sat down like a monarch assuming his throne.
    "As you know, we've been considering you for some time, Kevin. We would like you to start next week. Short notice, I know, but I already have a case earmarked for you," he added, tapping a thick folder to his right on the desk.
    "Really?" He wanted to ask how he knew Kevin would accept a position here, but he thought that might seem impolite. "What's it about?"
    "I'll give it to you in due time," John Milton said firmly. Kevin saw how easily Mr.
    Milton moved from warm and friendly tones to determined and resolute ones. "First, let me explain my philosophy when it comes to my associates, who, as you will learn, are more than mere associates. In most ways they are my partners, but even more than that, they are my family. We are a true team here, devoted to each other in many more ways than our mere professional relationships. We care for each other and each other's family. No one works in a vacuum; home, life, all problems have an effect on your work. Understand?"
    "Yes, I do," Kevin said and couldn't help wondering about the man he was replacing.
    Was Mr.