Chapter 46

“This ink is red,” scowled Fischer. He had a pained look on his face. The CEO was meeting with Jurevicius and NewGarden’s Investor Relations Director, Joli Nathan, to plan for the annual meeting that was now only three weeks away. He had just seen the printer’s dummy for the new annual report for the first time.

“It’s not really red. It’s orange,” Joli insisted, her face turning a definite shade of red due to the stress of the argument, which had been going on for some time now. An experienced professional in her late 30s, she had been at NewGarden for four years and felt a bit proprietary about the annual report. She was willing to acknowledge the CEO’s expertise in matters of science, and his authority when it came to business. But he had no formal training in design; that was her specialty and he ought to listen to her, she felt.

“Orange, my ass!” fumed Fischer. “Do you think I don’t know the difference between red and orange? Is there anybody who doesn’t know? It’s not a matter of opinion.”

Joli was starting to hyperventilate. “The graphic designer says it’s orange,” she panted.

“You mean that gangly freak with the weird glasses and hair goop?”

Offended, she supplied the name: “That’s Ted. Ted Manson. He did our report last year too.”

“The origami Rubik’s Cube that nobody could figure out how to put back together?”

“It won all kinds of design awards.”

“The board hated it. And they’re going to hate this one too. You never use red ink in a financial report. It has extremely negative connotations: You know, red ink. Losing money. Bad business. In the red. Bleeding red ink. Everybody knows this. I can’t believe we’re using red on the cover of this report!”

Jurevicius finally entered the conversation. “It’s a moot point, Manny. The report is already printed. It’d cost us, how much …?” He looked at Joli and she supplied the missing number: $25,000.

“It’d cost us 25,000 bucks to pull it now,” Jurevicius resumed. “Maybe 30,000. And we’d miss our mailing deadline. That’d put us out of compliance, unless we postpone the meeting, which we simply cannot do.”

Joli looked at Jurevicius with gratitude, though she wondered why he’d waited so long to come to her rescue.

“How did this happen?” Fischer grimaced.

“I approved it, Manny,” Jurevicius replied tersely. “Maybe it’s because I’m European; our semiotics are … different than yours. We are not afraid to use red. It is a bold color. It has a wide range of associations besides losing money.”

“Such as?”

“Everything from Bauhaus to Louis Quatorze. The Duke of Wellington’s jacket and the fabulous reds of Burgundy …”

“Don’t forget Stalin’s Red Army and the color of blood,” Fischer interrupted angrily.

“Manny, Manny. That’s a cheap shot. Nobody really notices these things. Nobody really cares. They’ll look at the financials, not the cover.”

“And those aren’t great, either,” Fischer continued. “I wanted to take a lower profile in this report. Yet you’ve splashed my picture all over the place. My face takes up an entire page.”

“You’re the founder, Manny. You’re the CEO.”

Fischer turned beet red. “Serge, you know damn well you and your investors are calling the shots and you have been for the last …”

“Manny, do we have to do this in front of Joli?” Jurevicius asked in a coldly formal tone. Joli glanced over to see if he wanted her to leave, but a discreet signal from Jurevicius told her to stay.

“I don’t care who hears,” said Fischer. He was screaming now at full volume. “It should be public information. I may be the CEO, but your group’s running the show here. You should take accountability for the results. Look at the Letter to Shareholders. Nothing about medical research. Not a damn thing. It’s all about Ag. But I’ve made a commitment …”

—“Ag pays the bills. As you well know.”

“Well when I speak at the meeting I’m talking about medical …”

—“It’s irrelevant and it confuses the shareholders …”

“Dammit, I made a commitment!”

“… and upsets our institutional investors.”

“Serge, I promised.”

Jurevicius eyed him coldly. “Things have changed since then. My backers won’t permit it. End of story.” He turned to Joli, indicating that all of Fischer’s issues had been addressed—and dismissed. “You should know that there may be protesters again. Security will be in place if needed, so you can focus all your attention on the meeting.”

She nodded. His confidence was contagious. Everything would be handled.

Jurevicius regarded the brooding Fischer and smiled broadly. “Cheer up, Manny. You’ll be happy to know my backers have authorized French champagne. A special bottling with our logo etched in the glass. And there’ll be other surprises, too. It should be a memorable meeting.”