Hi-Tech Hijack Read online

  “As an infectious disease specialist, I’m sure you’re familiar with the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta. The CDC was the first to offer actual help. An American doctor was the first westerner who dared visit Congo. He came there with the help of the UN and accompanied by a Belgian, Congo-born doctor who lived and worked in Kinshasa, and together they came to Yambuku and stayed there for several weeks trying to locate the source of the disease and find a cure. The epidemic died out, after killing ninety percent of all the patients who had been infected. The doctors could not locate the source, which remains unknown to this day, and their contribution was mainly in boosting morale. It was finally stopped thanks to the severe quarantine the monastery area was put under.”

  “Well, the first rule in viral diseases is isolation, any med student knows that,” said Ronit.

  “Right,” said Eddie, “and what was most interesting was that even before the doctors got there, the chiefs were the ones who succeeded in isolating the disease. The intuitive approach of the towns’ and villages’ leaders was to prevent any stranger from entering—anyone who was not from their own village, white or black, was suspected of carrying the disease-demon. The villagers set blocks at the entrances to the villages to stop strangers from entering and managed to stop the disease from progressing from village to village. And inside the villages as well, the sick people and their families were treated as impure—or as potential carriers as we would put it. A year after the disease broke out, it was formally declared over. The American scientists from Atlanta made the scientific contribution of naming it Ebola after the river that runs across the region and defined the symptoms that patients presented with: a high fever followed by vomiting and abdominal pain and eventually internal bleeding and death within a few days. Unfortunately they did not succeed in tracing the source of the virus or in creating a vaccine for it.

  “We traveled through the area between the monastery and the Ebola River for about two weeks. In the little villages along the way, the locals treated us with suspicion, and on the rare occasion we met the village teacher or some other English-speaking person, we always got the same explanation regarding the apprehensive attitude: the trauma of the Ebola was still very much alive in the village’s collective memory. According to their beliefs, the demon of the disease was not exterminated. It was merely hiding somewhere, only to emerge one day in the guise of an unfamiliar person—most likely white.”

  “It’s possible that the locals have developed some sort of natural immune system and that the next person to be afflicted would indeed be an outsider,” said Ronit, speculating.

  “Since you mentioned immunization, let me tell you a little bit more about that: there are four known strains of Ebola—three of which are African and the fourth is the Ebola Reston, which is unique and comes from the Philippines in southeast Asia.”

  “How is it unique?”

  “It turns out people who came in contact with this strain were only mildly affected—a few days of fever—and developed antibodies that apparently made them immune to the really aggressive strains. Except no one’s done any further research. As far as I know there have been no experiments to verify the immunity of the Ebola Reston carriers against the deadly Ebola and no vaccine based on the Ebola Reston has been developed.”

  “You got me intrigued, Eddie,” said Ronit. “If you’d like I can do some research and look into the latest medical literature regarding the Ebola.”

  “I sure would,” said Eddie, jumping at the opportunity and wondering to himself what it was that made him more excited—the research Ronit was going to do, or knowing he was going to get another chance to see her again.

  “You had quite an experience there in Africa,” said Reuben.

  “We definitely did, and my urge to explore the Ebola just got more intense.”

  “What are you planning to do with it?” asked Ronit, wanting to know more.

  “I was thinking about combining the extremely destructive qualities of the Congolese strain with those of the Reston and developing a manageable strain that can be used to kill cancerous cells.”

  “Wow, that’s quite a challenge you have lined up for yourself.”

  “Would you two be interested in getting involved if I decided to go for it?”

  “Are you seriously planning to go ahead with this?” asked Reuben.

  “I have an important meeting with the representatives of the company that ran off on me to the States. After I meet with them, I’ll know a lot more. Let’s talk in a few days.”

  A group of soldiers wearing uniforms entered the pub, their chests proudly decorated with the badge of Eddie’s unit. Udi welcomed them with a hearty greeting and started pouring a long line of cold beers.

  “First drink on the house, as usual. Some of the unit veterans are sitting there in the corner.” Udi pointed toward Eddie and Ronit. The pub grew noisier and noisier, and Reuben and Ronit said good-bye to Eddie planing to speak again in a few days.

  Eddie stayed at the pub for a long while, surrounded by the lively conversations of the young guys around him who reminded him so much of himself only seven years earlier. His mind wandered back to his army service and he thought of Ronit, the unattainable medic, and of Orit across the ocean.

  I wanted them both at one time or another, he thought. And both looked unattainable until two days ago. Ronit still is; Orit wants me to travel halfway across the globe, and I have Rose waiting for me back in London. He recapped his romantic status and felt more confused than ever.

  Chapter 14

  “Law firm, good morning,” a receptionist answered Eddie’s call the next day. The distinguished firm of Berkowitz, Mendelsohn, Cohen, Cohen, and Porat included the five partners—who were all unwilling to relinquish the honor of having their names in the office title—plus ten associates and dozens of interns, paralegals, clerks, and secretaries. Two receptionists had already resigned, unable to withstand the demands of reciting such a long list of names every time they picked up the phone “like in any respectable law firm,” as S. Cohen, one of the partners, had put it. Following the resignation of the second receptionist in a row, the partners held a rigorous debate that ran long into the night and decided—in what was seen as a revolutionary act in the legal community—to forego the mentioning of their names and to make do with the simple greeting of “Law firm, good morning” before noon, and from 12:01 p.m. onward, “…good afternoon.”

  “Good morning, do you handle the business of Biotec.com?” asked Eddie.

  “Yes, I’ll transfer your call. Who may I say is calling?”

  “Eddie Bartal.”

  “Here you go, Eddie.”

  “Good morning, this is Galit. How can I help you?”

  “Do you handle the affairs of Biotec.com?”

  “I’m the department secretary. What is this regarding?”

  Eddie couldn’t help but notice the efficiency and high level of customer service awareness, even from the short preliminary talk with the receptionist and the secretary. He was impressed. He came to the office situated at the intersection of Herzl and Lilienblum in Tel Aviv later that same day.

  That area of the city, once the beating heart of the Tel Aviv business arena, had quieted down to a large degree as more and more businesses moved to the Diamond Exchange District in Ramat Gan and farther north to Herzliya, but it still housed many of the older, larger law firms. The office of Berkowitz, Mendelsohn, the two Cohens, and the one Porat resided in a 1930s building listed as a protected structure of historic significance. Its exterior had been cleaned and renovated with adherence to the Bauhaus style, but its interior told a different story altogether. On the inside the building had been completely gutted and rebuilt in an ultra-modern style with an internal glass elevator and parquet flooring in the corridors and conference rooms. In the lawyers’ rooms, the floors had been carpeted—the thicker the carpet the more senior the lawyer.

  Some clients they must have to be able to pay for all this,
thought Eddie as he was riding up the elevator to the third floor accompanied by the smiling secretary.

  “Who will I be meeting with?”

  “Your meeting is with Edit. She handles Biotec.com’s human resources business.”

  “I’m assuming Edit is a lawyer?”

  “No, she’s a para,” said the secretary.

  Eddie had no idea what that meant as “para” in Hebrew it means cow. But before he had the chance to ask, he was shown into a conference room where a young, attractive woman was waiting for him.

  Well, she definitely does not look like a cow he thought

  “Hi, Eddie. I’m Edit, and I’m the paralegal that handles Biotec.com’s affairs.”

  “Excuse my ignorance, but what does that mean exactly?” he asked while taking a seat in a large, black leather chair.

  “It’s what we call someone with an academic education who works at a law firm, but isn’t a lawyer and deals with non-legal issues.”

  “Does that mean you do illegal stuff?” asked Eddie, trying to break the ice with a bit of banter and to see if the formal, efficient paralegal had a sense of humor.

  “I guess you haven’t had the chance to work with any law firms in the United States.” Her tone was somewhat patronizing. “It’s very common there and was embraced here in Israel as well. The idea is that law firms can also provide other services parallel to advocacy, and there’s no need for lawyers to deal with these issues. I, for example, am a business graduate with a specialty in human resources, and here, I do all the placement for Biotec.com and for other companies the lawyers are working with.”

  “You learn something new every day,” said Eddie.

  “Absolutely. Life is a never-ending learning experience. So I gather you’ve missed the first train to Santa Monica, so to speak, and that you want to join the next group that’s leaving in two weeks. I have here for you a summary of the terms they are offering. Why don’t you take a half an hour to go over them, and then we can discuss any questions you may have.”

  “I’m assuming they can’t be much different than my original contract.”

  “I suggest you go over it in peace, and then we’ll talk. There’s coffee and tea or soft drinks if you want anything. Take your time. I’ll be back in half an hour.” Edit wore a professional smile, got up from her chair, and left the room with Eddie’s gaze following her impressive legs and arrogantly attractive figure. Then he returned to the file that had been placed before him. He brought the original contract that he had signed before the trip to Africa with him and was now glad he did so, since the file he was given only contained the new Santa Monica contract.

  Going through it, he realized quite quickly the terms were significantly different than the ones he had been promised in the original contract. When Edit reentered the room Eddie was much less easy going and friendly.

  “There’s been a serious change in terms for the worse,” he snapped at her.

  “In which of the counts do you see that exactly?” she asked.

  “Mainly in the counts that aren’t there,” he replied sarcastically. “The fee may be in dollars, but it is lower than the average pay for starting scientists in the States. I have friends who’ve gone over to work for another American company, so I can compare. More serious are the options, which were dramatically cut in comparison to what was promised to me, and their exercising period has been prolonged. Also, I am not willing to commit to staying in the States ‘as long as the company sees fit.’ There has to be a minimum time period, say three years, after which I can decide if I want to stay or continue the research from Israel while keeping my options.”

  “Circumstances have changed, Eddie. The company that made you the offer, Biotec.com, in effect no longer exists—or has become dormant, to be more precise. You’re now being offered this job by an entirely different company-Biogreen.com . Of course the two are related, and the American company has a sense of obligation and responsibility toward the employees recruited by Biotec.com, but it is in no way obligated to meet the terms Biotec.com has offered.”

  “And you mean to tell me all the employees that made the move accepted these terms? I thought the new company still wanted us at least as much as Biotec.com did. Otherwise, why offer us all the relocation?”

  “It certainly does. But still, we’re talking about an American company now, with everything that implies.”

  “What exactly does that imply?”

  “A position in a large, leading American organization is a chance few people would give up.”

  “So that means I should give up the terms I agreed to? I’m supposed to pay a fine for the fact that the Americans are graciously willing to hire me?” Eddie was getting angrier by the minute.

  “Getting upset isn’t going to get us anywhere, Eddie,” Edit said in a patronizing, pedagogical tone of voice she must have learned in one of her negotiation management courses. “We are simply executing the orders of those who gave us power of attorney. You know this is an American organization with rules of its own, and they don’t bend easily or change the rules for any one individual. They were certain the package they are offering is very interesting and that very few would turn it down, and as it turns out they were right.”

  “Well, you may have one of those few sitting before you right now,” he said, shutting her down. “The fact that they are American no longer guarantees success. They are just starting out and can fail like many others did. Money does not ensure success, and without the right people, they aren’t going to get very far.”

  “Yes, but money can buy time and people to get the job done.”

  “I can’t see that happening in my case.”

  “You’re listed as one of the people the company very much wanted to have, so with your permission I’d be willing to forward your comments to them and see if that changes anything, although I’m skeptical. Let’s be more specific: tell me exactly what your expectations are regarding the options or any other issue, and I’ll check. But remember what they say—‘it’s better to have fewer shares in a big company that’s worth a lot than lots of shares in a small company with questionable prospects.’ ”

  “I’d like to speak personally to someone from the Santa Monica management,” Eddie suggested.

  “I don’t think they’ll be open to that.”

  “This sounds just like a governmental bureaucratic system.”

  “Well, as you may know the Americans are very meticulous when it comes to their work routines and don’t appreciate any exceptions.”

  “You know what? If that’s the case, then don’t waste your time. I’m out.”

  Edit stared at Eddie for a long while, and when she was convinced he really meant what he said, she spoke more softly and asked him to wait in the room for a few minutes.

  “Hello, Eddie.” A tall man, accompanied by Edit, entered the room wearing a light blue shirt with the sleeves folded up to the elbows and a tie. “My name is Shuki, and I’m head of the paralegal wing at the firm. Edit filled me in on your conversation. The people at Biotec.com marked you as one of the most promising candidates they had, and I’d hate for us to miss out on you because of the new situation.”

  “You won’t be missing out in any case. You’re being paid by Biotec.com to do what you do. Those who stand to miss out on something are either me or the American company.”

  Shuki smiled politely but condescendingly and spoke in a sugary tone. “Let me give you something new to think about.” He opened a blue binder in a dramatic fashion, flipped thorough it briefly—letting Eddie cool down for a bit—and then went on. “As you may know, we handle several other biotechnological companies, and we know of another company, I am not at liberty to say which one at this time, that is looking here in Israel for up-and-coming talents such as yourself. If you’re interested I’d like to offer you a position at this company, which is still working in Israel in Rehovot; they are a competitor of Biotec.com. I’m sure you know it, though I can’t tell you i
ts name.”

  “You represent them as well?” Eddie found that surprising.

  “It’s being handled by different lawyers at our firm, and obviously we don’t transfer information from company to company. Our firm specializes in intellectual properties and biotechnological patents so we handle several companies, some competing against one another. As to the paralegal department which I’m responsible for, I have no problem offering you a position in the competing company. I am not restricted by the ethical rules the lawyers are bound by. I understand you’re not interested in going to Santa Monica, and I see no wrong in offering you an interesting alternative that suits your skills and that will benefit both you and the company.”

  Eddie stayed silent for a while. It may be legal, but it certainly stinks, he thought.

  “I’d have to think about it,” he said after a moment.

  “Absolutely, take your time. Here’s my business card. Just don’t wait too long. Things here move quickly.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed that already. I’ll get back to you in a few days.” Eddie got up and shook hands with Shuki and Edit.

  The super-efficient law firm with its five partners and hordes of lawyers and paralegals made Eddie feel frustrated, even disgusted. He needed some fresh air and quiet. He was too agitated to wait for the elevator and almost ran down the three flights of stairs out to the steaming Tel Aviv streets. His emotional turmoil led him west toward the sea, and he did not stop until he arrived at the low cliff above the southern beach. He sat on a rock overlooking the sea and Jaffa and fell deep into thought.

  Within an hour or two, I came to learn about an ugly side of the hi-tech industry, thought Eddie. I’ve been planning my career for more than six months with a sealed and signed contract in my pocket, and just like that, they tell me it’s all gone. The contract is void since they made sure to put in a clause that states everything is cancelled if the company moves abroad. Now they’re offering me a worse contract, and when I won’t take it, the same law firm tries to push me into the arms of a different company that probably preyed on all the people who decided not to move to Santa Monica. They’re pulling this stunt with the lame excuse that the paralegal department isn’t bound by the same ethics as lawyers are. I wonder what the guys at Biotec.com and that other company think of them; they can’t all be idiots.