Green Kills (6 page)

Ronnie took the pen. His hand hovered hesitantly above the
document.

“You have to sign; otherwise, you’ll be giving our company the
kiss of death. I can’t fly to the West Coast and tell the funds that would like
to invest in us that our newest board member is uncertain about the safety of
the company’s flagship product so we’ve had to stop the experiments. I just
can’t.” Christian looked at Ronnie pleadingly.

“I’ve learned from experience that if you think you’re wrong —
there’s a good chance you’re really wrong,” Ronnie chose his words carefully,
“and I really don’t want to be wrong in this case.”

“Neither do
I
. I wouldn’t sign it and
risk human lives if I had even the slightest suspicion that the medicine is
dangerous. Not for any fortune in the world.” The CEO suddenly seemed very
determined in his recommendation.

“OK, I trust you.” Ronnie allowed his hand to drop onto the
page, and feeling coerced, added his signature next to Christian’s.

“Thanks, Ronnie,” Christian said, sounding relieved. “Let’s go
outside and take a walk in the grove behind the buildings. The rain has stopped
and the air is clear. I’ll show you the Celtics’ practice arena. If they’re
practicing now, it could be an interesting experience. And since you’re not
interested in an official presentation, we can continue our conversation out
there.”

A serene atmosphere prevailed across the pathways that
crisscrossed the tangled grove. They walked silently, the thick atmosphere that
had prevailed in the conference room just moments earlier now forgotten. The
place reminded Ronnie of the historic Ficus Boulevard in the Israeli kibbutz
Givat Brenner; he felt a pang of yearning in his heart.

“Perhaps I’m being paranoid,” Christian broke the silence, “but
lately, I have the feeling that I’m being followed. I’ve also been receiving
strange letters from someone who knows the company inside out. I don’t know if
it’s industrial espionage or a frustrated employee. I’m telling you this to
prove I’m counting on you. I haven’t told Henry. Not that I have any proof he’s
involved, but I find it hard to trust him. The surprise on your face when you
heard about the manufacturing problems we encountered convinced me you’re not
involved with any related plot. Yesterday, I spoke with two people from the
company you founded, and they said they would risk their lives for you. So
here, I’m risking mine as well.” They continued their walk silently,
approaching the Celtics’ practice arena, when suddenly, Christian whispered
sharply, “Don’t turn your head, but I’ve seen the man at the end of the pathway
six times over the past two weeks. What are the odds I’d see the same person so
many times in the course of just a few days?”

Ronnie peeked at the man from the corner of his eye. “Perhaps he
just moved to the area and spends time in the same places you do; perhaps you
share common interests and tastes.”

“You don’t really believe that,” Christian murmured and turned
back. “We’ll give the Celtics a pass, if you don’t mind. I don’t feel like wandering
here anymore.”

New York,
October 17, 2013, 5:00 PM

The previous day’s events had left Ronnie distraught. Ever since
his workday had begun, he’d been unable to concentrate on any of his
assignments. From the moment he’d signed the FDA document, approving the
continuation of the
trial,
his destiny had been tied
to that of TDO. He analyzed the situation again and again and always reached
the same conclusion. He had only two options: sign the documents or resign. The
second option was probably the wiser and more cautious, but Ronnie knew his
nature wouldn’t allow him to avoid the challenge. The meeting with Dr.
Jörgen  Zimmerhof, from which he’d just returned, reestablished his
belief that using the existing medicine posed no real danger, but before he
received a written opinion, he knew that the risk he’d taken might come back to
haunt him at any given moment. He wondered what Liah might say about all this
and dialed her number. He hung up after the first ring. The entire undertaking
is top secret, he reminded himself and felt embarrassed by the question which
popped into his mind:
Why can’t I trust the woman who’ll soon be my wife?

An impatient honk rescued him from his own thoughts. He returned
to the right lane, allowing the long line of vehicles that trudged behind him
to move on. With his right hand, he called Gadi, who, as usual, answered after
a single ring.

“What’s happening?”

“A lot.
I don’t even know where to
begin.”

“It’s your fault. If you’d called yesterday, you would have fewer
things to bitch and moan about today. Why didn’t you call?”

Ronnie began to relax.
“Just because.
Lots of things happened and I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“Like what?”

“I’ve been promoted to partner,” Ronnie announced dramatically,
and immediately added, “and I proposed to Liah and she accepted.”

“Without consulting with me first?
You
can’t be serious. This is exactly how you get your life into a mess,” Gadi
answered, completely ignoring the bit involving partnership.

“Not in this case, definitely not in this case.”

“Then you leave me no choice. I’ll be taking the first flight
tomorrow, and we’ll go out to celebrate. It’s been almost three years since the
last time I paid you a visit. If I understand things correctly, Liah will soon
be your new boss, thus I have to establish the rules of the game with her. I
hope it goes well, or else…” Gadi laughed.

“Don’t be insane and don’t waste your money,” said Ronnie, but
in his heart he prayed that Gadi wouldn’t change his mind.

“I’ll take business class and send you the invoice. Tomorrow at
six-thirty, I’ll be picking you up from the office. Get reservations for a
fancy, expensive restaurant. You’re paying for that as well.”

“Honestly, I’m really happy you’re coming,” answered Ronnie and,
for the next half hour, updated Gadi with everything that’d taken place during
his meeting with the TDO CEO.

“Awesome. We’re going to have a blast. Bye.” Gadi finished the
call in his usual abrupt manner and hung up the phone.

Ronnie was now all smiles and tranquility. Gadi was his best
friend, against all odds, actually. When Ronnie was seventeen, he’d
volunteered, like all his classmates, to instruct at-risk youth in the City of
Lod. During their opening conversation, the social worker explained to the volunteers
that according to her philosophy most of their energies should be invested in
trying to save the youths who had not yet begun to lead a life of crime, those
who still showed up at school now and then, their occasional attendance
indicating a desperate call for help more than any real desire to study.

Ronnie raised his hand and passionately expressed his opinion
that the system was choosing the easy way. “It does not matter whether they
show up at
school,
we need to find the ones who have
real potential and invest in them so that they can serve as role models,
perhaps even provide guidance for other children. I believe this is the right
way, and I’d like to contact such a school dropout to prove I’m right.”

It was only after his teacher, who was present at the
appointment, had intervened and vouched for him that the social worker agreed
to cooperate. “But only if I’m convinced you’re aware of all the risks and
receive written consent from your parents.”

The youth the social worker had connected Ronnie with was Gadi,
a fifteen-year-old boy who came from one of Lod’s roughest areas, Yoseftal
Street. His father had disappeared when Gadi was only three years old. His
mother had raised him by herself since then, barely able to make a living by
doing janitorial work for City Hall and cleaning private houses. All the
relevant authorities were in agreement that the child was brilliant, but lacked
any will or ability to accept authority. He regularly hung around criminals and
hadn’t seen the inside of a classroom for quite some time. After much effort
and not a few threats, a meeting between the two teenagers had been arranged.
It was marked as an utter failure from the very first moment. Gadi demonstrated
deep contempt and an unwillingness to communicate with the spoiled kid from the
kibbutz. “I don’t need any favors from you,” he repeated again and again
throughout the conversation. Finally, he defiantly left, leaving Ronnie by
himself, beaten and frustrated. In a spur-of-the-moment decision, Ronnie decided
to follow him, and when he finally found him, kept on walking beside him down
the alleyways of Lod without uttering a single word. After about twenty
minutes, Gadi shouted at him, “What do you want? You’re such a leech! Do I need
to beat the crap out of you so you get your ass out of here?” His body language
clearly indicated he was ready for battle, in spite of the marked differences
in age and size.

Ronnie stopped. “I’m a nerd from the kibbutz. I’m not looking
for a fight, but I can still kick the shit out of you, if I have to. But maybe,
instead of really going at it, we stand here by the fence and do some arm
wrestling. If you win, I’ll turn around and get out of your life for good.
 But if I win, you’re going to give me a chance to get to know you better,
and for you to know me. If, after we know each other well, you still aren’t
interested in my company, I promise that I won’t insist.”

Gadi smiled, sure of his victory. He jumped over the fence,
turned around, and positioned his right elbow on the concrete rail, ready for
battle. Ronnie stood in front of him, ignoring the sharp stones digging into
his elbow and said, “Just start whenever you’re ready.”

Before he could finish the sentence, he felt Gadi furiously
attacking his arm, leaning his entire body weight against it. Ronnie remained
firm and unmoving. Years of hard physical labor had strengthened the muscles of
his arm. As minutes passed, Gadi’s
breath
quickened,
but he couldn’t move Ronnie’s hand even by an inch. Finally, he raised his
eyes, looked at Ronnie, who wasn’t even sweating, and panted, “Draw?”

“Draw,” Ronnie agreed.

Gadi wiped his hands and said, “That means you didn’t win,
doesn’t it? So I don’t have to get to know you.
Seeya!”

“You know what, you’re probably right. Just do me a favor and
take me back to the place where we first met. OK?”

Gadi, who had expected an entirely different reply, turned
around, said, “Come on,” and began to walk. On the way, Ronnie spoke about the
kibbutz and invited him for a visit. Gadi pretended he wasn’t listening. When
they parted, Ronnie gave him his home telephone number and to his surprise,
after some slight hesitation, Gadi agreed to take it and wrote the number on
his wrist.

Over the following months, the boys would meet at least twice a
week, with Gadi remaining restrained, but not missing a single meeting. One
day, Gadi arrived at the kibbutz unannounced and knocked on Ronnie’s door.
Ronnie’s mother, who opened the door, told Gadi that her son was in Tel Aviv
and would return that evening. “But,” she added, “
you’re
welcome to wait for him. We’re just about to go to the kibbutz dining room to
have lunch. Why don’t you join us?”

Gadi stepped inside hesitantly and remained standing at the
center of the room.

“My name is Judith, and this is Moses, Ronnie’s father, and
that’s his sister, Rebecca. Gadi is Ronnie’s friend,” Judith introduced all the
people in the room to him, “and he’ll be joining us for lunch.”

In the dining room, Gadi filled his tray with enough food to
satisfy the hunger of an entire pack of wolves and devoured every last bit.
They ate in silence, and once they’d finished, Moses turned to him and said, “I
need to head out to the cowshed to fill up the feeding stations. You look like
a strong young man. Unless you’ve got something better to do, I’d be happy if
you could give me a hand.”

Gadi joined Moses. The afternoon hours passed by quickly, and
when they returned home, Ronnie welcomed Gadi. “You smell like cow shit.” He
was beside himself with pleasure. “Go take a shower, then we’ll go meet a few
of my friends at the kibbutz club. After that, my mother insists you call your
mother and tell her you’re sleeping over. She won’t hear of you going back to
Lod by yourself at night.”

“We don’t have a telephone,” answered Gadi, embarrassed, “but I
can try and call the family my mother works for; she babysits their children in
the evenings.”

After Gadi had showered, and as they walked toward the club, he
quickly said with his head downcast, “This is the first time in my life anyone
has worried about me.”

In the months that followed, Gadi put Ronnie and his family
through a series of tests. He deliberately got into fights and was arrested for
disorderly conduct, giving Ronnie’s parents’ names to the police so they would
come to bail him out. Each time, they did indeed come, accompanied by Ronnie,
and vouched for him without asking any questions. One time, Ronnie took Gadi
aside and told him, “Since you’re jerking us around and expect us to come here
every time, we might as well pay you back. Starting tomorrow, you’re going back
to school and you’re studying seriously. We came here in the kibbutz vehicle;
you’ll find a schoolbag there filled with all the books you need and new
notebooks. It’s time for you to take responsibility for your life. By the way,
I’m not asking, I’m telling!”

Gadi returned to school and became a good student, although not
a very diligent one. With the social worker’s approval and his mother’s
blessing, a year later, Gadi moved to the kibbutz. Two years after Ronnie had enlisted
in an elite unit, Gadi joined the army as well. The army had realized the best
way to catch criminals was to work with men who’d grown up with them, so Gadi
was stationed in the criminal investigation division, where he took an
investigator’s course, graduated with honors, and became a living legend,
closing the highest number of cases in the unit’s history. “The criminals don’t
stand a chance against him,” people in the unit said knowingly, “he knows how
to think like them, only ten times faster.”

When Ronnie was discharged after five years (his mandatory three
plus two additional years as a paid, career soldier) and began to study at the
Israel Institute of Technology, Gadi enrolled in the Haifa University
department of criminology. They both graduated with honors. Even though Gadi
was wooed by various security organizations, he eventually decided to open an
office of his own, handling private investigations and security services.
Ronnie moved to the United States to continue his studies. They both found the
distance between them to be difficult, and the occasional visits had done
little to satisfy their need to spend time with each other, a need they tried
to fill with daily telephone conversations.

The sound of an incoming telephone call disrupted Ronnie’s
memories. Evelyn’s name appeared on the screen. “David wants you to come to his
office immediately. He asked me to make it clear that he means now,”
she
said, then whispered, “Henry’s in the room as well,
they’re both waiting for you. It looks very serious.”

“Thanks, Evelyn. I’ll be right there.” He drove the remaining
two miles quickly then left his car at the parking lot entrance. As he hurried
down the corridor to David’s office, he was accompanied by the questioning
stares of the employees. David was clearly in a state.  He sat with his
elbows on the table, his head in his hands. Henry was standing by his side, a
distraught expression on his face, his eyes flitting around as if seeking
something.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Ronnie opened.

“Christian Lumner was found dead in his hotel room,” Henry
immediately fired at him. “A suicide note was found next to him in
which
he begs his loved ones’ forgiveness. It didn’t contain
any explanation for his act.”

A wave of pain struck Ronnie. “I met with him just yesterday.
There wasn’t any indication he could be planning something so extreme. You have
any idea what could have made him do this?”

“I’m not interested in the private lives of my CEOs,” Henry
answered frigidly. “We only need to prepare for the event the police may tie
this case to the company or its products. We can’t have the company value drop,
especially now that we’ve started to raise money for the fund.”

Ronnie couldn’t believe his ears. Henry had just been told that one
of his portfolio companies’ CEOs had taken his own life, and all he cared about
was the possible damage to the fund-raising process?

Henry read his thoughts and added, “Don’t give me that
self-righteous look. Obviously, I’m grieved by this terrible disaster. But
we’ll have time enough to mourn. At the moment we owe it to ourselves, and even
more so to our investors, to do some damage control. The company is yours. When
you agreed to take it, it was for good or ill. Sadly for you, and for us, it
turned out badly very quickly. But weren’t you the one who said a company is
always on the verge of the next crisis? David and I expect you to drop
everything else and fly to California to take care of this matter so that our
fund's name won’t get entangled in this unfortunate development. I’ve asked
Evelyn to get you a ticket on the red-eye. Please update me personally with any
developments.”