by Odeda Yaari
When he returned to the conference room, he ordered the story to be taken out without even bothering to provide an explanation.
***
“Look, Abraham, I don’t know what moves you had to pull to keep this article from coming out. Knowing you, I’m sure there’s an interesting story in there, too, which I’m guessing you wouldn’t be interested in sharing with me.”
“No, not right now, thank you,” said Abraham, indifferent to the reporter who had been chasing him for quite some time.
“You know me, and you know I’m not one to let a good story slip out of my hands. Now you just got me more annoyed and more curious. I promise you, I’ll find out how you made this happen. You have my word! You know that eventually the whole story will come out, whether you want it to or not, and all you’ll have achieved with your smart little move will be a delay, nothing more.”
Abraham hung up. He felt sick to his stomach and totally paralyzed. He knew that nosy reporter wasn’t going to let go, and that he wasn’t going to be able to stop the story from coming out indefinitely. And if that weren’t enough, now he had his rekindled relationship with Santo to worry about, too. He could see in his head the headlines plastered all over the papers: “Minister of Agriculture saves own skin by supporting international drug market!”
Abraham told his secretary to cancel all his meetings that day and to hold all calls. He slumped back in his armchair, his mind racing with all the possible ways the scandal could turn out, wondering if it wouldn’t just be best if he simply withdrew from public life quietly, to spare his family the embarrassment.About half an hour later, in a somewhat improved and more decisive spirit, he phoned the chambers of Judge Bar. The judge’s secretary was surprised to hear the minister himself on the line and promised to call him right back as soon as the judge returned to his chambers.
Abraham sat in his chair in a state of stupor. There was nothing he could do. He looked around him. He had gained his status with his own two hands. Clearly, if things had been up to him, he would never have gotten involved with the Colombians, but what choice did he have? But inside he knew that if it weren’t for the Colombians, he would have remained a nobody from the kibbutz—a penniless farmer. The faces of his two sons looked at him from a photo standing on his desk. He tried not to think of the consequences this would have on them. He stared at the phone for what seemed like an eternity before it finally rang.
“Hello, Abraham.” He heard the voice of Judge Bar. “I understand there’s some urgent matter you need to talk to me about. How can I help?”
“I must see you privately. I can meet whenever is best for you.”
Judge Bar thumbed through his appointment book. This was a Thursday and his schedule was packed, but he felt indebted to the minister for his help with Ron’s company. “I’m swamped all day today, and I have a function I cannot miss this evening, but I’ll try to leave there early, so I can meet with you at my house at eleven p.m.”
***
During his lunch hour, Edo left the office. Over the past few days since joining the company, he had tried to use his lunch break to get closer to the other staff members, eating with them and joining in on their conversations, as it served as the best opportunity to pick up bits of information with the bosses out of earshot. Today, he told them he had to run some errands, and walked briskly to a pay phone at a side street.
No one answered the phone in Santo’s office. Edo hung up and walked slowly back to the office. I tried, he thought, with a sense of relief. Now it’s out of my hands. What needs to happen will happen. He thought about the money he might lose and about facing Santo’s anger.
***
Abraham walked heavily along the ministry’s darkened halls. Around eight p.m., he told his security men to go home, despite their attempts to resist and against all protocols. He could not risk anyone witnessing his late-night meeting with such a distinguished judge.
He drove home, changed into jeans and a t-shirt, apologized to his wife for having to leave again for an important meeting, kissed his two boys, and left. He took his wife’s private car.
Judge Bar’s house was only a few minutes’ drive away from his own home. It was only ten a.m., but he chose to leave early and drive around for a bit to calm his nerves. He rolled down the window and breathed in the delicious, late-May night air, then turned up the volume on the Israeli music the radio was playing. The roads were almost empty at this time of night. Abraham looked at the cars that passed by. Every now and then, he’d check the mirror to make sure that no one was following him. As eleven o’clock drew near, he headed to Judge Bar’s, parked his car, and walked up to the house in low spirits. He rang the bell at the heavy gate, wondering whether Bar’s ambitions for his son and his good connections would prove helpful.Judge Bar was in comfortable clothes. In all previous meetings, the judge had always been dressed in elegant, expensive suits, giving him an unapproachable air. Next to him, Abraham had always felt extremely underdressed, as if he had just left the kibbutz. But now the judge looked almost like him, human and vulnerable, which made him feel a little bit better. He shook hands with Bar and followed him across the tasteful living room into the den.
“Thank you for meeting me like this. I just felt like I had to talk to someone who might be able to offer me some advice, someone whose judgment I value, or I might lose my mind.” Abraham accepted Bar’s offer of a stiff drink and began to unfold the Colombia story, since its beginning ten years before up to his last conversation with Santo.
“Even the newspaper holding back on the article is somehow connected with pressure from that direction,” he concluded. “And what scares me the most is knowing these people have the ability to get to anyone, anywhere, all the way to the top. We both know where these connections got me, but believe me, if I could have told them no ten years ago, I would have. That was never an option.”
Bar listened carefully. Every now and then, he’d stop Abraham for some clarification or jot something down in his notebook. What surprised him the most was finding out that the funds from the Ministry of Agriculture to Ron and David’s company had been stopped, but that they had never bothered to let him know about it. After all, he was the chairman of the company’s board and its biggest investor. He tried not to let on how disgusted he felt with the man sitting before him and with his actions. It bothered him that a young company, started with a true vision, was now deliberately being set up to fail. And for what? He put aside his personal problems. He would have enough time to deal with that later.
“Have you given the Colombians any information about the company’s activities?” he asked the minister.
“No, and I have no idea how they got that information. I’m ashamed to say that when you approached me about the possibility of the ministry supporting Ron’s company, I didn’t even look into it. Can you imagine how many applications like that are placed on my table every day? I trusted you, asked the head of our research division to check it and give me his recommendation, and honestly, I was looking for some poetic justice. I wanted to back a company that battled drugs to stop feeling this guilt I carry around with me all the time.”
That guilt was something Judge Bar understood perfectly well.
The minister’s long, self-justifying monologue made it clear to Bar that he hadn’t been the source of information, but merely a means of extortion in the hands of the Colombians. He still couldn’t figure out why the attempt of a group of young entrepreneurs to develop a product that would combat drugs bothered the Colombian tycoons, unless it was something else that they were after. Could they possibly know about the first part of the formula? Having been the one to draft the company’s confidentiality agreements, Judge Bar was one of the few on the board to know of the formula’s existence.“Look, Abraham, from a strictly legal perspective, I don’t think your situation is that bad. Clearly an ethical violation has occurred in the past, which shines a negative light on you, especially given your current position.” He pau
sed for a bit, just as he used to do when presiding over trials, before saying, “Before I can come up with a way out, I’ll need to look into all other aspects of this matter. I’ll see what Ron and David know, and make some inquiries with some other friends of mine. Perhaps I’ll be able to come up with a creative solution. At this stage, I suggest you try to resume your work routine and make the most of the time you’ve earned. I strongly recommend that you try to find out, carefully, if there’ve been any unusual contacts from the Colombian government at the prime minister’s office or at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.”
Abraham felt no kind of relief as he got back into his car. In his heart, he clung to the hope that Judge Bar would be able to come up with some magic formula to liberate him from this mess. But he could also sense that when the judge spoke, there had been a tinge of contempt in his voice.
He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he did not sense the lights of a car that followed him almost all the way to his house. The driver of the car glanced at his watch. He knew the waiting had been worthwhile, as always.
25
Ron couldn’t sleep at all that night. Things were coming to a crucial point, and the future was unclear. He had no idea how the Israeli investors were going to react to the offer of bringing on an American company, which would surely take over the whole business. The thought of being unable to straighten out his unresolved problem with the bank bothered him as well. It was only at around five in the morning that he managed to fall into a deep sleep, but that too was filled with nightmares. He was standing in the corner, being reprimanded by his strict, harsh father. “I am disappointed in you! I am disappointed in you!” The words echoed in his head over and over.
The phone rang loudly and startled Ron awake. He picked up and heard his father’s voice on the other end.“I’m disappointed in you, Ron!”A quick glance at the clock and the bright light coming from outside made Ron realize it was already seven a.m. He turned pale.
“Dad, good morning. Let me wash up and call you back?” he said, trying to buy some time.
***
Half an hour later, feeling less confused but much more scared, he returned his father’s call. He decided to let him talk first, to see exactly what he knew. It had been a totally unnecessary decision. His father picked up and went on talking as if their conversation from a half an hour before had never stopped.“How is it that I have to find out from the minister of agriculture that your grant has been canceled? You may not realize this, but we’re not playing some game here. You can’t act like a child and keep things from me. This is serious money that belongs to serious people we’re talking about, people who have agreed to take in this adventure not because of your talent, if you’ll excuse me for saying, but because of my reputation, my word. I am committed to them, and I will not let you spoil my good name.”
Between the lashes of his father’s monologue, Ron gathered that he had not heard anything from the bank and was relieved. But, as always, his father managed to make him feel like a little shamefaced child. All the success he had accumulated over the years, in school and work, could not make him feel any different.“Dad, I’m sorry I didn’t let you know, but we only found out yesterday evening. I meant to call you this morning to tell you all about it, and to say that David and I have already started looking for a solution. To be more precise, there’s a potential answer already, from an unexpected source. There’s this American company that does similar work, and they’re interested in us. A representative of theirs is coming to Israel. Of course, we weren’t going to go ahead with anything without the board’s approval,” said Ron, without stopping for air. He knew that if he hesitated, even for a split second, he would lose the confidence to face his dad.“We’ll be happy to sit with you and come up with a strategy for the meeting with their representative.”
Bar was used to having things done his way. He was always the man in the center, the one calling the shots, the one who got to have the final say. He was surprised at the conviction with which his son spoke, and something within him softened. He looked in his appointment book and asked in a somewhat more placated tone, “Are you free to meet this evening?”
“Yes, I think so,” said Ron, taken by surprise.“Good. Wait for me at seven o’clock. And have a light lunch. We’ll have Italian, your treat.”
Ron’s hands were sweaty as his put the phone down. He didn’t know what to make of the twist in the conversation. This was an entirely new feeling. Something he had said or done had made his father act differently.
Ron rushed into the shower. He took extra care choosing his clothes for the day in case the meeting with the American representative took place that day. As he left the house, he felt a lot better. He liked the well-dressed man who looked back at him in the elevator mirror.
***
Yoni waited for Bob at the airport. He had already booked him a room at an upscale hotel in Tel-Aviv, and cleared the next few hours so that he could be at his guest’s disposal.
The previous day, Yoni knew, Edo had tried to reach his man in Colombia, but failed. That means they’d had a few hours’ advantage over the Colombians. From the last recorded conversation they had, he remembered that Santo and Edo had arranged to talk again sometime this afternoon. Secretly, he hoped Bob would want to hold the meeting with Ron that same day, despite the long flight and probable jet lag.
The silver-haired man who came up to him wore a well-tailored suit and tie and did not at all match the image Yoni had had in mind—that of an awkward-looking scientist in corduroy and plaid. The way he shook Yoni’s hand spoke of a determined, to-the-point personality.On the way to the hotel, Yoni filled Bob in. The task they were facing was saving the whole company, which was much easier than their first goal had been—that is, only getting hold of Ron. In this new situation that had come about, Ron wouldn’t be asked to defect and cross the lines, and the company would be able to keep working in the comfort and ease of incubator conditions, under APC. In addition, as Sophie had requested, Yoni would also take care of the interests of the two young men.
When they arrived at the hotel, they decided to meet again in half an hour and try to schedule a meeting for that same day.
***
Ron and David waited tensely for a message from Sophie regarding a meeting. Ron said nothing to David about the morning’s conversation with his dad. They agreed they would need to call an urgent board meeting to fill them in on the details of the proposal, once one was made to them. By themselves, they had no authority to accept or reject any proposition that the company received. In addition, they decided that the ultimatum they were going to give the Americans was that their development must be made public under their names.
At two o’clock, they got the much-anticipated call from Dana. Ron excused himself and stepped outside to talk to her alone.
“Hello, Ron” said Dana formally. “I’m here with Bob, our guest, and we wanted to ask you to come to the meeting sometime before David, so that we can clear out the issue of your little problem. We’ll meet at the Hilton lobby at three and have David join us at four. Sorry for being so short, we’ll meet later.”
Ron wanted to get some more information about the man, to be better prepared, but she wouldn’t let him ask any questions, and he hung up feeling disappointed. Dana was much more than just a contact for him, and during the call she had been so distant and reserved, as if he were nothing more than a business associate, not someone she had shared her bed with.
“Today at four at the Hilton,” said Ron as he reentered David’s office, a smile on his face, feigning contentment. “I don’t have any more details because she was very busy and sitting there with the guy, but I understand she’s doing some groundwork. She’s a real pro,” he said, with a tinge of pride in his voice. “I need to run some errands, so I’ll meet you there in the lobby at four.”
***
Dana, Bob, and another Israeli man that Dana had presented as her boss, Yoni, were waiting for him
in the lobby when he arrived at the Hilton.Bob led the conversation and seemed to have been updated on all the details, because he went straight ahead and said to Ron, “I know you were surprised when I asked to meet you first. I’ve heard a lot about your work from Dana, and also from Joseph, your friend who works for our company. He sends his regards. I know you’re the brains behind your invention. That must mean that your brain and mine work in a similar fashion. Dana couldn’t tell me exactly what it is you do, but I gather we’re both working at the moment on a development that involves plant genomes. Yossi’s also told me a bit about it.”
“Wait,” Ron interjected. “You speak as though this is just my work, and that’s not the case. I have a partner, and we’ve been together all the way. We came up with the idea and developed it together. I don’t think I should get all the credit.”
“I know that, too. As you can see, there are many years of work, developments, and ideas hiding behind this graying hair of mine. Let me share something with you that I’ve learned after all my years as a scientist: Behind every great idea, there is always someone who was the first to think of it. Partners and team members help them march their idea forward. So as a token of appreciation for your creative thinking, and regardless of what we do or decide later on, our company wants to give you a little present.”
Ron shifted in his seat in discomfort. He knew the “little present” wasn’t being handed to him as a token of appreciation for anything, but to cleanse him of the badge of shame he was carrying with him, and certainly shouldn’t be seen as a prize for his creativity.
Bob placed his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, took out an envelope, and handed it to Ron. Ron opened it and saw a check for the handsome, round sum of $100,000, the price of shame, the price of defeat.