The Luck of Valentino

Some three weeks after our conference with Keren, Hannah and I marched over to our dilapidated court building. Boaz looked well and at ease. In contrast, Omri Tal, who was sitting next to him, appeared nervous, even apprehensive. He was talking in undertone with the singularly attractive girl, who was doing her best to calm him down. “Glad to see everybody’s on deck,” said Baruch Shoham, having responded graciously when all of us rose to our feet and bowed as he entered the court room from his chambers. Unlike the attorneys, who continued to wear gowns, the judge’s formal attire comprised a black silk jacket, a white shirt with a stiff collar and a sober tie. ...

As soon as the judge left the Courtroom, Boaz departed in the company of Omri and his attractive fiancée. Hannah left in a hurry, mumbling she had to report to Ruth Schwartz. Fearing David Mizrachi’s eatery would be crowded, I crossed the road to a nearby sandwiches and coffee bar. Munching away, I started to soliloquise about the events of the morning and about the legal fraternity. My years with Jacob Keren’s firm convinced me that law and drama coincided mainly in films and in poorly written books. Undoubtedly, every trial had had its tense and often unpredictable moment. But I had never seen a witness crumbling in the box and coming up with a tearful confession. Most trials were less momentous than the Omri Tal case. Victory was secured by careful preparation, sound tactics and skilful arguments. On many occasions the final result was dictated by sheer luck. ...

At 2.45 p.m., Hannah, Boaz and myself rose as Baruch Shoham took his place at the head of the conference table in his chambers. “Well,” he said benignly, “I hope everybody had a pleasant lunch?” “Thank you, Judge,” Hannah assured him on behalf of all present. “And have you had any discussion about a suitable figure?” “We are still rather apart, Judge,” volunteered Hannah. “I believe both parties would like to have your view on the matter.” ...

Eager to make her report to Ruth Schwartz, Hannah left straightaway. Boaz and I spent some time drafting the settlement document and then walked back together, wadding our way through the thin, aggravating, drizzle. As if by agreement, we dropped into David Mizrachi’s eatery. Lunch time was long over but both of us felt the need for a cup of his strong brewed aromatic coffee. “What was that odd crack about Shalom Cohen?” I asked as I wiped the raindrops off my face. “I didn’t know Hannah and Omri had common friends?” ...

“Well Eli,” said Boaz after a short lull. “This is a good a time to bring up a point I wanted to raise with you for a while. As you say: Keren’s firm isn’t paradise; ditto for Israel Silver’s outfit. Why don’t we make ourselves independent?” “Start a new practice? There are some two hundred law firms in Tel Aviv?” “Even so, don’t you think we can make it? We had good training; and we’ve worked well together as a team in law school!” ...