Final Venture

5

The scull cut through the river and the slight head wind towards the Boston University Bridge, where the Charles River narrowed. A mile behind me was the Union Boathouse from where I set off three mornings a week. I was into a good rhythm now. Legs, arms, shoulders, back, breathing all combined to produce the regular splash of wood in water on either side of me.

I had learned to row at school and had rowed again at Cambridge. In the army they had other ways of keeping you fit, but when I had arrived at Harvard it had not taken me long to find the river again.

On my left rose the Dome and Senate House of MIT, and beyond them the mysterious tall brown buildings of Kendall Square, housing the biochemical secrets of companies such as Genzyme, Biogen, and our very own BioOne. On my right was the long strip of green that was the Esplanade, then the noisy Storrow Drive, and overlooking that, the sedate apartment buildings of the Back Bay. The air was crisp, the water blue, and the sky clear. Out here, scudding through the middle of this broad river, I felt alone. I could think.

My conversation with Helen had depressed me. I knew she was near the end of her rope, and I wanted so badly to help her, but I just couldn't do it. If I could find the cash, and we did win the appeal, then her life would still be difficult but it would be bearable. I was the lucky one, with a wife I loved and a job I enjoyed. It wasn't fair. I wanted to share some of that luck with her.

Although the job wasn't going that brilliantly at the moment. My anger with Frank and the other partners was hardening.

I remembered the discussions Frank and I had had with Craig when we were putting the deal together. All three of us assumed that the extra three million dollars would be available. Sure, we had inserted the right to refuse to provide the funds in the legals, but my implicit assumption was that that was to protect us from Craig failing to get a team up and running.

From what I could see, he had done a great job. He was certainly volatile, but we'd known that when we'd invested. Frank was correct that in the last six months a number of companies large and small had begun work on the next generation of switches for the Internet. But none had the determination and sense of purpose of Craig. He lived and breathed Net Cop: it had become his whole life. He would get there first, I was sure. If only we would give him the funds to do it.

But the partners had made up their minds. There was nothing I could do to change it. I could disappear in a huff, my honour intact, my resume a shambles, and try to find another job somewhere else. But I'd be throwing away a promising career at a place I liked, working with people I liked.

Or I could do as Lisa suggested. Try to sort the mess out myself.

As usual, Lisa was right. I would stay and help Craig. I wouldn't let Net Cop die.

I reached the Harvard boathouses and turned round.

Frank's opposition bothered me a lot. And so did Lisa's reaction to my going to Cincinnati with Diane. I supposed I could have said no when Diane had suggested dinner the previous Thursday night. But nothing had happened, no matter what Frank thought. And Frank had overreacted to what he had seen, or what he thought he had seen.

Lisa didn't have anything to be jealous about. Did she?

Diane was attractive. I liked her. We got on well together, we had had a great time at dinner the other night. But I loved Lisa. I loved her so much, so much more than I could ever imagine loving someone like Diane. And I didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize that. I didn't want to end up like my father.

Sir Gordon Ayot (Bart) had never known his own father, my grandfather, who had died on the road to Arnhem. He had inherited a small estate in Devon, a baronetcy, and a desire to join the family regiment, the Life Guards, which he duly did. He did everything that a dashing cavalry officer was supposed to do. He gambled, entertained lavishly, womanized, found a beautiful wife, and learned to drive armoured cars round godforsaken parts of the world. Women loved him, and he loved women. This was clear to me from when I was quite a young boy. My parents did their best to keep the state of their marriage from Helen and me, sending us first of all to bed, and then to boarding school, but of course they didn't succeed. My father's expenditure easily exceeded his income, and the estate shrank until only a small cottage was left. My father felt let down, too. My mother was supposed to be rich, but her father had carelessly gone bust in the property crash of 1974. She tried hard to ignore her husband's recreations, and their expense, but when I was ten, they divorced.

I hated my father for hurting my mother. But I also admired him. Throughout my teenage years he used to take me off on a series of unplanned trips: scuba-diving in Belize, rock-climbing in Canada, and later when I was at university to nightclubs in London and Paris. Where the money came from for all this, I had no idea, and my mother could never find out. Then one morning at Cambridge I was called to my tutor's rooms. He told me that my father had died peacefully in the night, of a heart attack. He was only forty-five. I subsequently discovered that he had been drinking heavily the evening before, and there were two women half his age there to witness it.

Against my mother's wishes, I joined the Life Guards after Cambridge. I did it partly out of a sense of loyalty to my father and grandfather, but also because I thought soldiering would be fun. It was, and I was good at it, but in the end the layers of constricting tradition got to me, and I left.

I bitterly regretted my parents' divorce, and my father's part in it. At ten I had solemnly resolved never ever to do the same thing myself. And now, here I was, six months into my own marriage to a woman I loved, and my father-in-law was suggesting I was going the same way. It wasn't just that he was wrong: he had hurt my pride.

Lisa's parents were also divorced, of course. Frank had walked out from his wife when Lisa was fourteen. Lisa had never been given a satisfactory explanation, and like me, had never quite forgiven her father. But there the similarity ended. Although her mother quickly remarried and moved to San Francisco, taking Lisa and her brother with her, Frank had stayed single.

I wanted to make quite sure that neither one of us followed in our parents' footsteps.

I looked over my shoulder and saw the Union Boathouse speeding nearer. My arms and shoulders ached. It had been a good outing.

Gil's office was the largest in the firm. The walls were oak-panelled, the furniture antique. Pride of place was given to a portrait of a weak-chinned colonial nobody by Gilbert Stuart, after whom Gilbert Stuart Appleby had been named. The portrait had only arrived a year before. Gil no doubt liked visitors to assume that the picture had been hanging in the family home for generations. But Daniel had pretty good evidence that it represented the first premature expenditure of a chunk of the BioOne millions.

'Now, have you decided what to do about Net Cop?' Gil asked with quiet concern.

'I'm going to try to save it.'

Gil raised his eyebrows. 'How?'

I smiled. 'I'm not sure yet. But I'm not going to give up. I'll get the two million back somehow. And I'm going to try to make more.'

Gil watched me closely through those thick glasses. Then he smiled, the wrinkles rearranging themselves on his face. 'I admire your perseverance. Do what you can. But there won't be a cent more from Revere.'

I returned his smile. 'I understand that.'

Gil pulled out his pipe and began to stuff it with tobacco. The only place he smoked it was in his own office. These days in America you couldn't smoke a pipe in any semi-public place, even if you did own your own firm.

'You know the mistake you made, Simon?'

Plenty of responses leaped to mind, but I settled on 'No?'

'It wasn't suggesting the follow-on. That was just a matter of judgement. Nor was it your desire to keep your word. Despite what Art says, I find that admirable. It was making a promise that boxed yourself in. As a venture capitalist, you always have to leave a way out. Circumstances change, the unforeseen always happens.'

I wasn't absolutely sure of this. It seemed to me that if an entrepreneur had put his life savings, his house, his dream into a venture capitalist's hands, at the very least he should expect some sort of commitment back from the venture capitalist. But Gil had written the rule book.

So I nodded.

'Well, I'm glad you haven't decided to do anything rash. Good luck with Net Cop. Oh, one other thing.'

'Yes?'

'Is John Chalfont OK?'

'I think so. Why?'

'It's just he was pushing very strongly for that wind-power deal the other day. He should have been here long enough to realize we've turned down a dozen of those.'

'Just a temporary loss of perspective,' I said. 'Happens to all of us.'

Gil didn't look convinced. 'Hmm. Thank you, Simon.'

Encouraged that my career at Revere seemed intact, I left the room, ignoring the feeling that my doubts hadn't disappeared, but had only been suppressed.

Daniel was looking at the stock quotes on his computer. BioOne had edged up to forty-four dollars. I'd already checked. John was out.

Daniel glanced up. 'Do you still have a job?'

'I do.'

'Gil talked you out of it, huh?'

'Lisa did, if anyone,' I said.

'I'm glad one of you has some common sense.'

I grunted. 'Gil did ask me whether John was OK. I think that wind-power deal worried him.'

Daniel laughed. 'John's such an airhead.'

'Oh, come on, Daniel. He's not that bad.'

'Of course he is. Sure he's a nice guy. But what's the point of that? It's worth zero. He's a loser. He's going nowhere in this firm, it's obvious. You know he's only here because of his father.'

I shrugged. Perhaps Daniel was right. But I liked John and had no intention of writing him off as a loser.

Daniel noticed my reticence, and changed the subject. 'So what are you going to do with Net Cop?'

'Find it some money'

Daniel raised his eyebrows. 'How?'

'God knows. Any ideas?'

It was always worth asking Daniel for ideas. Despite his cynicism, he could be very creative.

He paused for a moment. 'What about Jeff Lieberman? He invested in BioOne, didn't he? He might have a go at Net Cop.'

I thought about it. Jeff had been at business school with us. He was an able student, and he and I had had a lot of time for each other. He had headed off for Bloomfield Weiss, a big investment bank in New York, but he had watched my progress at Revere with interest. I had told him about BioOne, with Lisa's reservations, and he had made a significant investment in the Initial Public Offering.

'It's worth a try,' I said.

I looked up his number and dialled it.

'Jeff Lieberman.'

'Jeff, it's Simon Ayot.'

'Simon! How're you doing?'

'I'm fine.'

'And how's my little BioOne? The price isn't going down any further, is it?'

'Forty-four this morning. Way above where you bought it.'

'That's true. I can't complain.'

'Jeff, I was actually calling about another company we're involved in. If you thought BioOne was risky, you should see this one. But the pay-off will be huge if the company makes it.'

'Tell me more.'

So I told him all about Net Cop.

The deal caught his interest. It had those magic words 'The Internet' attached to it. I told him the risks, that Revere had backed out, and we would need more money to keep Net Cop afloat, but that just seemed to whet his appetite. For him, though, there was one important question.

'Do you like it Simon?'

I had hoped he wouldn't ask me. I would have to put my reputation on the line for this one. I swallowed. 'It's very risky, but yes, I do like it. Craig Docherty is a winner.'

'OK, well send me the information. I'll let you know.'

'I'll do that right away.'

'Oh, and thanks Simon. Let me know if you hear about any other promising deals.'

I put the phone down. Jeff might invest. But I still needed to find a lot more money. That would have to wait until Craig had calmed down.

'Was he interested?' asked Daniel.

'He might be.'

'I'm going to New York this* weekend. I can see him if you like. Talk to him about it.'

'Thanks. Do that.'

I tried to call Craig, but he 'wasn't available', so I left a voice-mail telling him what I was doing. I could understand his anger, but he'd come round, especially if I actually did find some money for him.

Just then, John strolled in, whistling some hit song from the eighties and clutching a large latte.

'Still here, Simon?'

"Fraid so.'

'Hey, why don't you get John to invest?' Daniel said.

'In what?' John asked.

'Net Cop.'

'High potential returns, can't lose more than a hundred per cent of your money,' I added.

'Can't,' John said, sitting down at his desk.

'Why not?' asked Daniel.

'I don't have anything to invest with.'

'Oh, come on, John. You can spare the odd ten million.'

'When can you get it into your stupid head my father doesn't give me any money? If I want a dollar from him, I've got to wash his car.' John said this casually. We had been over the subject many times before, and Daniel never believed him. I did.

'Can't you suggest it to your old man? He can put his own money in.

'Oh, please.' John glanced at the screen full of stock prices in front of Daniel. 'Doesn't matter how long you stare at it. It's not going up.'

'You never know,' Daniel muttered.

'You've got to own half of BioOne by now,' said John.

'Unfortunately.'

'Why? You must be sitting on a big profit now, surely'

Daniel sighed. 'I bought a shit-load at fifty-eight.'

'Warren Buffet would be proud of you,' said John, smiling.

'It'll come back,' said Daniel irritably.

A shit-load to Daniel was a lot of stock. After the Initial Public Offering the stock price had shot up, increasing fourfold. For the last year it had marked time, hovering around sixty dollars, until the recent slump with the rest of the biotech sector.

'Still, our glorious partners are doing OK,' John said. 'I wonder how much their stake is worth?'

'About fifty-four million dollars between them,' answered Daniel immediately.

'Fifty-four million!'

'Absolutely. Revere invested five million in ninety-four. That five million is now worth about two hundred seventy-five million. The partners get twenty per cent of the profits and there you are.'

Trust Daniel to have the numbers at his fingertips. I knew that BioOne completely dominated Revere's other holdings. There were some successes – mostly Frank's, some big losses – mostly Art's, and a mixed bag of other investments, but BioOne was the only one that mattered.

Fifty-four million to be shared between five partners! Of course Gil would get the most. Art would get a big chunk, because he had done the BioOne deal originally, even though everything else he touched was a dog, but Frank would get a lot too. The newer partners, Ravi and Diane, would have much smaller shares.

No associate had yet made it to partner at Revere. It was a situation I desperately wanted to change.

'So, what's it feel like to have a father-in-law worth millions of dollars, Simon?' Daniel asked.

'It's all paper profits,' I said. 'And anyway I get the impression I'm not the favourite son-in-law at the moment.'

Daniel smiled grimly. 'I kinda got that impression too.'

'What does Lisa think of BioOne?' John asked.

'Not much,' I answered.

'Why?'

'She had a friend who worked there who hated it. Apparently the Technical Director is a scumbag. You know, Thomas Enever, the Aussie. He runs a regime of total secrecy there. He's the only one who knows what's going on.'

'I think she's wrong,' said Daniel.

I shrugged. Boston Peptides was a much smaller firm than BioOne, and they operated in related fields rather than being direct rivals. But Lisa had strong views about the bigger firm.

'Enever's brilliant,' said Daniel. 'Touchy, but brilliant.'

'He must be,' I said. 'I don't know the first thing about bio-tech.'

'Neither does Art,' said Daniel, laughing. And it's the only investment he's made here that's worked.'

I smiled. Daniel occasionally helped Art out on BioOne, especially when Art needed some number-crunching done, and so he was the only person apart from Art who had had contact with the company. Art had backed an old friend from his computing days, Jerry Peterson, to buy BioOne four years ago. Daniel was right, Art knew nothing about biotech, and it was debatable whether Jerry, now BioOne's chairman, did either.

It had turned out that BioOne had the most promising treatment for Alzheimer's disease, the chief cause of senility in old people. Alzheimer's was one of the most prevalent chronic diseases in the world, and although it had always existed, its diagnosis was growing all the time. Chronic diseases were good targets for a biotech company; patients just kept taking the pills year after year. That would turn into billions of dollars of sales once the drug was approved by the authorities. That was why BioOne was valued at one and a half billion dollars on NASDAQ, the high-tech stock exchange.

Art had got lucky and it was difficult to begrudge him that, especially since the whole firm was benefiting from it.

I was lying on the sofa in our small living room, an open book resting face down on my chest, my eyes closed, when I heard the door bang. I looked at the clock on the wall. Ten o'clock.

'Hi,' I said, sitting up.

'Hi.' Lisa kissed me quickly and plopped down next to me. 'It's dark in here,' she said.

It was. I had been reading by one weak lamp. I liked the room like that in the evening. The yellow light from the gas lamps on the street outside would flicker through the windows, casting shadows on the white walls and the old brick fireplace.

'Shall I turn some lights on?' I asked.

'No. It's nice. But you could get me a glass of wine.'

'Sure.' I opened a bottle of Californian red, and poured us a glass each. Lisa drank hers gratefully, and stretched out, kicking off her shoes.

'My brain hurts,' she groaned.

I kissed her temple. 'Better?'

She turned, pulled me down to her, and gave me a long slow kiss. 'A bit.'

'I wish you didn't have to work quite so hard,' I said.

'No choice. It's like a race against time. We have to get BP 56 to a point where we can attract more money before we run out of cash. We've got to get the animal data finished so we can go on to the human trials.'

'I thought you said the animal work was all done.'

'It is. And it's obvious what the results are. But we need to get everything written up for the FDA. It's a nightmare.'

'I bet.'

Lisa finished her wine, and poured herself another glass. 'You didn't resign, I take it?'

'No. You were right. I'm going to try to save Net Cop.'

'How?'

'I don't know. A guy from business school might put some money up. But we'll need a lot more than he's got.'

'You'll find it,' Lisa said. 'Any more ideas about Helen's appeal?'

'I'd like to go for it,' I said. 'She's trapped, and this really is her only hope of escaping. But we just don't have the money.'

'Do you trust her lawyers when they say they'd win this time?'

'I called the solicitor this morning. He is confident, much more confident than I've seen him before. Apparently this new expert witness is very convincing. If only all this had come up in a few years' time, when I was properly established at Revere. I'd be able to afford it then.'

'I'm sorry, Simon,' Lisa said, touching my hand. 'I wish there was something I could do.'

'You've let me blow all our savings. There's not much more than that you can do.'

Lisa seemed to hesitate.

'What is it?' I asked.

'I saw Dad today,' she said. 'For lunch.'

I felt a mild burst of irritation at this. It was another example of my wife and my father-in-law conspiring to see each other behind my back. 'You didn't tell me.'

'No. I wanted to ask him whether he could lend us some money. For Helen.'

I was shocked. My heart beat faster. 'What did he say?'

Lisa bit her lip. 'No.'

I winced. 'You shouldn't have asked him, Lisa. It was nice of you to try, but this is my family's problem. It has nothing to do with him. As he seems to realize,' I added bitterly.

'It wasn't that,' said Lisa. 'He doesn't approve of medical litigation. He thinks it's screwing up this country's medical system. I remember how Pop used to go on about it.' I had heard a lot about Pop, Lisa's grandfather, a doctor of forthright opinions. 'Dad just doesn't want to support it.'

'But Matthew's life was screwed up by some incompetent doctor!' I protested. 'Someone's going to have to pay for that for the rest of the boy's life, and I don't see why it should only be Helen.'

Lisa sighed. 'That's what I told him. But you know what Dad's like when he says no.'

I did. Frank was a kind, generous man. But years in venture capital had taught him to say no firmly and finally, without leaving any trace of doubt that no money would be forthcoming.

I would never have gone to Frank myself. I knew that I had no right to ask Frank for money, and he had no reason to give it. It was good of Lisa to try. But now Frank had said no, I couldn't help thinking of him as heartless.

'I said I'd go up and see him on Sunday at Marsh House,' Lisa said hesitantly. 'By myself.'

'Lisa!'

'Sorry, Simon I had to. He asked me before I'd had a chance to ask him about the money. I had to say yes then, and I couldn't very well back out afterwards.'

I shook my head. 'Look, I can't stop you seeing him every now and then,' I said. 'But we don't get enough time to see each other as it is. I mean, you'll be working on Saturday, won't you?'

Lisa nodded. 'Probably.'

'Well, then. It's as though he's trying to edge me out somehow.'

'Oh, Simon, don't be ridiculous.'

'I'm not being ridiculous.'

'We always used to see a lot of each other. I love him. He's my father. Why shouldn't I see him?' Lisa's voice was rising.

'I think it's unhealthy.'

'Unhealthy? Jesus! And after I went begging to him for money!'

'I didn't ask you to,' I muttered.

Lisa glared at me, put down her wine, and stood up. 'Good night, Simon,' she said, and marched from the room.

I sat there, in the half-light, feeling stupid. I let ten minutes pass before I went into the bedroom. Lisa was already in bed with the light off, and her body almost entirely submerged by the covers, her back to the middle of the bed.

I took off my clothes and crawled into bed behind her. 'Lisa.'

No response.

'Lisa? Lisa, I'm sorry. I've had a bad few days. We both have.' I kissed her softly under her left ear. She stiffened. 'It was really good of you to try to get the money for Helen. Of course you should go to see your father on Sunday.'

I kissed her again, in the same place.

Suddenly, her body relaxed, and she rolled over to take me in her arms.

It took three days before Craig would see me again. He still had enough cash to last a month or so, but he would need to buy and lease some expensive equipment if he was to come up with a prototype.

He seemed in a better mood. Following Lisa's idea, we drew up a list of customers, and began to work on a presentation for them. He also called some of the newer, smaller and more desperate-for-deals venture firms to try to elicit some interest.

It was seven o'clock on Friday evening, and I was preparing to leave.

'We'll get there,' I said.

Craig allowed himself a smile. 'Yeah, I guess we will.' I looked at him closely. 'Have you got an idea you haven't been telling me?'

'Have a good one, Simon,' said Craig, grinning widely. Wondering what on earth he could be up to, I left for home.