by JJ Marsh
I had a secondary reason for going to America – language. As linguists, there was always an undercurrent of competition between us. It was never overt, but whenever we were in another country, Germany, Greece, France, Spain, one of us always spoke the language better than the rest. Gael had spent a year living in Munich, so naturally took the lead in Berlin (although Simone tried her best to compete). Lovisa’s Greek eased us through Kefalonia, Simone’s French took charge in Geneva or Corsica, and in his laid-back way Clark was our go-to man in Majorca.
My languages – Czech, Russian, French and English – put me at a disadvantage. We would never return to the Czech Republic, obviously. And the likelihood of us spending on New Year in Moscow or St Petersburg was remote. My one advantage was working with American developers on my new business. I had spent many months in Silicon Valley, hiring the right kind of technicians to realise my translation app. I understood America. Whether in San Francisco, New York, or Houston, I was comfortable. That was why I selected the Big Apple as a level playing field.
Everyone had a great time. We adopted our tourist personae with enthusiasm. Nothing was too tacky, cheap or obvious because this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. We took the ferry to Staten Island. We rode the elevator to the top of the Empire State building. We flew around Manhattan in a helicopter. We travelled back and forth to Harlem on the subway or in yellow taxis, exclaiming at the novelty of feeling like we were in a movie. We ate Cajun food in a basement, pancakes in a diner, hot dogs on the street and had a five-course meal in the meatpacking district on New Year’s Eve. Everything was exactly as it should have been and although we are not supposed to claim any of these events as personal victories, I think everyone would agree that was one of the best reunions we have ever had.
On New Year’s Day, Simone and Lovisa were up early, ready to hit the sales. The thought of fighting my way through aggressive crowds to grab a bargain sounded hellish, so I bailed out. Gael was still in bed, but Clark offered to go as far as downtown with them, before making his way to Ground Zero. A friend of his had lost his life there in 9/11 and he wanted to pay his respects. It wasn’t the kind of thing where you could tag along. They left and I opened my laptop to answer a few emails. When Gael got up, we talked each other into taking the subway to Central Park. We wanted to use the opportunity to eat a Danish without Simone screaming blue murder about the concept of putting cheese on a pastry.
January 1, 2012 was freezing. Gael and I emerged from Columbus Circle station into a crisp frosty day. I pulled my hat down over my ears and Gael tucked her gloved hand into the crook of my arm. We walked along the paths, taking photographs, admiring the scenery, greeting mounted police officers and soaking in the atmosphere of a brand new year. As we passed the horse and cart taxi rank, we briefly considered giving one of the ponies some exercise until Gael pointed out that after last night, we needed it more. It didn’t take long before the charm of frosty branches and blue sky wore off and the sense of frozen feet and cold faces drove us out of the park and into a café. We sat at a window, idly watching passers-by, drinking chocamocha something and eating a blue cheese Danish.
We were sniggering together at some fashion victim making his or her way up the street in ridiculous boots when Gael asked a question. “Are you pissed off with us, after last night?”
Truthfully, it was worse than that. I was infuriated at the short-sighted attitudes of my university friends and personally disappointed that they could not appreciate the generosity of my gesture. I was trying to make things right.
“No. Of course not. Everyone is entitled to refuse a gift and the giver should not take that to heart. I’m not pissed off with any of you although I do think you will regret your decision.”
She nodded, continuing to eat her pastry with a knife and fork. “I can’t speak for the others, only for myself. So thank you for offering us the opportunity to invest in your company. It’s been on my mind all morning. My decision remains the same as do my reasons for saying no. My primary concern is not having sufficient funds but my second is a golden rule. I never mix friendship and business. It’s got nothing to do with trust, as I know you are a brilliant business person. I just don’t want a financial bond tangled up with our emotional connection.”
I laughed, shaking my head. In effect, Gael was handing me a microphone and it was time to come clean to the cameras.
“Right, I want to tell you something. If you think it’s important enough, you can share it with the others. All I will say is this, I don’t think it’s anyone else’s business.”
“Mika, I’m not a journo today. I’m your friend and you don’t owe me any kind of explanation. Plus I’ve got a hangover. My head isn’t up for any major shit. I can just about cope with ordering another coffee.” She signalled to the barista for two refills.
“I’m telling you because you are my friend. You stuck by me when I was at my worst. In 2000, most people thought I’d lost it, obsessing about finding his corpse. In a way, I suppose I had lost my sense of perspective. My unrelenting drive to find Dhan was not to see the body and accept he was dead. It was because I couldn’t let him get away with it.”
The barista arrived with two more mugs of chocolate-coffee marshmallow stuff and Gael sighed. Whether that was the prospect of the coffee or my outpourings, I don’t know.
She licked a spoon and rested her face on her hand. “Come on, spit it out.”
“OK. I first heard about this translation concept in 1997. While we were at college, the idea of artificial intelligence and translation was in its infancy. But some people had taken the first steps from theory to practice. A friend told me about this start-up and I was curious. On top of that, it was obvious to everyone I had seed capital. One of our professors even put his name to the proposal. It will come as no surprise to you that the person who brokered the deal was Dhan. The business plan was brilliant, the costings seemed accurate and the financial backing was largely in place. I gave Dhan thirty grand as one of four stakeholders in the project.”
“That is amazing! So your business now was originally conceived by Dhan. He’d be so stoked to see the success you’ve made of it.”
I shook my head, my eyes closed.
“What? Mika, what is it?”
“That is not the case, Gael. After Dhan’s death, I was a mess, as you probably remember. Once back on my feet and through my final exams, I contacted the company to check up on progress. It was the first time I had made personal contact due to the fact all previous dealings had gone through Dhan.”
Gael put down her mug. She clearly knew or guessed what was coming next.
“The project had run out of steam in the early part of 1999. Dhan ‘invested’ my money in a project that was already failing and collapsed three months later.”
“Mika!” Gael’s voice was a whisper.
I opened my eyes. “I know. What is thirty grand to a rich Czech kid? Chicken feed, right? Wrong. That was my trust fund. Trust, ha! My parents trusted me to use it wisely. And I threw it all away on an ambitious idea. It took me years to recover from that, mentally and financially. When the dust settled, I went back to the idea and with cold, clear eyes; I acknowledged my initial response was correct. It was a good concept. Not the kind of idea a bunch of twenty-year-olds could knock out in a couple of months, but something a team of carefully sourced experts might be able to develop in a matter of years. Which is exactly what I did. I got my 30K back, Gael, and more besides. Yeah, you should invest. We’re going to have a very happy set of shareholders.”
“I’m sure you will. But I won’t be one of them. You mean more to me than a cash cow.” She picked up her coffee and hesitated. “When did you invest that money?”
“June 17, 1998. I have the contracts, not that they’re worth anything other than a lesson.”
She studied me. “Over a year and a half later, you still didn’t know the company had gone under? That’s not like you, Mika. You dot all the Is and cross all the Ts. You�
�re telling me you never even checked?”
The sun was setting and I sat back into the shadow. Maybe this was why I wanted to tell her. Gael had an infallible instinct for picking up on detail. “I couldn’t check. I trusted Dhan to inform me on progress. He delivered regular reports and I had every reason to feel optimistic. Except my gut told me something was not quite right. My plan was to ask for an update on New Year’s Day. I would suggest a walk in the forest, during which Dhan and I would fall behind. I knew exactly the right detour. When I was convinced the two of us were alone, I would pin him down and grill him for some answers. But that never happened. Because the night before that conversation, he jumped into the lake and disappeared. Like a fish off the hook.”
Chapter 11: Gael, now
On Sunday morning, when I got up there was a note from Lovisa on the kitchen table beside the pizza boxes.
Good morning! I hope you slept well. I had a call from the office first thing. There’s been a break-in. Bloody buggers! As the boss, I need to get down there and make a statement to the police. No idea as to damage or losses till I see it for myself. Who the damned hell would rob a charity over Christmas? Help yourself to breakfast and I’ll call around lunchtime. Mika’s flight gets in at two, so if I’m not back by then, can you let him in? Lx
Lovisa’s swearing was even milder than my mother’s. I made myself French toast and coffee, and browsed the newspapers till eleven, then decided to hit the supermarket to forage provisions for our chalet holiday. Lovisa called my mobile while I was at the checkout. She was going to be there for another couple of hours, so I assured her I would welcome Mika. It occurred to me to vacate the spare room. After all, Mika had made the request before me. Then I thought about the fuss he would make, insisting I take the bed while he slept on the sofa. It wasn’t worth it.
Something propelled me to the cupboard and the photo album we had pored over last night. I flicked through to the group shot which bugged me so much. Again, something stung. As if certain elements in the picture didn't belong there ... somehow the balance was off. I went through every detail on the table, all the cards and symbols, dishes and glasses. The wall behind us. The clothes we were wearing. Our young faces smiling. Then I noticed Dhan's body language.
It signalled the complete opposite of his smiling face. At first I thought his tense hunch was because he’d hurried back from the timer, but he hadn’t. Only I came rushing back from the camera, giggling under the time pressure. There I was, smile broad, eyes wide, with a hideous haircut.
I put my thumb over Dhan's head, focusing only on his posture. He was bunched like a sprinter, shoulders stiffened, his torso slightly angled away from the group. It might have been the split second of the shot, yet his face showed the perfect photo session cheese. His body spoke a different language. It was full of fear. He wanted to escape.
On a whim, I decided to meet Mika at the airport. The gesture was born mostly out of eagerness to see him and just a little from a desire to have some one-to-one conversation before Lovisa returned. I waited by the barriers in Arrivals scrutinising each wave of travellers as they came through the double doors. Finally a long, rangy figure emerged wearing a puffa jacket and a beanie hat. He wasn’t expecting anyone to meet him and strode off in the direction of the trains. I hurried in his wake and caught his arm.
“Gael! What are you doing here? This is a lovely surprise!” He kissed me on both cheeks and hugged me tight.
“I’m your welcoming committee. Did you have a nice flight, sir, can I take your bag, sir, I’m afraid the limo’s in the shop, sir, so we have to take the train.”
“That limo is very unreliable. Do you know, I cannot remember a single occasion when I’ve arrived in Geneva and it has been functional? I blame the driver.”
“Me too. You look great! Healthy as a hound. Are you still running?” I sped up to keep pace with his long strides.
“Of course. I’m planning to do a triathlon in the spring. What’s the news with you? And where are Lovisa and Simone?”
He stood to face me as we travelled below ground on the escalator. With him two steps below me, our heads were almost level.
“I’m fine, other than a shitty Christmas. Family, don’t ask. Lovisa is fine other than a shitty break-in at her office. That’s where she is right now talking to the police. Simone will meet us at the chalet. She’s skiing with one of her sisters.” A thought occurred to me. “Are you lot going to be all winter sports and healthy living this week? I’m not sure I can stand that.”
The train pulled in. We found a couple of seats and Mika lifted his suitcase up onto the overhead ledge with as much ease as if it were a bar of chocolate. He sat opposite me, his slate-coloured eyes crinkling into a smile.
“Good heavens, no. Apart from the snowboarding, cross-country skiing, mountain hikes and rock climbing, it’s going to be beer and cakes all the way.” He reached forward and squeezed my knee. “You’re going to love the après ski. How is Brussels?”
I shrugged. “I’m sure you read the news. The needle has been stuck in the same groove for the past four years. As a journalist, trying to write something new about the situation is like trying to hatch stones. How is Bratislava?”
Mika got to his feet to help a woman in a burqa stow her case. She thanked him in French and took her child to sit at the table opposite.
“Bratislava? Right now, it’s minus 16° and dark. Not that I notice because work is incredibly exciting. The translation app is now in its third iteration and more popular than ever. All those years of research finally bear fruit. And when I say fruit, I’m talking watermelons.”
I laughed. “I assume that’s Mika-speak for massively successful. Or in Gael-speak, you’re earning a wad thick enough to choke a donkey.”
His laughter was infectious. The Muslim lady and her child reacted with shy smiles and two older ladies gave him an appreciative once-over.
“As always, Gael-speak wins again. Yes, in Slovakian terms, my salary is exceptional. It probably equates to a Swiss supermarket worker by now.”
From the train we boarded a tram and arrived at Lovisa’s place just shy of four o’clock. Of our hostess, there was no sign. Mika and I went through the motions of arguing about which of us should have the spare room and he placed his suitcase behind the sofa. I made a rough snack of cheese, cold meats and bread with a bottle of cheap table wine from my morning’s shop. We sat at the table, grazing, chatting and recalibrating. I hadn’t seen this man for two years and every time I did so, I remembered how much I liked the guy.
“… because the thing that most translation systems lack is nuance. It’s genuinely impossible to provide an accurate translation service without cultural context. I know, I know, I’m preaching to the converted. But once we did that by taking phrases which when translated literally have no logic and put them within a cultural context, the meaning changes. That’s what makes this far more sophisticated than any other language translation program available. We are currently only at the European level although our investors can see what a crucial resource we’ve created. This is going global, my friend.”
“Long may you reign!” I said, raising my glass. “Makes me wish I’d invested now. You did give us all the chance.”
Mika’s face clouded and he sat back in his chair. I waited, nibbling on a piece of brie, until he was ready to speak.
“Gael, I offered you and all the others the opportunity to invest because this was not my idea. It’s not new or original; it’s just that I took it as far as I could go and with the help of some brilliant IT experts and extraordinary translators, took it that bit further. What you need to understand is that…”
My phone buzzed. A message from Lovisa. ‘Leaving now, home by six. Lx.’
I looked up at Mika. “She’s on her way. But you were in the middle of something. About the translation app.” I kept my voice light. “I wanted to ask you about that, actually. Last year, I met Professor Leigh when he was in Brussels to address t
he EU on the subject of research funding. He agreed to an interview. I thought he might give me some insider titbits, but it was actually dull as ditch water. I mentioned your translation app to him and he remembered putting his name to the original idea. The funny thing was…”
Mika froze. “The funny thing was?”
I folded my arms and looked him in the eye.
He stared back at me, his jaw set to stubborn. Then he laughed. “I should have known. I guess, deep down, that’s why I told you. Because you of all people would not let go. The funny thing was … the project collapsed from lack of funding. So you put two and two together and worked out that my investment never reached them. Am I right?”
I nodded. “Which leads me to believe Dhan scammed you out of thirty grand. Am I right?”
He took several seconds to reply, scratching his stubble. “Yes, I’m ashamed to admit that’s exactly what happened. For a long time, I didn’t accept it myself. It was more than just the money, it was the betrayal. I still don’t know how he thought he would get away with it. I have no idea what he did with the money and under the circumstances, there was absolutely no chance of my asking his family to give it back.” He shook his head, his gaze distant, then brought his focus back to me. “Did you really meet the professor or did you just go digging?”
I shrugged and gave him a guilty grin. I had to keep him onside because I had one more vital question. “A bit of both. I did meet him in Brussels, but his memory was not great. I had to follow up with a few phone calls. Mika, when did you find out?”