“This is Jakob Brodsky,” he said, slightly out of breath. “How may I help you?”
“I’m calling to help you, Mr. Brodsky,” a perky female voice replied. “I was looking at your firm website, and we can take it to the next level. Are you in a position to take on more clients?”
“Yes, but not more overhead expense,” Jakob replied, sitting down in the leather chair behind his desk.
“A detailed website analysis by our firm won’t cost you anything,” the woman responded quickly. “Aren’t you interested in learning how to increase your internet marketing footprint for pennies a month?”
“How many pennies?”
“Fewer than you think. We’ve worked with other Atlanta-area law firms that have increased monthly contacts by fifty to sixty percent. And we guarantee our results. How often do you hear the word ‘guarantee’ from a marketing firm?”
“Not often.” Jakob felt himself being drawn in like a fish on a lure. Guaranteed results might let him avoid flushing precious dollars down a marketing black hole. Competition for new business was intense, and any edge was worth exploring.
“One of our sales representatives is going to be in your area on Wednesday afternoon and would love to meet with you,” the woman continued confidently. “He’ll bring a free gift that I’m sure you’ll find—”
The other phone line to Jakob’s office blinked, signaling a new call.
“Gotta go,” Jakob said as he swam away from the hook. Hoping it wasn’t someone else wanting to sell him something, he pressed the button to accept the new call.
“Mr. Brodsky?” asked a female voice.
“Yes.”
“This is Amanda Brooks with Brookstone Adjusting Services. You’ve been talking with Natalie Fletchall in our office about the Harrison case.”
Jakob sat up straighter. It was the case he’d hoped would generate the fee he could use to fund his share of the costs in the Neumann litigation. Mr. Harrison had been defrauded by a disability insurance company after an agent forged Harrison’s initials on a medical questionnaire.
“Yes,” he said. “I sent a demand of eighty thousand dollars to Natalie in an email last week along with a copy of the complaint I’ll file in Fulton County Superior Court if we can’t reach a settlement. That’s as low as I can go to get this case resolved prior to litigation.”
“We have a deal. The insurance company wants to put this claim in the rearview mirror. You’ll have our standard release in your in-box within the hour. Once we receive a signed copy of the release, we’ll overnight the check, payable to you and your client.”
Jakob called to give his client the good news, then unsuccessfully tried to reach Ben Neumann. He left Ben a succinct voice mail: “Good news. Call me.”
Hana brushed her teeth to avoid sharing the pungent garlic in the labneh dip and the spices in the makanek with her coworkers. She then worked on legal documents written in Hebrew and sent them to a client in Ra’anana. Just as she was about to take a break there was a knock on her door. She answered in Hebrew before correcting herself. Mr. Collins entered. The bald, overweight lawyer in his midsixties rarely came to her office.
“Sorry,” Hana began. “I’ve been going back and forth between English and Hebrew.”
“Which is a good thing for the law firm. You said, ‘Yes, please.’ Correct?”
“That’s right.”
Mr. Collins closed the door and sat down in the single chair across from Hana’s desk.
“Did you think of something else I should have included in the Jezreel Software agreement?” she asked. “I sent the revised contract to the management team in Israel a few minutes ago. It’s not too late to make changes—”
“No, I wanted to talk to you about your meeting this morning with Leon.”
Jim Collins was more turtle than rabbit, and Hana knew it might take him awhile to get to the point of his visit.
“Did he ask you to research Jakob Brodsky’s background and experience?” the senior partner asked.
“No, but he mentioned that he might have some follow-up questions later.”
“And you watched the surveillance tape of the terrorist attack in Jerusalem?”
“At first I said no to watching it and then changed my mind.”
“Why is that?”
Hana thought the answer should be obvious. “A woman was stabbed to death, and her little girl’s face slashed with a knife. The young Arab man who did it was shot and killed. It wasn’t something I wanted to see or have as a memory.”
“Leon didn’t give you a heads-up about the meeting?”
“Heads-up?”
“Inform you in advance.”
“No, but he apologized and told me I was a last-minute addition after Mr. Brodsky arrived at the office.”
Hana felt uneasy. It seemed Mr. Collins was accumulating information to oppose his colleague in the partners’ meeting.
“What else did Leon say to you about the case?”
“He mentioned the challenges that existed to finding a solvent defendant who could pay monetary damages, and that it would be up to the equity partners to decide whether the law firm became involved.”
Mr. Collins nodded and then looked Hana directly in the eyes. “If you had a vote, would you be in favor or opposed?”
“Mr. Collins,” Hana protested. “It isn’t my place—”
“It is if I ask you a direct question.” The senior partner spoke more emphatically than normal. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing. You’re an Arab and a citizen of Israel. You have a perspective on this none of the other lawyers in the firm can share. I came to see you because I want to know what you think.”
Images of Gloria Neumann falling to the ground and Abdul Zadan crumpling on top of her flashed through Hana’s mind. “I’d vote no,” Hana answered.
“Why?”
Hana was tempted to use the difficulty of finding a defendant with money as her primary reason, but she knew that wasn’t true. “In Israel, we always talk about not letting the violence that surrounds us keep us from living normal lives,” she said. “I didn’t move to Atlanta to try to escape that world, but I thought I would leave it behind while working here. That’s the best answer I can give.”
Jim Collins was silent for a moment and then stood up. “Thanks, I respect your perspective,” he said, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.
Hana took a deep breath. For several moments, she stared out her window. However, she didn’t see the normal skyline view of modern buildings against a clear blue sky. Instead, in her mind’s eye she traveled from north Atlanta to Hurva Square in Jerusalem.
CHAPTER 5
Jakob stepped into the hallway outside his office for a drink from the water fountain as Butch Watson, one of the other lawyers in the building, trudged up the stairs with a heavy catalog case in his hands. Butch was building a trusts and estates practice, and he often met with clients at the office of their financial planner or stockbroker.
“Why didn’t you take the elevator?” Jakob asked, pointing at the heavy case.
“I promised my wife I’d begin walking more,” replied the broad-shouldered young lawyer. “I’ve gained more weight since we found out she was pregnant with the twins than she has.”
“When are they due?”
“Three weeks,” Butch said as he reached the top of the steps. “And I’m hoping the boys can play offensive line like I did and get a free ride through college.”
Butch’s extra pounds hung on a physique that still remembered when he could bench-press 450 pounds. Occasionally, Jakob and Butch went to a sports bar for a beer. Jakob never bet against Butch if someone challenged him to an arm-wrestling match.
Jakob pointed to the catalog case. “Good client?”
Butch’s face lit up with a broad smile. “Yes. And not just one. I met with a stockbroker who played against me when I was in college. Luckily, we hit it off better today than when we butted heads ten years ago. I’d f
orgotten the details of the game, but he remembered I received a personal foul penalty for grabbing his face mask and trying to separate his skull from his neck. He laughed about it because his team won the game. He’s promised to start steering as many clients as he can my way.”
“Awesome.”
“How about you? Any progress in finding a moneybags cocounsel for your antiterrorism case?”
“I just had my best meeting yet.” Jakob summarized his conversation with Leon Lowenstein.
“You’re the big-risk, big-reward guy who tosses the fifty-yard pass downfield into double coverage,” Butch responded. “I’m more three yards and a cloud of dust. I wish I could buy in for a tiny piece of the action, but I’m tapped out getting ready for the boys to arrive.”
Jakob remembered his conversation with Mr. Lowenstein, who held a much stricter view of cocounsel relationships than the frat-house camaraderie of the lawyers who shared space with Jakob in the modest office building.
“It’s the thought that counts,” he replied.
“No, it isn’t,” Butch grunted as he continued toward his office. “I’ve got to see if these stubby fingers can still crank out sixty words a minute on a set of trust documents.”
Ten minutes later, Maddie buzzed Jakob. “Mr. Ben Neumann and a beautiful young lady are here to see you. He says he doesn’t have an appointment—”
“It’s okay. Send them up.”
Ascending the stairs were Ben and Sadie Neumann. Sadie was wearing her school uniform: white blouse, sky blue jumper, and dark blue Mary Jane shoes. Her black hair was in a ponytail that flopped on top of a small orange backpack. Her father wore a nicely tailored suit. Random strands of gray were sprinkled throughout his dark hair.
“I received your message while on my way to take Sadie to a therapy appointment,” Ben said. “We have to pass by here on the way.”
“Perfect timing,” Jakob answered. “Come in.”
Jakob’s office was spacious, with top-quality furniture that had been selected by an interior decorator. He had a large wooden desk with a leather inlay top and several leather chairs.
Sadie picked out a burgundy chair in one corner of the room and climbed into it. Her feet dangled a couple of inches above the floor.
Ben took a tablet from the little girl’s backpack. She plugged in earbuds, and in a few seconds her eyes were glued to the tablet screen.
“And she won’t listen to us?” Jakob asked.
Ben smiled. “You don’t have kids yet, do you?”
“No.”
“They have no problem leaving the real world for an imaginary one, especially when they have an electronic device to take them there.”
Jakob sat down behind his desk. “I had a productive meeting earlier today with Leon Lowenstein,” he began. “Thanks for making that connection. His firm is interested in joining the case as cocounsel.”
“Really?” Ben sat up straighter.
“He watched the video and agrees that you and Sadie deserve representation.” Jakob explained the process that included Mr. Lowenstein’s presenting the case to the law firm’s equity partners.
Ben frowned. “That doesn’t sound so good.”
“But we have a chance,” Jakob said optimistically. “However, there’s a second precondition to moving forward. You and I have to commit to deposit forty thousand dollars into their trust account toward out-of-pocket costs for the case. I’m willing to pay twenty thousand if you can come up with an equal amount. I believe that much in the case.”
Jakob waited for Ben to respond. Instead, the client glanced over at Sadie, who remained focused on the tablet.
“You know how much I want to pursue this,” Ben said. “And I appreciate more than I can say what you’re willing to do, but that’s a lot of cash to come up with all at once. I have some money left over from the life insurance, but it’s going to be awhile before I can build up my savings. Gloria always kept a tight lid on our family finances. I’m more impulsive. Over the past couple of years, I’ve spent every penny trying to make Sadie’s world as happy as possible.”
Jakob was relieved that his client hadn’t totally depleted the insurance money. “What should I tell Mr. Lowenstein?” he asked.
“I’d been thinking the firm you brought in as cocounsel would be able to fund the case,” Ben answered, avoiding the question.
“That was our goal, but it hasn’t worked out that way,” Jakob admitted. “Mr. Lowenstein is going to recommend to his partners that they put in an additional $250,000 to fund the litigation. That should cover the cost of experts, investigators, depositions, and travel to other parts of the world. Anyone named as a defendant is going to fight as hard as possible because if they pay us, they might have to pay other terror victims and their families.” This was territory Jakob had covered with Ben in the past, but it seemed right to revisit it. “One rule of litigation is that it always takes more time and costs more money than you think. And in addition to the funds to finance the claim, Mr. Lowenstein has multiple lawyers at his firm who will assist me.”
“What will you do?” Ben asked.
“I’ll be in the middle of everything as the main attorney,” Jakob answered confidently.
“Be patient with me,” Ben said after a few moments of silence passed. “It’s a big decision, and I need to think this through.”
“Daddy,” a little girl’s voice said, “I need to go potty.” Sadie hopped down from the chair and took out the earbuds.
“It’s down the hall near the elevator,” Jakob said. “The code for the door is 1-2-3.”
A spirit of heaviness descended on Hana for the rest of the afternoon. Her words to Jim Collins about the terrorist attack in Jerusalem revealed as much to her as they had to the firm’s senior partner. She hadn’t considered the move to the United States an escape. In her mind, it was simply a chance to work in a new environment where she could hone her legal skills and proficiency in the English language. Now she had to rethink her motives and uncover hidden places in her soul.
Finding it difficult to concentrate on work, Hana was glad when she received a positive answer from the Jezreel leadership team to the changes she’d suggested in the agreement. She forwarded the information to Mr. Collins. After sending the email, she went downstairs to a coffee shop on the first floor of their building. The people on the sidewalk in front of the plate-glass window and sitting next to her sipping lattes didn’t live under a constant threat of imminent harm. There was a bus stop twenty feet down the street that had no concrete barricades protecting it from a jihadist intent on driving a car or truck into the people waiting for public transportation. If Hana looked up and down the street, she wouldn’t see any border patrol soldiers or police armed with machine guns. No metal detectors manned by security guards were set up at all the entrances to the high-end shopping mall across the street.
At the end of the day, Hana came up two and a half hours short of the billing quota needed to meet the benchmarks established by the law firm.
“See you tomorrow,” she said to Janet when she left the office.
“Have a good evening. You were awfully quiet after Mr. Collins dropped in. Is everything okay?”
“How did you know I was quiet?”
Janet pointed to her computer. “You send me a copy of your billable time when it’s forwarded to the accounting department.”
“Yes, I’m okay,” Hana said, then shook her head. “I didn’t meet my goal.”
“Did it have anything to do with the meeting you had with Mr. Lowenstein this morning? We joked about pirates, but it must have been something else. Gladys says Mr. Lowenstein kept her out of the loop, which almost never happens. And then Mr. Collins shows up asking if you’re in your office. You’re not in hot water, are you?”
“You mean in trouble?”
“Right.”
“No, I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Good,” Janet said with relief. “I feel responsible for protecting you.�
�
Hana had been trained in Krav Maga, the hand-to-hand self-defense technique used by the Israeli army. A would-be mugger on the streets of Atlanta would likely end up with a broken arm or dislocated shoulder if he attacked her. But Hana knew that wasn’t the kind of protection Janet had in mind.
“That’s very kind, and I really appreciate it,” Hana said gratefully. “But I’m doing okay. Don’t stay too late yourself.”
“I was approved for a couple of hours of overtime and need the money. The bill for my teenage son’s car insurance is due this month, and I agreed to pay half if he handles the rest.”
It was a fifteen-minute drive from the office to Hana’s home at the end of a quiet residential street in an older neighborhood. The tiny house was built decades earlier as a mother-in-law residence by a couple who themselves had long since died. The residence came fully furnished. The interior consisted of an open area that served as the living and dining room, with a compact but fully equipped kitchen and a spacious bedroom with an en suite bathroom. Most of the furniture pieces were genuine antiques or high-quality reproductions.
The house was radically different from the massive home where Hana grew up in Reineh. In Arab families, the additions caused by marriage and children simply meant adding rooms and floors onto an existing structure. When she was a child, Hana occupied a house with her mother, father, two brothers, one set of grandparents, a great-aunt, and two uncles and aunts and their eight children. It was a rowdy, roiling chaos.
The quiet solitude of the Atlanta house was a jolt she’d learned to love. She especially liked summer evenings when crickets that didn’t realize they were surrounded by millions of people called to one another at dusk. The windows in the living area were screened and Hana, who didn’t mind warm weather, would turn off the air conditioner, open the four windows, and listen to the sounds of the night.
She parked her car beneath a maple tree that exploded with vibrant red leaves in autumn. The first fall Hana spent in the house, she sent photos of the changing leaves to her family every few days. One of her nephews called it the “candy tree.”
Chosen People Page 4
