Chapter 38
Her life was hurtled into a precipitous spin as soon as she was invited to attend a shareholders meeting of “Retamim Construction Company.” She found out there about a registrar of shareholders, and she later discovered several other companies of which she was the owner. She no longer had any doubt that Matti had intentionally concealed information about her assets from her, and he probably spurred himself and Rina to speed up the work on the estate before she had a chance to find out about their omissions. She could, if she so chose, sue them for breach of professional ethics as lawyers, but she was reluctant to sling mud at them, overexpose as she was by the sensation seeking yellow press. Her own newly forged determination was of some consolation to her, alleviating her unpleasant feelings; this time, she determined, she would not hesitate to fire them. She would write them a polite yet icy letter, even though she knew that by so doing, she would certainly add them to her list of enemies.
Talia called a meeting of the shareholders of the companies she now owned. Mody, Micah and Uzzi, who were also shareholders, ganged up together to harm her interests. One day, when she arrived at a shareholders’ meeting, she discovered that she had been deprived of her permanent parking place. Sammy, the parking lot attendant, almost cried with shame. “Talia, please don’t be mad at me; it’s the director-general’s fault. He told me, ‘When Talia gets here, tell her she can park her car wherever she wants, except in the company mangers’ spaces.’”
“Is that so? And who has my spot now?”
“The general-manager, Uzzi.”
“Then watch this, Sammy, and as far as I’m concerned, you can report to the general-manager everything that you’re going to see here. I take full responsibility for what’s going to happen, “Talia said, revving her motor. The car roared and lurched ahead, breaking the rope that blocked access to the parking space. She got out and inspected the car, now ensconced in its familiar square. “Say hello to Uzzi from me,” she waved to Sammy, and hurried to the administration offices.
Mr. Weinberg, the bank manager, greeted her with coldness and hostility when she came to hear a report about “Horno’a Electronics Company.” “The company has suffered grave losses,” he informed her, “and you, as the chief shareholder, owe the bank six hundred thousand dollars.”
“But how is this possible? Only two weeks ago, you gave me glowing reports.” She found the man repulsive, not because he was the bearer of bad news, but because of his blatantly hostile attitude toward her. It was hard to believe that he was the same person who greeted her there on her last visit. His warmth and benevolence, apparently, were nothing but calculated flattery.
“Here are all the data,” the manager handed her some documents.
With feigned indifference, she let her eyes roam over the indecipherable columns of numbers, her voice remaining stable. She was determined not to lose this battle with her husband’s so-called friends. “You will hear from my lawyer, Mr. Weinberg, and then you will realize the mistake you have made. And let me assure you that you will not have my business,” she added, leaving without shaking his hand.
In the next couple of days, Adi Solomon, Talia’s new lawyer, traced all of Uzzi’s past movements. Adi earned every penny of his handsome retainer. He uncovered Uzzi’s scam: surreptitiously, like a thief in the night, Uzzi had opened a new company, adding the word “Engines” to the name “Harno’a,” pouring into the new company all the assets that he drained from the old company, thereby causing it to go bankrupt.
“Did you know about Uzzi’s stratagems? Adi has just found out about his hijacking of the company.” Talia asked Larry, her voice trembling with indignation.
“Yes, and there’s more. Uzzi stole your stock in “Poran,” the cottages construction company. He forged a power-of-attorney, then extended him very generous credit. Needless to say, he did not report that the construction company was included in the estate inventory.”
“Why did you keep mum about this? Why didn’t you do something?” “You told me that his wife was very sick and, as you know, I take everything that you say very seriously.”
“Well, now I want my stocks and an indictment for everything that Uzzi did at ‘Hamo’a’ and ‘Poran’.”
“Okay, I’ll arraign him. He will be charged, he’ll get a big fine and at least six months of community service. Not to mention the exposure in the media.”
In the middle of the night, unfamiliar voices threatened her on the phone. “You’ll find yourself cast in cement. Samuel Goldberg never forgives and forgets.” On sleepless nights, she noticed a figure with Palladium sneakers prowling silently around her house, and her heart froze in terror. Talia decided to brush aside the memory of the shameful episode at the Geneva airport, and Larry too, seemed to have forgotten her triumph over him; he willingly agreed to provide police surveillance on the house and to trace phone calls. His admiration for her was blatant and annoying, she told herself, but at least she could reap some benefit from it. She had long resolved to use all the advantages at her disposal without reservation. And Larry sometimes...
Only now did she understand how absurd and groundless were Goldberg’s accusations. “They claim that Jonathan’s been manipulating stocks, but that’s pure bull!” Adi explained to her, in his typically picturesque language (that she hoped he would abandon on occasions requiring more professional style). “Even technically, it couldn’t be considered a felony. No way, Jose. When Jonathan bought the stocks of “Alaska,” everybody followed him, like sheep. So the stocks soared like a missile, because if Jonathan buys something, it must be worthwhile. But the truth was that Jonathan bought those stocks for sort of sentimental reasons, he had a soft spot textile, because he was his mother’s son, you know, but also because he was a genius with the instincts of a bloodhound. So he sold the stocks at the right time. Not that he knew that the company was on the verge of collapse, mind you, nobody knew that, but those that did not sell their stocks at the time, blamed Jonathan for their losses. Particularly Goldberg, Mody and Uzzi.
Talia was not afraid of old Goldberg. Since their surrealistic encounter in London, she had harbored a sneaking respect for the old man; it was for his son, Samuel, that she felt the deepest mistrust. Her attitude did not change even when Samuel called her unexpectedly and hold her his tale of woe concerning his divorce form Linda. A short while afterward, at a concert of the Israeli Philharmonic Orchestra, Samuel approached her, his bulldog face grinning, exposing his enormous teeth, a spitting image of his father, and embraced her publicly. You could hear the shocked reaction rippling through the snobbish crowd of first series subscribers., huddling by the coffee counter. Ditty nudged her and whispered, “Check the weekend gossip columns.” And Talia said, “Can you believe him? He promised to impoverish us and dispossess us of all our assets, me and my children, everything except the clothes on our backs. And he meant it, too. But he doesn’t scare me. I have no intention of surrendering.”
I’ve already seen this movie, Talia thought, as she entered Goldberg’s office at America house. For you, mister, Act Two will be even less profitable than Act One, she reassured herself.
The invitation came by phone a week after her encounter with Samuel in the lobby of Mann Auditorium. “You see, Ditty, I was right," she told her friend, “maybe I reminded him of something?”
“I doubt it. Micah always says that the Goldbergs never forget anything. Are you worried”
“No, but I wish all this were behind me.”
This time Goldberg appeared less menacing than on their previous encounter. He was seated behind a huge mahogany desk, his normally cold eyes twinkled with what could have been construed as curiosity tinged with warmth. She had never told anybody what had transpired between them at the end of their last meeting; the thought of the “memorandum” she had initiated dispelled some of the fear that permeated her heart—but not all. Her senses hold her that the elegant compromise reached then could not be counted on. Her foes and adversaries—c
hief among them the son, Samuel— had been constantly poisoning the old man’ ear with detraction and slander doing their best to besmirch her.
She sat down in the visitor’s chair, which was much lower than Goldberg’s chair, straightened her back and closed her eyes for a moment. Her legs started trembling uncontrollably. She grabbed her briefcase tightly and thought: perhaps I’m being photographed. Perhaps I’m being taped like the previous time. If the Goldbergs only knew that, instead of documents, I’m carrying new notebooks and video cassettes that I bought for the kids!”
The thought of her children gave her courage. But even when her fears were somewhat allayed, she could still feel sharp pangs in her heart at the thought of the office next door. It was Jonathan’s office now occupied by Samuel. She sensed its presence behind the locked door, sending its tentacles, threatening to suck her in. She was amazed by the intensity of the simultaneous attraction and repulsion that was almost like a physical sensation. An irresistible urge seized her to visit once again the room where they’d sat together for the first time, but she dared not peek behind the door, afraid she might see the changes that she assumed had been made there. She was also deterred by the thought of Jonathan’s secretary, Ora, staring at her. Ditty had told her that Samuel continued to employ Ora at her old job. Who knows, she may have joined the band of traitors. Perhaps she had betrayed him while he was still alive?
Talia wondered what old Goldberg wanted from her. What did all the others want from her—her enemies, that pack of devils, that bunch of ruffians, who had huddled together at Jonathan’s funeral. They were doubtless united by one wish: to dispossess her, to deprive her of her assets. A few of them had already been foiled in their attempts, but they didn’t give up; they tried to embroil her in legal suits, suborning clients of her construction companies to bring charges against her for physical or financial damages supposedly incurred on the building sites. Was Samuel Goldberg involved I all that? Why did he hate her so much? Why did other former friends hate her and not believe her when she insisted that she knew nothing of her husband’s business? Didn’t they know her? At times it seemed that Jonathan’s old friends had suspended all their mutual hatreds and squabbles and all their other causes in order to form a united front against her, Jonathan’s widow, at any cost.
“The stock of ‘America Merchandise,’ you must know that it belongs to me,” Goldberg’s thick voice woke her from her reverie. “Seven million dollars, that’s what you owe me!”