Afterward, the three of us regroup in the hallway. Jian looks pissed, but only at himself. "My answer to the technical question was insufficiently rigorous," he mutters, eyes fixed on his shoes. "I should have referenced the Föllmer paper."
"You were great," Maddy says, clapping him on the shoulder. "Everyone in there is just mad we didn't let them pick it apart first."
I want to agree, but I'm too busy replaying the pitch in my head, trying to recall every word I stumbled over. We're standing in a cluster of tension and cold sweat when a man in an ordinary suit sidles up to us. He's so plain I almost don't notice him. "I liked your answer," he says, accent sharp and unplaceable. "Especially the part about keeping the best parts secret."
I blink. "Thanks. Are you a judge?"
He shakes his head. "I'm just here to see what's next." He produces a business card from thin air and presses it into my palm. "We like under-the-radar companies. I think you'll find we're even more under-the-radar than you."
I look at the card. Hebrew characters, then: Elad Shalev, IVC Partners, Tel Aviv, Palo Alto. Before I can say anything, he's gone. We stare after him for a second, then Maddy snatches the card from my hand. "You think he's Mossad?"
Jian shakes his head, finally smiling. "Definitely not.