Hi-Tech Hijack (18 page)

Eddie had another reason for bringing a financial director on. Eventually recruiting one took longer than expected, and by the time they found someone they agreed on to fill the position, they were at the bottom of the barrel; and once again Eddie found himself in the position where Mickey was the only possible investor.

During the month before Eddie’s hospitalization, Shlomo worked at full speed handling the company’s ongoing finances and making contact with potential investors. Shlomo was a lovely guy. Stocky and kind like a friendly teddy bear, he was a natural optimist. His joining the company made a great improvement in relieving some of the strain between Eddie and Reuben, and his optimistic approach significantly toned down their anxiety about when the money was going to end.

“It always happens in the last minute because that’s when the fantastical expectations of the entrepreneurs align with the maximal degree of money the investors are willing to put in,” Shlomo used to say.

The six-week stay at the hospital drained every ounce of energy from Eddie’s body. He fought the fever he had consciously brought upon himself in a crazy move that was intended to save one year of research and allow Ebocell-Tech to stick to the budget it had committed to. On that night of total desperation after receiving Rose’s frustrating letter, realizing there was no chance for the two of them to get back together, and meeting Orit and her American fiancé, Eddie had made up his mind to go ahead with the insane experiment that could end his life.

Before injecting himself with the substance, Eddie wrote a long e-mail to Amit, who had gotten married a week before that. He was the only person with whom Eddie felt free enough to unburden all the frustrations of the past few months. His e-mail was like some kind of a good-bye letter to Amit and to life itself, although he never said so clearly.

I believe in a few weeks’ time, I’ll be able to join you for your wedding celebration here in Israel, or maybe not . . .

When Amit saw the e-mail the following morning, he realized it might be too late to stop Eddie from executing his plan. The ellipsis at the end of Eddie’s letter had only one meaning, and like Eddie, Amit could not dare articulate it.

He called Eddie right away and e-mailed him back, but got no answer or response. He walked around ridden with anxiety all day long, wondering whether he should call Eddie’s parents and check with them. But he didn’t want to worry them without being sure. Finally, he decided to wait one more day. When he checked his inbox the next day and still had no reply for Eddie, he made the call to Eddie’s parents. He carefully asked if there was anything new with Eddie. Eddie’s parents already knew what he had done and confirmed Amit’s concerns.

Eddie’s decision had been a mixture of despair with a hint of hope by its side. He was probably the first person ever to knowingly have a substance injected into his body that contained the African Ebola virus and managed to survive. What he injected himself with was a hybrid between the destructive Congo Ebola and the constructive Philippine one. In a well-planned move, he gave himself the shot in his home and reported to the hospital the following morning in the epidemiological department where Ronit worked.

“I’m here to admit myself.”

“I can’t believe this. Reuben told me he was worried you were going to do this, but I never thought you’d go that far. You’re insane, Eddie!”

“I may be, but what’s done is done, and now I trust my fate into your capable hands.” He smiled and wiped the sweat that was starting to drip from his forehead.

“When did you give yourself the shot?”

“Ten hours ago.”

Ronit paged the head of the department, and within half an hour, Eddie was quarantined in a fully isolated room. The finest epidemiologists in the country were alerted, and the Ministry of Health received an immediate report about an Ebola-infected patient being admitted to the central Sharon Hospital. It was the first ever instance of Ebola in Israel. When the Ministry of Health found out about the source of the disease, they immediately ordered that Ebocell-Tech be shut down. To the surprise of the health inspectors, the company was fully equipped with all the necessary licenses and permits and was clearly up to code with all of the hygiene and isolation regulations required by a factory that deals with infectious substances. The temporary shutdown order was revoked a few days later, not without some lobbying from Mickey, who exercised his many connections to reach the Minister of Health himself.

“No license or permit in the world can stop someone from going crazy and injecting himself with a dangerous substance with no more than a fifty percent chance of survival,” said Mickey. The minister was convinced, and the shutdown order removed. During the twenty-four hours following Eddie’s admission, his fever went up to 104° F. Later in the week, his lips turned dry and chapped; he had blood in his stool, and he coughed and spat up blood. The vicious virus lived up to the expectations and systematically harmed blood vessels causing internal bleeding. The disease reached its peak about a week after Eddie was admitted. The internal bleeding wouldn’t stop, his fever spiked to 106° F, and it seemed the fluid transfusions could not keep up with the rate of blood loss.

“We need to hope and pray that his body’s natural resilience can overcome the virus,” explained the head of the department to Eddie’s anxious parents who were not allowed to enter the room since he was in quarantine. It was clear; medicine had no solution to make their unconscious son better. The only comfort they found was in the true, sincere empathy Ronit showed them, hardly leaving Eddie’s side.

On the morning of Eddie’s eighth day at the hospital, his fever started to break, and later in the day, he even regained consciousness. A few more stressful days passed before the doctors were convinced the process was consistent and that Eddie was indeed beating the disease. He was still burning up for two more weeks, but the fever dropped lower and lower. His fever was no higher than 102° F; the bleeding stopped completely, and he was conscious for longer and longer periods at a time. By the fourth week of hospitalization, the doctors felt the virus was no longer dangerous, but it would take months before Eddie’s body fully recovered. Reuben visited him that day, and they agreed they could wait no longer. They had to sign the investment agreement with Mickey before the company reached bankruptcy. With Shlomo’s help, they exchanged drafts with Mickey and set the signing date for the following week, when Eddie was still in the hospital.

***

On the morning of the signing, Mickey got up early and got into his flashy Saab. It was 6:00 a.m., and the faint sunlight was starting to rise, calming down the incessant rain. It had been a stormy night for Mickey and Tzipi, as well as for the weather. Mickey’s back was hurting him, and the cold almost drove him to stay in bed for another hour. His meeting with Eddie and Reuben in the hospital was set for later that morning; but it was a Monday, and he didn’t want to miss out on Solveig at the gym. He started the car and drove to the posh sports club in Herzliya. He went over his schedule for the day in his head. He tried to recollect all the details of the contract to spot any last minute weak spots, but the thought of meeting Solveig in ten minutes prevented him from concentrating.

People are creatures of habits, always sticking to the same old familiar spots, and Mickey’s favorite spot at the gym was on a treadmill in the last row next to the wall. From there he could monitor everyone who came in. When he spotted Solveig one day, he had to change positions and move a bit more to the center so that he could have a better view of the amazing blond that regularly used the front center treadmill. For the first couple of days, at 6:20 a.m., some guy came for his usual spot, and when he saw Mickey there, he knew he had to get himself a new space. From day three onward, it was a regular habit, and the spot overlooking Solveig was Mickey’s and Mickey’s alone. Her skin-tight purple leotards could barely contain her perfectly round butt cheeks bouncing up and down with every step the millionaire divorcée took. Mickey would relish the kinetic image and treasure it until the following day at the same time, same place.

They first got acquainted after a week of Mickey following Solveig’s every move. He waited for her by the water cooler right after she finished her daily workout. The next day they were having breakfast together at the club coffee house. They shared a healthy meal that consisted of a huge salad, a bowl of muesli, light bread, and a pitcher of grapefruit juice. A huge mug of cinnamon-foamed cappuccino completed the opening event to what was clearly going to be Mickey’s next conquest. For two weeks he made sure to come to the gym when she did, and their breakfast together became a regular routine. Like a crafty spider, Mickey spun his web around the newly divorced Solveig, knowing every meeting brought him closer to thrusting his sting into his prey whose eyes acknowledged her eagerness to be trapped.

It would be extremely nice to celebrate the taking over of Ebocell-Tech with Solveig
, he thought to himself.

“How are we this morning?” He smiled at Solveig as they met by the water cooler.

“Excellent, as usual,” she said, smiling back, drowning him in the sea of her green eyes.

“I have to dash now. What do you say to dinner for a change?”

“Oh, tonight?” she asked, taken by surprise.

“Yes, why not? Is eight p.m. ok?” Mickey said, not leaving her time to hesitate.

“Ok. Where shall we eat?”

“On my yacht, for a candlelit dinner.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“What kind of food do you like?”

“Yacht means fish, doesn’t it?”

“Your wish is my command. Fish and seafood it is. I’ll pick you up here at the club parking lot at 8:00 p.m.”

“It’s a date.”

Two hours later Mickey arrived at the hospital as happy as could be.

The board meeting was meant to start in a few minutes in Eddie’s little hospital room. The oxygen tube had been removed from his nostrils and placed behind the bed, but the IV bag, hanging on a high pole above his bed, kept pushing clear fluids drop by drop into his arm. The impeccably-made bed with its crisp white sheets had colorful balloons tied to its four corners giving the room quite a surreal look.

Shlomo arrived a bit early with a big smile across his face. “It’s a good thing you still weigh a couple of pounds, otherwise the balloons would lift you with your bed up to the ceiling.” he said, laughing as they waited for the other participants to arrive.

“Yeah.” Eddie gave a little smile. “I’d love to float with it through the window all the way to some interesting safari in Africa.” He twisted his face, careful not to move the oxygen tube from his nose. He didn’t even notice it had been removed while he was napping after the doctors finished their morning rounds. It had helped him breathe for so long—a month and a half already—that he had become used to it completely. His tanned skin grew pale during the six weeks of exposure to nothing but neon lights. All the blood transfusions he had received in the first three weeks could not restore the color to his now-sunken cheeks making his naturally high cheekbones stick out even more the usual.

“Africa is the last thing you need right now.” A young doctor with a spring in her step entered the room and interrupted their conversation. She was carrying a tray of croissants that she was going to place on a small table in the corner.

“Wow, Eddie,” said Shlomo, smiling at Ronit and getting up to help her with the tray. “What an honor to have the doctor herself serving the refreshments. You be careful, Dr. Nevo. We wouldn’t want the medical board to make a note in your personnel file about disrespecting the stature of the doctors’ guild.”

“How are you, Shlomo?” asked Dr. Nevo, addressing the finance manager with a smile and assertively ignoring his remark. Shlomo already regretted his stupid joke.

“You can sit back down. The others are coming any minute, and I have no medical plans for the patient at this time,” she said, smiling at him and turning her gaze to Eddie.

“Oh, that’s ok. I’m just going to pop to the bathroom, and then I’ll go to the lobby to wait for the gang. In the meantime you can get the patient ready for the board of directors.” Shlomo smiled and left the room, leaving Dr. Nevo with her patient.

Ronit waited for the door to shut before wetting a small towel in hot water and leaning over to wipe Eddie’s brow. His thick black eyebrows couldn’t stop the pouring sweat from getting into his brown eyes. Ronit gently brushed aside the black curls that stuck to his forehead.

“We need to get a barber here to tend to this forest on your head,” she said, smiling at him tenderly.

Even with the height of his illness gone, Eddie was still getting hot flashes every few minutes. The fever was still nesting in his body. Eddie reached out his hand to Ronit and intertwined his fingers with hers. She said nothing, but smiled and tightened her grip. She closed her eyes, put aside the wet cloth, and stroked his hair.

They stayed like that, frozen for a minute, before she came to her senses, placed a finger on his pale lips and said, “You know how punctual Reuben is. They’re going to be here any minute.” Their hands parted and Dr. Nevo left the room. “I’ll get some soft drinks and be right back.”

Eddie’s gaze followed her. The short, white doctor’s jacket she wore accentuated her long legs even with the dark, wide pants she was wearing. The young doctor understood the power of attraction she had and made sure to tone it down and dress modestly at the hospital. Her tall, lean figure towered over the patients’ beds, and as she moved swiftly from one to another, her long braid of hair moved across her back like a pendulum. Poetry in motion, Eddie had named her.

“Good morning.” Shlomo and Reuben greeted him while entering the room accompanied by Mickey— tall, his head clean-shaven, and as trendy as ever. His blue eyes darted back and forth from Eddie to Reuben.

“I’d like you to meet Mickey Rush,” said Reuben in a ceremonious tone, “the owner and CEO of MRI venture fund. And this is Eddie Bartal, CEO of Ebocell-Tech. You’ve met before at Motty’s cocktail party, and you’ve heard so much about each other you’re practically old acquaintances by now.” Reuben’s smile stretched from ear to ear.

“Nice to meet you,” said Mickey, bowing gently at Eddie. Being a germ phobic, he made sure he wouldn’t have to shake Eddie’s hand by holding a huge bouquet of yellow roses in one hand and a large parcel in the other.

“Oh, thank you,” said Eddie, smiling. “You shouldn’t have bothered.” He gestured at an empty vase in the corner of the room.

“This you have to open right away,” said Reuben with a mysterious smile as Mickey handed Eddie the heavy package.

Eddie struggled to open the parcel placed on the bed beside him. It was a top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art, new laptop.

“This is too much, gentlemen.” He protested politely, but the light in his eyes spoke of the joy the new digital toy brought him.

“Following Reuben’s recommendation, this is my first investment into the company.”

Before Eddie could answer, Reuben quickly added, “I’m tired of downloading your e-mails every day from the clogged up inbox at the office. Plus, it’s time you warmed up and started getting ready for going back.”

“Thank you, Reuben. I mean, thank you both. This is really something I’ve been dreaming about, but never dared buying.”

“I’m glad to finally be meeting you in person, Eddie. I’ve heard so many good things about you. In fact, you not only have a partner, you have a fan,” said Mickey, smiling and gesturing at Reuben.

“Don’t go overboard,” said Eddie. “We’ve known each other for so long now our relationship has become a habit. And speaking of being a fan, once you get to know Reuben’s professional abilities up close and personal, you’ll realize yourself who among us deserves having fans.”

“Trust me, I’ve studied your company in depth, otherwise we wouldn’t be standing here today. I have the utmost appreciation for you both. You’ve made an amazing discovery, and I believe together we can take over the world.”

“Hold on now,” said Shlomo, chuckling. “When you did your due diligence, you weren’t as enthusiastic. You had many doubts that cost us a significant value reduction.”

“That’s part of the game Shlomo—buy low, sell high. So I squeezed you as much as possible. But that’s all in the past. Now we’re partners. Granted, I now have forty percent of the company,” said Mickey, making a point of mentioning what they all knew perfectly well. “Although we’ve defined some clauses where I have veto rights, we’re going to work as a team and make consensual decisions because that’s the only way to win.”

“Amen to that,” said Reuben, patting Shlomo lightly on the shoulder hinting at him not to develop the subject any further. Shlomo still hadn’t forgotten or forgiven Mickey’s aggressive approach with which he knocked down the company value in its most difficult time with Eddie on his death bed and Reuben folding so easily and without a fight to Mickey’s every demand.

About half an hour later, everyone said good-bye after signing every copy of the investment agreement.

That night Mickey celebrated on board the Suzy, cradling Solveig and himself in their lustful dance of the first forbidden fruit. Dizzy with success, Mickey could mark a day of double victories for himself—two wins in one day.

Eddie, still in bed, had a visit that evening from Amit and his wife Sandra. Since Eddie’s hospitalization Amit had been in regular contact with Eddie’s parents and as soon as the quarantine was over pushed his flight forward from South Africa.

“You have three weeks before the wedding so you better get well quick, no excuses this time!” he told Eddie. The exciting-but-exhausting day had clearly taken its toll on Eddie, so Amit and Sandra said their good-byes and left.