Final Venture Page 3

  'Craig wasn't too happy, huh?' He looked up from his paper. 'Did he try to kill you?'

  'Nearly,' I said.

  'Did you use that army self-defence shit on him?'

  'No, Daniel. I just stood there and tried to be calm. I think I succeeded.'

  'So, what are you going to do?' asked John.

  I slumped into my chair. 'I don't know.'

  'Tea?' John asked.

  I nodded. 'Thanks.'

  He was back a couple of minutes later with a cup of tea for me and some complicated latte-type coffee for himself.

  'What about me?' squawked Daniel.

  John struck his forehead. 'Darn it,' he said. 'I've forgotten again.'

  'Huh!'

  John looked over Daniel's shoulder at the stock quotes on his machine.

  'Forty-three and a quarter, eh?'

  We all knew what he was looking at. It was the same little number everyone at Revere looked at every day. The BioOne stock price.

  'Edging up,' said Daniel.

  John picked up a stack of papers from his desk, and dumped it on Daniel's. 'Enjoy.'

  It was the 'cold deals' pile. These were the deals that arrived in the mail from the wide world of wacky inventors and crazy dreamers. There was a virtual pile, just as high, in our computer system, that had been received electronically.

  Daniel groaned. 'OK. But I'm not going to read them. I find my rejection letter is so much more polite if I don't.'

  'You have to read them. It's your turn this week. Gil insists.'

  'All right.' Daniel grabbed the pile of letters and business plans, and began to go through it. 'They're all losers anyway.'

  'You don't know that,' said John.

  'Oh, come on. This is all crap.' Daniel tapped a business plan in front of him. 'Look, this is from a guy who wants to sell UFO scanners over the Internet.'

  'I got that wind-power generation deal from the cold pile,' John said.

  Daniel rolled his eyes. 'Precisely.' He had a point. Although John had been very excited about the wind-power deal, Gil had dismissed it out of hand.

  'At least I've got an open mind,' John said.

  'Wide open,' muttered Daniel.

  I tried to concentrate on work, but it was impossible. I was being attacked from all sides. Firstly by Frank and the other partners, then by Craig. Craig I could forgive. Frank I couldn't.

  Frank and I had immediately liked each other when he had interviewed me for a job at Revere. Once I had joined the firm, we had worked well together, and he had watched my developing relationship with his daughter with approval. It was only in the last six months, since the wedding, that his attitude to me had cooled.

  He was besotted with Lisa, and had missed her badly when she had moved to California with her mother when she was fourteen. When she returned to Boston to work for a small biotechnology company they saw a lot of each other. At first I fitted into this arrangement very well, but somehow, once Lisa and I were married, things changed. Invitations to spend the weekend with him at his house by the shore had previously been haphazard and informal, but now they became more insistent. When I came too, I no longer felt welcome, and I was sure that Frank engineered times for him and Lisa to meet up when he knew I couldn't be there.

  In a way, I understood his feelings. Belatedly, he had realized that once Lisa married me, he would cease to be the most important man in her life. This bothered him. And he bothered me. Lisa and I both worked hard, and I wanted to spend what little free time we had alone with her.

  Frank's suspicions of Diane hadn't helped. To his fear of losing his daughter, and his jealousy of the time I spent with her, was now added concern that she might be mistreated by a philandering husband.

  I might understand all this. But I didn't like it. Especially when it messed up my work. I needed to talk to him.

  He was in his office. All the partners had their own, expensively kitted out with the mixture of high-technology and old furniture that Gil believed gave the impression of a leading venture-capital firm with money: sleek computers, old prints, discreet VCRs, leather chairs, conference phones, dark wood tables.

  He was on the phone, and he waved me to a chair in front of his desk.

  I waited. He continued talking, avoiding my eye. He moved his arms for emphasis as he spoke. The shrugs, the hand movements, the expressions were the only signs of his Jewish ancestry, and the only resemblance to Lisa I recognized in him. He looked the archetypal White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, while she took after her mother, with her dark hair and eyes and her sharp features. His father, a prosperous Boston doctor, had been born Koch and changed his name to Cook in a mostly successful effort to blend into the community around him.

  At work, we had always treated each other as colleagues, or at any rate partner and associate.

  Until now.

  He eventually finished his phone call, and turned to me.

  'I'd like to talk about this morning,' I began.

  'There's nothing to say. We said it all at the meeting.'

  'I don't think so. There's more to it than that.'

  'You were wrong. You made a mistake. You'll learn.'

  'I know you saw me having dinner with Diane.'

  He leaned forward. 'Simon, understand this. Your marriage to my daughter has no bearing on how I treat you at work, and I resent the implication that it does.'

  'What else am I supposed to think? We did that deal together. Nothing's changed, Craig's doing brilliantly, all the milestones we set have been met.'

  'I disagree, Simon. As I said this morning, I think plenty has changed. And I'm beginning to have my doubts about Craig. All I was doing was preventing the firm from making a bad investment. It was a judgement call. I made the right one, you made the wrong one. Now, I don't want to have any more of this conversation.'

  'Oh, come on,' I said. 'You might have disagreed with me, but there was no need to humiliate me – '

  'I said, I don't want to have this conversation.' He looked down to the papers on his desk.

  I knew there was more I should say, more that had to be said. But Frank didn't want to hear it.

  'You may not want to talk about it now, but this is something we'll have to sort out some time,' I said as I left the room.

  I swore under my breath as I made my way back to my desk. Diane passed me in the corridor.

  'Cheer up,' she said.

  'Why? I've just screwed everything up here.'

  'No, you haven't. Here, come into my office.'

  I followed her through a door a couple of paces further down the corridor. She closed it behind me. Her office was smaller than Frank's, and tidier. Cool, crisp and modern.

  I slumped heavily into an armchair and put my face in my hands. She sat on the sofa opposite me, relaxed, an encouraging half-smile on her lips. Through my fingers I could glimpse her long legs, resting against the side of the sofa. Lisa was right. She was undeniably attractive.

  'Everyone has a really bad day sometime in every firm,' she said. 'You have to live with it. It's like a rite of passage. You've had your good deal with PC Homelease. Now you've got your bad one. They'll all be watching how you handle it, you know. If you bounce back, they'll think the better of you.'

  'We'll see,' I said. 'Thank you for your support in there, by the way.'

  'I thought you made the right call. So I had to say so.' She smiled quickly. 'Now,' she got up and took a sheaf of papers from her desk. 'Take a look at this for me. It's a company called Tetracom. They have a new idea for microwave filters for cellular telephone networks. The technology looks very interesting to me. I've scheduled a trip to see them in Cincinnati next Thursday and Friday. Can you make it?'

  I was just about to say 'yes, of course', when I hesitated. An overnight trip with Diane, however innocuous, would be bad timing.

  'Um, I don't think I'll be able to,' I said. 'This Net Cop business is going to take some sorting out.'

  'Oh, come on. It's only a day and a half. And I'd li
ke you to work on it. I think we make a good team.'

  When a partner specifically wanted you to work on something it was just stupid to refuse.

  'Do you have a problem with travelling with me?' Diane looked at me sharply.

  She was standing there, soberly dressed, next to her large desk, a partner of the firm I worked for. Telecoms was her area of expertise, and it was a field I was trying to specialize in myself. How could I have a problem travelling with her?

  'No, of course not. I'll do my best.'

  'Good. I'll have a word with Gil if Net Cop is a problem. This is an important deal you know.'

  I smiled and left.

  'I saw you slinking into Diane's office,' Daniel said as I returned to my desk. 'You two sure are spending some quality time together.'

  'She's just trying to find out how well hung you are, Daniel,' I said. 'But don't worry, I won't tell her. I promise.'

  'Tell her that's something she's welcome to figure out for herself,' said Daniel, smiling at the rows of numbers on his computer screen. 'Any time.'

  4

  I left the office at six, early for me, and walked home. My route took me up from the Financial District over the Common to Beacon Hill. It was a warm evening for early October, and there were plenty of people walking about in shirt sleeves or T-shirts. But there had already been a couple of cold nights, and the first of the leaves were beginning to turn.

  I walked slowly, trying to relax, letting the low sunlight caress my face. There was no doubt that fall was the best time of year in Boston. And winter was the worst. In a couple of months I would be battling through the bitter cold to make my way home.

  Beacon Hill was quiet, as usual. I stepped past a woman cajoling four dogs back from the Common to their various mistresses, and smiled politely at a man who gestured at the 'goddamned son of a bitch' who had taken two parking spaces with one car. Parking and dog shit were the two big issues on Beacon Hill. I was for one and against the other, but in this neighbourhood it was prudent to keep such opinions to yourself.

  Half way up the hill to my right was where Gil lived, a sedate town house on Louisburg Square, supposedly the most expensive piece of residential real estate in New England. But our apartment was on the 'flat' of the hill, at the bottom, down a pretty little street of dappled sunlight, green leaves and black railings.

  I had just broken out a bottle of Sam Adams from the refrigerator when Lisa came in.

  'You're early,' I said.

  'So are you,' she replied, and gave me a kiss. 'It's kinda nice, isn't it?' She hugged me. 'What's wrong? Bad day?'

  'Horrible day.'

  'Oh no. What happened?'

  I got her a beer and we sat down together on the sofa. She tucked herself under my arm and listened as I told her about the meeting, about the way Frank had humiliated me and the stand I had taken at the end. Then I told her about Craig's reaction. I had been dying to talk to Lisa about it all day.

  She exploded. 'I can't believe Dad did that! Let me call him right now.'

  'No, don't do that.'

  'Simon! He shouldn't jerk you around at work. That's way out of line.' She untangled herself from me and moved towards the telephone.

  'No, stop Lisa!' I said. 'That'll only make it worse.'

  She picked up the phone. I put my finger on the cradle.

  She glanced at me, and seemed to calm down.

  I pulled her to me and kissed her. 'It's sweet of you to be so concerned,' I said. And it was. For Lisa to come down on my side so unambiguously was exactly what I wanted. 'So far, I've managed to keep my relationship with him at work purely professional. I'd like to try to stick to that.'

  'OK,' she said reluctantly. 'I bet he's upset about seeing you with Diane last week. But he's overreacting. No way should he have done that to you.'

  'No, he shouldn't have.' I picked up my beer, and took a swig. 'Gil wants to see me tomorrow.'

  'What are you going to say?'

  'I don't know. Maybe I should resign. I promised Craig the money. I mean we promised it to him, Frank and I. And now Gil expects me to pull the plug on Net Cop. I'm not sure I can live with that.'

  'Can't Craig get money from somewhere else?'

  I shook my head. 'No other venture firm would touch him if Revere pulled out now.'

  'What about his customers? In the biotech world small companies are always doing deals with the big pharma companies who market their drugs.'

  I paused for a moment to consider the suggestion. 'We could give it a go. It'd be difficult. But it's worth a try.'

  Lisa took a gulp of her beer.

  'What do you think?' I asked her.

  She was silent. I waited.

  'Do you really want to quit?' she said eventually.

  'No. But I think maybe I should.'

  'But do you want to? Give up, I mean.'

  'No, of course I don't want to give up,' I said. 'But sometimes you can be forced into a position where the only right thing to do is resign. I'm afraid that's what's happened to me.'

  'I guess you can give up if you want to. And it sounds like you've got a real problem. You can either run away from it, or you can try to solve it. Your choice.'

  I listened to what she was saying. 'You talk about "giving up". I was thinking that resigning was the honourable thing to do. The courageous thing to do.'

  'Quitting is quitting,' said Lisa. 'Look, I'm not suggesting that you forget your promise to Craig. Sure, you've let him down. It wasn't your fault, but you've got him in a horrible mess. So you've got to get him out again.'

  'Net Cop is history.'

  'Not yet, it isn't,' Lisa replied. 'I've never seen such a determined guy as Craig. He's smart. So are you. You'll figure something out.'

  Her confidence in me was touching. But misplaced.

  'I'll think about it.'

  The phone rang. I picked it up. I heard the clear English tones of my sister.

  'Helen! What time is it? It's the middle of the night in London, isn't it?'

  'I couldn't sleep. And I thought this would be a good time to get you at home.' She sounded tired. Tired and worried.

  'What's up?' I said. It had to be bad news. Bad news always happened to Helen.

  'I spoke to the lawyers today. They think we can appeal. I don't know what to do about it.'

  'But we lost the case. What makes them think we'll win an appeal? More fees?'

  'They've found two more expert witnesses who will say that the doctor was definitely negligent. They're good. Well respected. Lots of letters after their names.'

  'They'll need to be paid, of course.'

  'Of course. And so will the lawyers. Especially the barrister. That's the killer.'

  It was. Helen had already spent all her meagre savings on the case. And I had spent all mine. And Lisa's. And I'd added all I could to my business school loan. Sixty-five thousand pounds had been swallowed up by the lawsuit. And after all that, Matthew still had cerebral palsy, and Helen had still been forced to give up her career in a television production company. She had taken on a job as a part time secretary so that she could spend most of her time looking after him.

  'Have you spoken to Piers?'

  Piers was Matthew's father, an unsuccessful TV scriptwriter who had disappeared from Helen's life just before the boy had been born.

  'There's no point. He has no interest, and he has no money, and he's no bloody use at all.'

  'What about Mother?'

  'Come on! I haven't spoken to her for six months!'

  Our mother, Lady Ayot, hadn't approved of her daughter having a baby out of wedlock. Besides which, she had no money either.

  'What do you want to do?' I asked.

  Helen sighed. 'If we win, we could get a large settlement. Enough for me to look after Matthew. And we'd get costs, so I could pay you back.'

  'That doesn't matter,' I said.

  'It does to me,' said Helen.

  What mattered was how Helen was going to look after her son w
ithout a full-time job, a husband, or any money. That was what mattered. I was very fond of my younger sister. She had come through a cold upbringing very well. She deserved more than this.

  'And if we lose?'

  'I've lost everything anyway, so I don't care,' Helen said. 'But it's you I'm worried about. I was going to leave you out of it. Tell them that we couldn't afford to go to appeal. But . . . But, it's our only hope. And . . . well, I thought you wouldn't want me to make up your mind for you.'

  'You're right,' I said. 'I'm glad you called.' I sighed. 'But I haven't got anything left, Helen. I've borrowed all I can.'

  'I know,' said Helen simply.

  Silence.

  'How much?' I asked eventually.

  'Fifty thousand pounds. Maybe less. But we should expect fifty thousand.'

  We sat in silence, thousands of miles apart. We had to try. Somehow, we had to try.

  'We don't have to decide right now, do we?' I said.

  'No. We've got time.'

  'Leave it with me,' I said. 'I'll think of something.'

  'Thank you,' she said, a glimmer of hope in her voice.

  I put down the phone.

  'She wants to appeal?' said Lisa.

  I nodded.

  'And it's going to cost money?'

  'Fifty thousand quid.'

  Lisa winced. 'Where are we going to get that from?'

  I shrugged. I had no idea where we were going to get the money. I slumped back in the sofa. I had done all I could for Helen, and it still hadn't been quite enough. A wave of despair swept over me.

  'I can't believe how stupid your system is,' Lisa said. 'If this had happened here, we wouldn't be paying lawyers anything, and they'd have settled by now.'

  She was right. The case had proved much harder to pursue than any of us had expected. There had been complications at Matthew's birth that had led to him being deprived of oxygen for a few minutes. The doctor had made some mistakes. When it became clear that Matthew had cerebral palsy, it seemed obvious that the doctor was responsible. Helen had decided to sue, with my support.

  It had been an easy decision at the time. Abandoned by her lover, Helen was alone and angry. Mother was never going to be any help, and Matthew, now two, needed constant care. Helen had given up a promising career in television production and was faced with a life where every spare minute was taken up with either looking after Matthew, or scraping enough money together to pay for looking after him. She was finding it very hard to cope – if it hadn't been for Matthew's total dependence on her, I was sure she would have cracked by now. She hadn't deserved this.