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“Did you get that job you wanted?”
He shook his head.
“What? Why not?” He almost smiled at the indignation in her voice.
“Because I wouldn’t sign the due diligence report. Yogev didn’t like that he couldn’t deliver what he promised to Motti. He told me to withdraw my candidacy–and suggested I look for a new job. I gave up on my team leader position when I ran for the Tractus job.”
“I’m sorry.” Dafna raised her palm and cupped his cheek. “It’s my fault.”
“It was my choice,” he said, careful not to give in to his bitterness. It was his choice. Even if they had exposed Kisharti, Yogev might have still resented him for embarrassing his future in-law. The Tractus position was a shiny prize to lure him away from the real estate team's leading position. He had sealed his fate the minute he walked into Yogev’s office and threatened to quit G&L.
“Guys,” Eitan said, “are you going to let these jerks go on scot-free?”
“Yes, let’s do something about it,” Dafna said.
He took a deep breath of the sea breeze and tilted his face to the new sun. A lightheartedness seized him. He had Dafna on his side, and his brother. All would be well.
“Dafna, are the real books around at all? If we get to them, then it will be much easier to prove.”
“Yes. Nurit knows where the real books are. They’re at Kisharti’s in Menni’s office.”
“We break into the offices, get the books, and…” Eitan left the sentence unfinished.
“And I’ll take it from there,” Dafna said. “Fuck Motti.” Both Eitan and he smiled at the profanity leaving those aristocratic lips. “I was in touch with a fund to invest in Kisharti.”
“The building is closed and guarded outside business hours. How are we going to get to the books?” Eitan asked.
“And the offices will have people during the workday,” Erez said, “but…there’s a piano in the lobby.” A plan, a farfetched but a possible one formed itself in his mind.
“A piano?” Dafna asked. Eitan clapped his hands.
“Go ahead, bro. I like it when you get this look on your face.”
Chapter 43
The GTN Directory
Gal cleared her throat. She tapped on the microphone and hopped back when it made screeching noises. Hiding and listening with all her might, Dafna prayed that Gal’s nerves wouldn’t screw up their entire plan. Each participant needed to carry out their part perfectly, but it all hinged on Gal’s ability to perform and create a diversion in the lobby attractive enough for Menni to leave his office and for them to break in.
Nurit and she sneaked into this corridor from the parking lot through the stairs, and now stood, hidden in its darkness. Since they were both suspended, their presence here had to remain a secret. Nurit’s dark skin was pale, and her lips were drawn inwards in a perpetual ‘holding her breath’ move. Her own sweat dampened her armpits and gathered at her brow, and she jumped nervously when Gal cleared her throat. The choir behind her quieted. It was a bunch of kids from her workshop, who followed Gal enthusiastically to this impromptu gig without asking too many questions, just happy to get a chance to perform live in front of an audience. Even if it was only in the lobby of an office building for an incidental crowd of high-tech workers.
The piano warmed up, the player getting acquainted with the instrument. The pianist, a handsome young man, much older than Gal and her friends, didn’t come alone–he came with a flock of dancers.
This was Erez’s and Eitan’s handiwork.
Eitan had argued that with all due respect, opera wasn’t enough. People would get bored and walk away. Dancing was required. Surprisingly enough, Erez came up with a solution. He’d contacted a client of his, Rammy, that had a son who studied ballet. Baruch, Rammy’s son's partner, played the piano, while Dan, Rammy’s son, and his dancer friends fanned themselves around the lobby, ready to clap and cheer Gal’s first number. Later on, they would dance.
Menni and I are on our way to the gallery, Daniel texted her.
This was her handiwork.
She went to Daniel’s home and showed him the emails she’d sent to Kisharti clients, the responses including those that claimed that they were no longer paying clients. She explained Erez’s part and added her suspicions that Motti was in on it from the start.
Daniel believed her. She asked him to get the real books. He wouldn’t risk it, afraid to confront Menni alone, but he agreed to become an active part of their plan. His part was to lure Menni to the lobby to watch the performance.
The piano thrummed out the famous introduction to the Habanera–Carmen’s opening aria, and Dafna held her breath, waiting for the singing. None came. The pianist faltered, stopped, the piano’s echoes petering down. Dead stillness reigned. She risked another peek at the stage: Gal stood, her chest heaving, her mouth opening and closing, staring at the crowd. Moments, that felt as long as hours, passed. The crowd murmured and whispered, then started to disperse, people slowly peeling away, busy workers returning to their pursuits.
Her heart, already racing, picked up its rate. They would never get to break into the offices like that. Nurit moaned in despair next to her. If Menni and Daniel arrived and there was no show, then they would immediately return and they would miss their chance to reach Menni’s office undetected.
