Final Venture

by Michael Ridpath

  'That's enough, Art,' Gil snapped. 'OK, let's take a vote. Diane, I take it you're still in favour.'

  Diane nodded.

  'Ravi?'

  Ravi had been listening to everything attentively. He did his best to avoid political posturing, but he wasn't afraid of making a difficult investment decision. And at a time like this, an unbiased investment decision was just what was needed. He took off his glasses, and began to polish them. 'I'd like to be absolutely sure that Hecht isn't hiding anything else,' he said. And I'd like to see the notes on the calls you make to the venture capitalists they spoke to last year. But provided those are OK, I think we should go ahead.'

  'Art?' Gil turned to him warily.

  'No fucking way.' Art stared at his Managing Partner belligerently.

  That was probably his mistake. Gil was in a nervous frame of mind, and if Art had subtly played on that he might have succeeded in killing Diane's deal. Frank would have known how to do it. But Gil would not tolerate open war amongst his people.

  'We do the deal.'

  I followed Diane to the conference room where the Tetracom people were waiting. Diane gave them the good news, and then gave Hecht a firm but polite roasting. She was trying to assert her authority at as early a stage as possible. Hecht seemed confident that Gil and Diane's checks wouldn't bring up any nasty surprises, and on that basis we started work on the term sheet.

  We broke at nine for dinner. We went to Sonsie's, a chic restaurant on Newbury Street. Diane was charming. Although Hecht and his boys were pros, I could see Diane's technique working. She used a mixture of charm and firmness to get what she wanted. Rather like a good teacher in a difficult school, she managed to inculcate a desire to please her in the people she dealt with. She had Tetracom eating out of her hand.

  We left at eleven with promises to meet up again at eight the next morning. I was walking into the street to hail a cab when Diane caught me.

  'Simon, I know it's late, but I'd like to go through those financial covenants again – see whether we can live with management's figures. Could you spare a half-hour to go over the numbers now? I'm sure it'll help us tomorrow.'

  She was right. It would. I was tired and I wanted to go to bed, but Diane was the boss, this was a deal, and venture capitalists didn't go to bed early if there was work to be done on a live deal. I wondered why not sometimes, but that was the convention.

  'OK,' I nodded, 'I'll get a cab.'

  'No need to go all the way to the office,' said Diane. 'My apartment is just around the corner.'

  I gave her a sideways glance, which she ignored. I was too tired to argue anyway. 'All right,' I said. 'Lead the way.'

  It was, literally, just around the corner. The electrician's daughter from New Jersey had done well. The furniture was either expensive and comfortable or expensive, antique and European. The art was expensive, modern and American or oriental. The whole thing was all very tastefully done, and very relaxing.

  'Coffee?' she asked.

  'Sure.'

  She dumped her copy of the base case forecast on the mahogany dining table, and fiddled about in the kitchen area. I pulled out my laptop and crunched some numbers. She kicked off her shoes and sat down next to me. The legal documentation contained a set of financial minimum ratios. If Tetracom's management broke them, they would be forced to hand over most of the company to us. These ratios needed to be set at a level that was loose enough to be fair, but tight enough to ensure that we could step in before the whole company went bust. That was what we were in the middle of negotiating, and that was what Diane and I had to sort out before the next morning.

  I knew Frank would never have bothered with financial covenants for such an early-stage company. His view would have been that the numbers were all fiction anyway. But Diane did things differently, and since it was Diane's deal, we had to do it Diane's way.

  In less than half an hour we'd cracked it. I leaned back on the antique dining chair, and rubbed my eyes. 'I'm knackered,' I sighed.

  'Such a quaint expression,' said Diane with a smile.

  'OK, I'm shagged out then. Don't you ever get tired?' She looked as cool as she had during the disastrous Tetracom presentation several hours before.

  'Sometimes. But the excitement of the deal keeps me going. Don't you find that?'

  'I try. But no. Late-night deals send me to sleep. I think the Commonwealth of Massachusetts should pass a law that agreements negotiated after eight o'clock at night are invalid. It would save the economy millions on lawyers' fees.'

  She smiled, and sipped her coffee. She suddenly seemed to be sitting uncomfortably close to me. Or too comfortably close.

  'Simon?'

  'Yes.'

  'Remember in Cincinnati when we talked about the firm?'

  'Yes.'

  'Well, things are developing. And I think you should know how. Let's sit down. Can I get you a drink?'

  'OK.' I was curious to hear what she had to say. 'Have you got a Scotch?'

  'I'm sure I can find one.'

  We moved through to the sitting area, and Diane produced a glass of Scotch stuffed with ice for me, and a similar glass of what was probably bourbon for her.

  We sat opposite each other. Safe. She tucked her long legs discreetly under the armchair and leaned back, watching me over the rim of her drink.

  'Art was blasted today,' she said.

  'I noticed.'

  'And it wasn't the first time. The guy has suddenly dredged up a drink problem from somewhere. He's sliding downhill fast.'

  'Gil must have noticed.'

  'He has. And he's worried.'

  'Is he still planning to retire?'

  'He'd like to. He's considering sending Art to a clinic, or perhaps postponing fund-raising for a year.'

  'But that won't solve anything,' I said. 'Art would be a disastrous Managing Partner of Revere. He was pretty awful before this. But with an alcohol problem? Gil might as well shut down Revere now.'

  Diane gave a small smile. 'That's an interesting point of view.'

  'Oh come off it, Diane, it's obvious. You think that. I'll bet our investors think that.'

  'As a matter of fact, they do,' she said, the smile still playing on her lips.

  I remembered Diane's breakfast at the Meridien. 'I get it. You've spoken to Gil and Lynette Mauer about this haven't you? And other investors too, I'll bet?'

  Diane didn't respond.

  'Get rid of Art, and make you Managing Partner?'

  Still no response.

  'Do you think it will work?'

  Diane allowed herself a grin. 'Yes, I think it will,' she said. 'Lynette is on board. Gil is wavering, but I'm working on him. But I'll need to build a team.'

  'Yes, I see.'

  'I'll need to recruit an experienced venture capitalist at partner level. And then there's Ravi, and you.'

  'Me?'

  'Yes. I need your help.'

  'As a partner?'

  'Yes. I'm sure you can handle it. I like the way you work. PC Homelease was a great deal. I think you'll succeed with Net Cop when the rest of us were going to write it off. I believe you'll be very good at this game.'

  I sipped the Scotch, my mind racing. I badly wanted to be a partner of Revere. There was no point in going into venture capital unless you became partner. That was where the serious money was made, and where the serious decisions were taken. It was what I had wanted since I had joined the firm.

  But I was wary of corporate politics. Diane was drawing me in, trying to get me to support her. Against Art. That was OK. Against Gil wouldn't be.

  'You're hesitating,' said Diane.

  'Oh, sorry. It sounds a great opportunity. I was just thinking it through. I don't want to become involved in some coup against Gil. I owe that man a lot.'

  'He is a good man,' said Diane. 'And he likes you too. Art is putting a lot of pressure on him to fire you. But Gil wants to keep you on. So do I, of course.'

  So Art wanted to get rid of me? Someho
w I wasn't surprised. During our conversation the previous weekend he had seemed to trust me. But after avoiding me for a couple of days he was back to his old self. I hadn't appreciated that crack about my memo.

  'Don't worry,' she continued. 'Gil and I are on the same side.'

  'What about the police investigation?' I asked. 'Do you really want to have a suspected murderer as a partner?'

  'I know you didn't kill Frank,' said Diane smiling. 'Eventually, so will everyone else. It will blow away.'

  I was impressed by her confidence although I didn't share it. I was also grateful. I had no right to expect such trust from her. Ruefully, I thought I had every right to expect it from Lisa. 'Thank you. In that case, thanks for the offer. What do I have to do?'

  'Not much for now. Make good investments, avoid bad ones, sort out Net Cop . . . '

  'And keep myself out of jail.'

  Diane winced. 'That would be nice if you can manage it. The main thing is, I need to know I can count on your support when I need it.'

  'You've got it.'

  She gave me a smile that warmed my tired body.

  'So who did kill Frank?' she asked. 'Do you have any idea?'

  'No. The police still think I did it, and they're doing their best to put a case together against me.'

  'I know,' Diane said. 'They seemed to think there was something going on between us.' Her eyes twinkled in amusement.

  I tried to keep cool. 'Yes. That's what Frank suspected. We had a row about it before he died.'

  The amusement left her face, to be replaced by sympathy. 'You must have had an awful time. Frank dying. The police on your back. Your wife leaving you.'

  I glanced up quickly towards her.

  'It hasn't been great.'

  'I know this is none of my business,' Diane said, 'but how could she leave you when you are in so much trouble?'

  I stuttered an excuse. 'She was under a lot of pressure. She thought I'd killed her father. I can understand what she did.'

  It was all true, but as I was saying it I felt a surge of anger. Diane was right. Lisa should have stayed with me!

  'You look miserable. Let me get you another drink.'

  I should have protested, but I didn't. My guard was dropping. Lisa had pissed off to California; why shouldn't I have another drink with a beautiful woman who was listening to me?

  Diane disappeared, and returned with another glass. Somehow she had put some music on, Mozart or something. She sat down next to me on the sofa.

  'Cheers,' she said.

  I swallowed my whisky.

  'Relax, Simon. You need to relax.'

  Slowly she leaned over and pulled at my tie, taking it off. She let her hand rest against my leg. Her presence next to me was overpowering. Her scent, which a moment ago had seemed so subtle, flowed over me. I could hear the rustle of her silk blouse next to me. I turned to look at her. Small delicate face, flawless skin, full lips slightly apart. She leaned over and kissed me. It was a soft gentle kiss, safe, yet promising much more. I responded. I wanted much more.

  She stood up, and smiled at me. 'Come on,' she said, slowly moving towards a closed door off the hallway.

  I stood up, and began to follow her. Then the muzzy feeling of warm relaxation snapped. I suddenly saw what I was doing with complete clarity.

  'No,' I said.

  She stopped and raised an eyebrow, the smile still on her lips.

  'Look, I'm sorry, Diane. This isn't right. I've got to go. Now.'

  I turned, grabbed my tie and searched for my jacket and briefcase.

  Diane leaned against the wall. 'Stay, Simon,' she said quietly. 'You know you want to. Stay.'

  'I'm sorry. I just can't. It's not you. It's . . .' I blurted, unable to string together a coherent explanation of why I wanted to go. But I knew I had to leave.

  I found all my stuff, and rushed for the door. "Bye, Diane,' I said, and ran.

  22

  I was ten minutes late for the meeting. Everyone was as fresh as a daisy, except me. Diane treated me as though we hadn't been entwined on her sofa only a very few hours before.

  I couldn't concentrate. I just wanted to get out of there and think. Once again I was following in my father's footsteps. I had meant my marriage vows when I had made them seven months before. Yet I had come very close to breaking them in less than a year.

  The meeting ended at eleven to give the Tetracom people time to get to the airport for their flight back to Cincinnati. I didn't join Diane on the brief walk back to the office. Instead I headed for the Public Garden. I gave her no reason. I don't know what she thought.

  It was a bright, brittle late-autumn day. A cool breeze brushed the trees, which tossed handfuls of yellow leaves to the ground in its wake. The sun was shining, but it scarcely warmed the air. Winter was not far off.

  Had I really done anything wrong? Lisa had abandoned me to the police. She had rejected my support. She didn't deserve my loyalty. The marriage was over, she had implied that. Well, she could take the consequences if something did start between Diane and me.

  I sat down on a bench by the lake, Boston's mini-Serpentine. Tufted ducks drifted through the fronds beneath the willow opposite me, cruising for breadcrumbs, while the upper floors of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel poked out above. I raised my face to the sun and closed my eyes.

  I could feel my marriage slipping away. It wasn't surprising, it had happened to my parents, and to Lisa's, and to millions of people in Britain and America. I could quite easily let it slide: there was nothing to stop me sleeping with whomever I wished as often as I wished.

  But what I really wanted was to get Lisa back. It would be difficult to do. I might receive no help from her, quite the opposite. I might have to swallow my pride, forgive her for walking out on me, forgive her for the things she had said and would say in the future. And I would have to make her believe that I hadn't murdered her father. All this would be difficult to do, maybe impossible.

  Was she worth it?

  I remembered her voice, her face, her laugh.

  Yes, yes, yes!

  I hadn't been back at my desk for more than five minutes when my phone rang. It was Diane. She wanted to see me.

  I entered her office with trepidation. But she gave me a friendly smile, and immediately launched into a discussion about Tetracom. Gil had made two calls that morning to venture capitalists who backed up Hecht's story. They wouldn't touch Murray Redfearn with the proverbial ten-foot pole. One of them questioned Hecht's judgement for linking up with Redfearn in the first place. A fair point, but not enough to sink the deal. The remaining calls were to the West Coast, and they would have to wait a couple of hours, but Diane was now confident that Tetracom's cupboard was bare of skeletons. A deal was probably less than a week away.

  Our conversation finished, I stood up to go. I was almost out of there, when Diane stopped me.

  'Simon?'

  'Yes.'

  About last night.'

  'Um . . .'

  She held up her hand. 'No, it's OK, I don't want to talk about it now. But why don't you buy me a drink sometime?'

  'I'm not sure that's a good idea,' I said.

  'Oh, come on,' Diane said, with a reasonable smile. 'You owe me at least that.'

  She was right. I smiled quickly. 'Yes, of course.'

  'Good. Friday?'

  'Fine.'

  'OK. Thanks for your help, Simon,' she said, and I was gone.

  As I returned to my desk, I wondered what Diane was up to, what she wanted. Her reputation suggested she was used to conducting inter-office affairs. She certainly seemed to know how to handle them professionally. But what about me? Was she just in it for the sex? Was she looking for a toy-boy? Did she get a kick from snagging married men?

  But despite her reputation, I had difficulty thinking of her as that cynical. We genuinely liked each other. There was an undeniable physical attraction between us. For my part, I didn't know whether it had always lurked there unacknowledged, or whether it
had only developed after Lisa's departure. I wondered how Diane would take me pulling back. Perhaps it would harm my chances of making partner in the new regime? Well, if it did, that was just tough. It would serve me right. I had been wrong to go as far as I had with her, and I wouldn't do it again.

  I wasn't looking forward to Friday.

  I faced the work in front of me, and closed my eyes. How could I have let things go so far? Sure, we hadn't had sex, but we had come very close. How could I have jeopardized even further a marriage that I was fighting so hard to save? Even if Lisa never found out, I would always know. It would be something lurking between us, threatening to flare up at any time.

  No. I would never, ever let anything like that happen again.

  'What's up, Simon?'

  It was Daniel, looking at me with extreme curiosity. 'Don't ask,' I replied. I glanced over to John's empty desk. There was a lot I needed to talk to him about. 'Where's John?'

  'Out at National Quilt all day,' Daniel answered. 'He left a number.'

  'That's OK,' I said. 'It will wait.'

  I checked my e-mails. There was one from Connie saying I was invited to Gil's club for a drink at seven that evening. My first thought was panic. Gil had somehow found out about me and Diane. But it was extremely unlikely that Gil would choose that venue for a dressing down. I had never been invited to Gil's club before, and I didn't think the other two associates had either, although I knew Frank had been a number of times. I wondered what it was he wanted to talk to me about.

  The Devonshire Club was almost empty. It was still early, only seven o'clock, and I was tucking into a beer and a huge array of crisps and nuts, dishes of which had been perched on the small table in front of me. The bar was small and cosy, red and leather. A comprehensive collection of obscure single malts guarded the entrance. The atmosphere was similar to a London club, a carefully contrived balance that made members feel at home, and guests feel slightly awkward. The club reeked of class, social exclusion, and, because this was America, not Britain, money.

  Three men in suits and striped ties came and sat at the table next to me. Two sported beards the like of which you hardly see these days, full bushy affairs. If the men were born in the early nineteen fifties, their beards were at least sixty years older.