Final Venture Read online

'Hey, why don't you get John to invest?' Daniel said.

  'In what?' John asked.

  'Net Cop.'

  'High potential returns, can't lose more than a hundred per cent of your money,' I added.

  'Can't,' John said, sitting down at his desk.

  'Why not?' asked Daniel.

  'I don't have anything to invest with.'

  'Oh, come on, John. You can spare the odd ten million.'

  'When can you get it into your stupid head my father doesn't give me any money? If I want a dollar from him, I've got to wash his car.' John said this casually. We had been over the subject many times before, and Daniel never believed him. I did.

  'Can't you suggest it to your old man? He can put his own money in.'

  'Oh, please.' John glanced at the screen full of stock prices in front of Daniel. 'Doesn't matter how long you stare at it. It's not going up.'

  'You never know,' Daniel muttered.

  'You've got to own half of BioOne by now,' said John.

  'Unfortunately.'

  'Why? You must be sitting on a big profit now, surely.'

  Daniel sighed. 'I bought a shit-load at fifty-eight.'

  'Warren Buffet would be proud of you,' said John, smiling.

  'It'll come back,' said Daniel irritably.

  A shit-load to Daniel was a lot of stock. After the Initial Public Offering the stock price had shot up, increasing fourfold. For the last year it had marked time, hovering around sixty dollars, until the recent slump with the rest of the biotech sector.

  'Still, our glorious partners are doing OK,' John said. 'I wonder how much their stake is worth?'

  'About fifty-four million dollars between them,' answered Daniel immediately.

  'Fifty-four million!'

  'Absolutely. Revere invested five million in ninety-four. That five million is now worth about two hundred seventy-five million. The partners get twenty per cent of the profits and there you are.'

  Trust Daniel to have the numbers at his fingertips. I knew that BioOne completely dominated Revere's other holdings. There were some successes – mostly Frank's, some big losses – mostly Art's, and a mixed bag of other investments, but BioOne was the only one that mattered.

  Fifty-four million to be shared between five partners! Of course Gil would get the most. Art would get a big chunk, because he had done the BioOne deal originally, even though everything else he touched was a dog, but Frank would get a lot too. The newer partners, Ravi and Diane, would have much smaller shares.

  No associate had yet made it to partner at Revere. It was a situation I desperately wanted to change.

  'So, what's it feel like to have a father-in-law worth millions of dollars, Simon?' Daniel asked.

  'It's all paper profits,' I said. 'And anyway I get the impression I'm not the favourite son-in-law at the moment.'

  Daniel smiled grimly. 'I kinda got that impression too.'

  'What does Lisa think of BioOne?' John asked.

  'Not much,' I answered.

  'Why?'

  'She had a friend who worked there who hated it. Apparently the Technical Director is a scumbag. You know, Thomas Enever, the Aussie. He runs a regime of total secrecy there. He's the only one who knows what's going on.'

  'I think she's wrong,' said Daniel.

  I shrugged. Boston Peptides was a much smaller firm than BioOne, and they operated in related fields rather than being direct rivals. But Lisa had strong views about the bigger firm.

  'Enever's brilliant,' said Daniel. 'Touchy, but brilliant.'

  'He must be,' I said. 'I don't know the first thing about biotech.'

  'Neither does Art,' said Daniel, laughing. And it's the only investment he's made here that's worked.'

  I smiled. Daniel occasionally helped Art out on BioOne, especially when Art needed some number-crunching done, and so he was the only person apart from Art who had had contact with the company. Art had backed an old friend from his computing days, Jerry Peterson, to buy BioOne four years ago. Daniel was right, Art knew nothing about biotech, and it was debatable whether Jerry, now BioOne's chairman, did either.

  It had turned out that BioOne had the most promising treatment for Alzheimer's disease, the chief cause of senility in old people. Alzheimer's was one of the most prevalent chronic diseases in the world, and although it had always existed, its diagnosis was growing all the time. Chronic diseases were good targets for a biotech company; patients just kept taking the pills year after year. That would turn into billions of dollars of sales once the drug was approved by the authorities. That was why BioOne was valued at one and a half billion dollars on NASDAQ, the high-tech stock exchange.

  Art had got lucky and it was difficult to begrudge him that, especially since the whole firm was benefiting from it.

  I was lying on the sofa in our small living room, an open book resting face down on my chest, my eyes closed, when I heard the door bang. I looked at the clock on the wall. Ten o'clock.

  'Hi,' I said, sitting up.

  'Hi.' Lisa kissed me quickly and plopped down next to me. 'It's dark in here,' she said.

  It was. I had been reading by one weak lamp. I liked the room like that in the evening. The yellow light from the gas lamps on the street outside would flicker through the windows, casting shadows on the white walls and the old brick fireplace.

  'Shall I turn some lights on?' I asked.

  'No. It's nice. But you could get me a glass of wine.'

  'Sure.' I opened a bottle of Californian red, and poured us a glass each. Lisa drank hers gratefully, and stretched out, kicking off her shoes.

  'My brain hurts,' she groaned.

  I kissed her temple. 'Better?'

  She turned, pulled me down to her, and gave me a long slow kiss. 'A bit.'

  'I wish you didn't have to work quite so hard,' I said.

  'No choice. It's like a race against time. We have to get BP 56 to a point where we can attract more money before we run out of cash. We've got to get the animal data finished so we can go on to the human trials.'

  'I thought you said the animal work was all done.'

  'It is. And it's obvious what the results are. But we need to get everything written up for the FDA. It's a nightmare.'

  'I bet.'

  Lisa finished her wine, and poured herself another glass. 'You didn't resign, I take it?'

  'No. You were right. I'm going to try to save Net Cop.'

  'How?'

  'I don't know. A guy from business school might put some money up. But we'll need a lot more than he's got.'

  'You'll find it,' Lisa said. Any more ideas about Helen's appeal?'

  'I'd like to go for it,' I said. 'She's trapped, and this really is her only hope of escaping. But we just don't have the money.'

  'Do you trust her lawyers when they say they'd win this time?'

  'I called the solicitor this morning. He is confident, much more confident than I've seen him before. Apparently this new expert witness is very convincing. If only all this had come up in a few years' time, when I was properly established at Revere. I'd be able to afford it then.'

  'I'm sorry, Simon,' Lisa said, touching my hand. 'I wish there was something I could do.'

  'You've let me blow all our savings. There's not much more than that you can do.'

  Lisa seemed to hesitate.

  'What is it?' I asked.

  'I saw Dad today,' she said. 'For lunch.'

  I felt a mild burst of irritation at this. It was another example of my wife and my father-in-law conspiring to see each other behind my back. 'You didn't tell me.'

  'No. I wanted to ask him whether he could lend us some money. For Helen.'

  I was shocked. My heart beat faster. 'What did he say?'

  Lisa bit her lip. 'No.'

  I winced. 'You shouldn't have asked him, Lisa. It was nice of you to try, but this is my family's problem. It has nothing to do with him. As he seems to realize,' I added bitterly.

  'It wasn't that,' said Lisa. 'He doesn't appro
ve of medical litigation. He thinks it's screwing up this country's medical system. I remember how Pop used to go on about it.' I had heard a lot about Pop, Lisa's grandfather, a doctor of forthright opinions. 'Dad just doesn't want to support it.'

  'But Matthew's life was screwed up by some incompetent doctor!' I protested. 'Someone's going to have to pay for that for the rest of the boy's life, and I don't see why it should only be Helen.'

  Lisa sighed. 'That's what I told him. But you know what Dad's like when he says no.'

  I did. Frank was a kind, generous man. But years in venture capital had taught him to say no firmly and finally, without leaving any trace of doubt that no money would be forthcoming.

  I would never have gone to Frank myself. I knew that I had no right to ask Frank for money, and he had no reason to give it. It was good of Lisa to try. But now Frank had said no, I couldn't help thinking of him as heartless.

  'I said I'd go up and see him on Sunday at Marsh House,' Lisa said hesitantly. 'By myself.'

  'Lisa!'

  'Sorry, Simon I had to. He asked me before I'd had a chance to ask him about the money. I had to say yes then, and I couldn't very well back out afterwards.'

  I shook my head. 'Look, I can't stop you seeing him every now and then,' I said. 'But we don't get enough time to see each other as it is. I mean, you'll be working on Saturday, won't you?'

  Lisa nodded. 'Probably.'

  'Well, then. It's as though he's trying to edge me out somehow.'

  'Oh, Simon, don't be ridiculous.'

  'I'm not being ridiculous.'

  'We always used to see a lot of each other. I love him. He's my father. Why shouldn't I see him?' Lisa's voice was rising.

  'I think it's unhealthy.'

  'Unhealthy? Jesus! And after I went begging to him for money!'

  'I didn't ask you to,' I muttered.

  Lisa glared at me, put down her wine, and stood up. 'Good night, Simon,' she said, and marched from the room.

  I sat there, in the half-light, feeling stupid. I let ten minutes pass before I went into the bedroom. Lisa was already in bed with the light off, and her body almost entirely submerged by the covers, her back to the middle of the bed.

  I took off my clothes and crawled into bed behind her. 'Lisa.'

  No response.

  'Lisa? Lisa, I'm sorry. I've had a bad few days. We both have.' I kissed her softly under her left ear. She stiffened. 'It was really good of you to try to get the money for Helen. Of course you should go to see your father on Sunday.'

  I kissed her again, in the same place.

  Suddenly, her body relaxed, and she rolled over to take me in her arms.

  It took three days before Craig would see me again. He still had enough cash to last a month or so, but he would need to buy and lease some expensive equipment if he was to come up with a prototype.

  He seemed in a better mood. Following Lisa's idea, we drew up a list of customers, and began to work on a presentation for them. He also called some of the newer, smaller and more desperate-for-deals venture firms to try to elicit some interest.

  It was seven o'clock on Friday evening, and I was preparing to leave.

  'We'll get there,' I said.

  Craig allowed himself a smile. 'Yeah, I guess we will.'

  I looked at him closely. 'Have you got an idea you haven't been telling me?'

  'Have a good one, Simon,' said Craig, grinning widely.

  Wondering what on earth he could be up to, I left for home.

  6

  I had hardly seen Frank at all since our awkward discussion earlier in the week. We used to like and respect each other, but not any more. I was worried about the steady deterioration of our relationship, and I wanted to do something about it. So, with Lisa's encouragement, I decided to have another try. I left Lisa in her lab where she usually spent her Saturdays, liberated my Morgan from its expensive lodgings in the Brimmer Street Garage, and headed north, to Marsh House.

  Woodbridge was a small town about twenty miles outside Boston. It had been a thriving port in the seventeenth century, but as the ships became bigger and the river became smaller, trade moved elsewhere and the town remained, a frozen relic of early colonial prosperity. Marsh House was four miles to the south of the town, nestled in the expanse of salt-marshes that filled many of the bays along this coastline.

  It was quiet there, isolated, and very beautiful. The house had been bought by Frank's father, and Frank had spent much of his childhood pottering around in the creeks in sailing boats. He still came here almost every weekend to escape the bustle of Boston.

  I turned off the road to Shanks Beach, and drove down a dirt track to the house, almost colliding with a small old lady in a huge station-wagon as she pulled out of her driveway without looking. She gave me an icy look. I waved and smiled, which only deepened her frown, and drove on down the bumpy track, wincing as a stone clanged against the bottom of the Morgan.

  I parked beside an old dinghy, pulled up on to a patch of grass next to the small white wooden house, with its freshly painted green shutters. Frank's Mercedes was there. I rapped on the door.

  Frank answered, dressed in a checked shirt and jeans. He wasn't pleased to see me.

  'What are you doing here?'

  'I wondered if you could spare me a few minutes?'

  'You could have called first. You should always call first before you come and see me here.'

  This took me aback. True, Lisa always called before she visited her father, but I hadn't wanted to give him the chance to refuse to see me.

  'Sorry,' I said. 'Can I come in?'

  Frank grunted, and led me in to the living room. The furnishing in the house was old, basic but comfortable. It was warm, wood was burning in the iron stove. Frank sat in 'his chair', a beaten-up old rocker, and I sat in a wicker sofa with faded cushions. Through the windows and the porch stretched the marsh, brown at this time of year, with streaks of gold, green, orange and grey. A wooden walkway made its unsteady way down to a creek a quarter of a mile into the marsh.

  'What do you want?'

  Frank looked tired, as though he hadn't slept the night before. His eyes were dark and strained, and he fidgeted as he sat rocking backwards and forwards rapidly. I began to regret coming. He didn't look in the mood for a reconciliation.

  'I was bothered by the Monday morning meeting last week. I wanted to talk to you about it.'

  'I thought we'd been through all that at the office.'

  'I know, but because it touches on a personal matter, I wanted to see you outside Revere.'

  He watched me impatiently.

  I ploughed on. 'Well, I just wanted to say that you have nothing to fear about Lisa.' My throat tightened. 'I love her very much, and I would never do anything to hurt her.'

  This was hard for me to say. Not because I didn't mean it, but because it was not the sort of thing that had ever been said in my family as I was growing up. But I felt it was important Frank should know it and believe it.

  'Sure you do,' he said, dismissively. 'Is that it?'

  'I think you're reading too much into my dinner with Diane.'

  He held up his hands. 'Who you have dinner with is your own affair,' he said.

  'Precisely.'

  'As long as you don't hide it from my daughter.'

  'I didn't hide it.'

  Frank raised his eyebrows.

  'I mean, I didn't tell her. But I would have. If it was important. Which it wasn't.'

  Frank's eyebrows gathered together. 'If you think having a date with another woman without telling my daughter about it isn't important –'

  'It wasn't a date! We were just having something to eat after work.'

  'I've seen the way she looks at you.' Frank glared at me. 'That woman is bad news, Simon. A friend at Barnes McLintock told me she wrecked a marriage when she worked there. I don't want her doing that at our firm, and especially not when the marriage in question is my daughter's!'

  I bit my tongue. There wer
e things I wanted to say, but I didn't say them. I had come here to look for a reconciliation, not to pick a fight.

  'OK, Frank, I understand. I give you my word I won't do anything to jeopardize our marriage. Especially not with Diane. And I don't want it to interfere with our professional relationship.'

  'It won't,' said Frank. 'I told you that on Monday. And like I told you, that's not the problem. If I were you, I would concentrate on not making any dumb decisions like promising a company more money when you haven't got the backing of the partnership.'

  I felt anger rise in me, but controlled it. I was getting nowhere.

  'And if you've come here to ask for money, the answer's no. I'm sorry about your nephew, but as I told Lisa, I have a real problem with medical litigation. I told Lisa no, and I meant no.'

  I stood up straight. 'I didn't ask you for money.'

  'That's OK, then.'

  'All right, Frank, I understand. Thank you for seeing me.'

  I held out my hand.

  Frank turned away as though he hadn't seen it, and moved towards his desk.

  'OK. Goodbye Simon.'

  'Goodbye Frank,' I said to his back, and let myself out.

  I drove a couple of miles to Shanks Beach, leaped out of the car, slammed the door, and stomped along the sand. A stiff breeze blew off the sea, and the beach, which had been covered with sprawling bodies only six weeks before, was now virtually empty. The waves, whipped up by the wind, crashed against the shoreline, scattering the wading birds in front of them. I walked along the water's edge, head down, dodging the occasional wave that reached farther up the sand than the others. I kicked a chunk of driftwood as hard as I could, almost hitting a surprised sandpiper.

  Frank, Diane, Helen, Craig and Net Cop tumbled over and over in my mind. Something was wrong with Frank; I had no idea what it was. But I could still keep things under control. If I concentrated on saving Net Cop, and limited my contact with Diane, then everything would blow over. Give it time.

  Although I still didn't see any way I could help Helen.

  I spent an hour on the beach, and then drove round Route 128 to Net Cop. I didn't arrive there until about half past five. I was told Craig wasn't in. Apparently he had been out all day. This was unusual for him, but everyone deserves a day off every now and then, I reasoned. So I headed home.