“We can deliver space to you in nineteen months, max. It’ll be the best space in suburban Minneapolis, at the best rental rate. USNet’s lease will let us fund our construction loan and get started on the project, so I promise you that the rental rate is going to knock your socks off.”
Todd finished an email note and pushed Send. “Uh, great. But the folks across the street say the same. And they’re a couple of months ahead of you.”
“Fine. But you need to check their permit situation. We hear they have problems, and you should compare the offers. I’m sure we’ll be less expensive.”
“I hope so. David Sawyer is really focused. He wants to visit our Chicago projects on Wednesday morning, shoot up to Minneapolis that afternoon, and have dinner with you and Gillespie. We’ll spend the night and see the other project in the morning. How does that sound?”
“Except for imagining you in that other project, it should be fine.”
“Can you meet us at the airport on Wednesday afternoon?”
“Sure. And listen, Todd, while you’re here, we’ll talk about how to simplify this decision.”
Todd swiveled around to the window. “What do you mean?”
“We’ll discuss it when you’re here on Wednesday.”
“OK. See you then.”
“Can’t wait.”
4
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH
Two days later, well before dawn on Wednesday, David finished his second cup of coffee, wrote a note on their kitchen pad, and left it by the percolator.
Hope you have a great couple of days. Let’s go to dinner when I get back tomorrow night.
I may be going to LA soon. Will try to see Callie.
I love you.
D
A few hours later, as he and Todd Phelps walked past baggage claim at O’Hare airport, David checked his handheld and noticed that there was an urgent message to call Kristen.
He and Todd shook hands with their two Chicago hosts for the morning, and then he apologized that he had to call the office. As they walked toward the car David speed-dialed Kristen’s number.
“David, hey. Our online news this morning is reporting that the Chinese government has just instituted sweeping changes in Hong Kong.”
“Like what?” David asked, cradling the mobile phone on his left shoulder.
“Like a declaration that Hong Kong is now to be integrated completely into the mainland economy, that the ‘great experiment’ is over. Private ownership is to be phased out in the province.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish. It’s all still sketchy, but one of the first bullet points is confiscation of all large land parcels and major buildings, and a tripling of real estate taxes.”
“Not good, to say the least.”
“But, David, do you realize that if Knox hadn’t changed his mind last week, as of yesterday we would have been locked into a long-term lease for a ton of space in a nationalized building?”
Sawyer paused, shifting the phone as he changed hands with his bag. Todd and their hosts, who were deep in conversation about their Chicago visit, walked ahead.
“Sometimes the man is uncanny.”
“I guess. Anyway, hopefully we have a leg up on moving to Seoul and Singapore. I imagine that a lot of companies will be bailing out of Hong Kong, too.”
“Yes. When do you plan to go out?”
“Next week, once you tell me how high I can go on Capital Tower with Porter, so we can nail down a Letter of Intent.”
“We need that building. Offer full price, and we’ll agree to a thirty-day due diligence period. That ought to get it for us.”
“Will do. I’ll call Porter this morning and give him our standard letter at the asking price. Good luck in Chicago and Minneapolis.”
“OK. Say hello to Porter for me.”
He hung up, turning his attention once again to Todd and their Chicago hosts.
Later that night in Minneapolis, the two USNet real estate executives walked out of a French restaurant with Mike Campbell and Frank Gillespie, the developers of Brookglen. They had toured the site that afternoon. Over a superb dinner they had discussed rental rates and delivery dates. Because the two USNet visitors were going to see a competing project in the morning, nothing was settled, but the discussion was productive. And David made it clear that going forward, Todd Phelps would be the point man for USNet’s decision-making process.
As they walked toward the two hosts’ cars, Frank Gillespie said to David, “I’ll drive you to your hotel. Let’s let these two young guys relive their business school days.”
“Fine by me,” David acknowledged. Turning to Todd and smiling, he said, “Just remember we’re starting early, so be bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning.”
“Of course,” Todd agreed, as he and his friend opened the doors to Campbell’s new Audi.
As Todd admired the interior, Campbell backed out and headed for Cabaret, a late-night watering hole for the single and affluent. Even though Todd had a wife and two young children, he looked forward to a few hours with his friend, and to checking out the local ladies. He had been unfaithful to his wife on three occasions, although he had never planned any of the events. They just “happened” while he was traveling. And everyone else did it, Todd imagined. It occurred to him that maybe tonight something unplanned might happen again, and he smiled.
As they drove downtown, they talked about where their friends from graduate school had landed. Mike seemed to keep up with everyone. It sounded to Todd as if most of his former classmates were making a lot more money, which he decided to file away and mention to Sawyer.
After recounting the high incomes of several of their friends on Wall Street, Mike said, “We have a plan that could help you in that department, Todd.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we’ve allocated a significant sum in our Brookglen development budget for financing fees. Since securing the USNet lease will reduce our loan interest, that’s worth a lot of money. We’d reward anyone who helped us with our financing.”
“I’m still not sure what you have in mind.”
Mike glanced over at his friend and then back to the road. “I mean, Todd, that we’ve budgeted $250,000 for you if we can enter into the USNet lease in the next sixty days.”
“For me?”
“Yes. Cash, check or money order. Where and how you want. I recommend a suitcase full of cash or a deposit in a Channel Islands bank. And of course neither USNet nor the IRS ever needs to know, so you can keep it all.”
There was silence for a moment as Mike’s proposal sank in. They exited the interstate and stopped at a red light. Mike added, “And it’s not like you’re doing anything wrong. Ours really is the best development on the west side of Minneapolis. We’re just facilitating a decision that you would make anyway. It truly is a well-earned financing fee.”
“And no one will know?”
“No one, my friend. It’s all yours.”
“When?”
“Half next week and half when we sign the lease.”
They drove into the Cabaret parking lot. Todd smiled and looked at Campbell as they pulled in next to two other expensive drives. “I’ll definitely think about it and let you know.” This may be my double lucky night.
David went back to his hotel room and, after catching up with Elizabeth on Rob and her day, plugged in his laptop to review two documents that he needed for the next morning.
There was an email from a former employee whom he’d fired a year earlier for spending too much time on the internet, even after several warnings. The parting had not been pleasant.
I wonder what he wants?
Wednesday 20: 15
To: David Sawyer
From: TonyB
Subj: Amateur Mid-East Bombshell Does It All
David, I only met your daughter a couple of times at company outings, but for your sake, family man, I hope this isn’t her!
Your friend,<
br />
Tony
There was a link to a website run by USNet for amateur adult video postings, and David was aware of the content. He clicked.
In a few seconds the title came up and the video started. It was a half-lit bedroom, a boy and girl in bed. The girl looked just like Callie. What are they doing? Then she spoke to her lover and turned toward the camera. It was Callie, or her twin.
He stood in disbelief. What is she doing? Who is that guy? I can’t believe it!
He watched for a minute and was repulsed. He reached for his cell phone and called her, but it went to voice mail. No, not the phone. We need to talk face to face. What will Elizabeth think? Should I tell her? What if someone else recognizes her? I can’t believe this. Maybe it’s not really her.
That Friday afternoon Omid and Goli left their apartment at two and walked in the general direction of Vali Asr Square. They carried a shopping bag and looked like any other couple on the way to the market. After stopping at several shops, they arrived across the street from the east side of the square at three forty-five, next to the door of an apartment building.
Omid stood close to Goli, but they did not touch. “I’ll be back in an hour,” he whispered.
“Do you have to join them today?”
They both knew that security cameras mounted all over the city were watching and recording. “Yes. I must be there. And you must do your part. But please stay back from the parapet wall so that you can’t be seen from the street. If it gets bad, just hold the camera up, but stay behind the wall yourself.”
She looked up at him. He smiled. Then he reached into the shopping bag and quickly moved a green scarf into his pants pocket. He turned and rang the bell for the top floor apartment.
When the speaker answered, he said, “It’s Omid.”
The buzzer sounded and he opened the door for his wife, who went inside and started up the stairs. After a few steps she turned and nodded. “May Allah go with you,” she mouthed.
Several hours later on a viral website there were over thirty minutes of video, apparently taken from a roof overlooking Vali Asr Square in Tehran. One minute the park was almost empty, but the next there were thousands of demonstrators, seemingly of all ages and both genders. Many were wearing green scarves across their faces, and a large number had the same facemasks used by the Occupy protestors in the West. They had signs denouncing the regime and calling for free and fair elections. As they chanted, uniformed police gathered on the south end. But the plain-clothed Basij started attacking the group with whips and sticks from all sides. The video clearly showed demonstrators on the fringes being singled out, beaten to the ground, and dragged off.
Then the police moved in as a group, swinging clubs and throwing tear gas canisters. Near the end, the first shots were fired. It was not clear from where, but demonstrators screamed and ran as several in the crowd went down. The camera caught the scene of one young woman, clearly wounded and bleeding badly from her upper body. Her friends were helping her, but the Basijis descended on them and beat the men who were trying to help her. As they went down, a Basiji grabbed the woman by the hair and dragged her in the opposite direction. Then the screen went blank.
5
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 13TH
Several days later, Todd Phelps was stuck in the morning traffic. As the cars inched forward, he fidgeted with his cell phone, bouncing it gently on the leather of the passenger seat. Finally he dialed a number in Minneapolis.
“Mike? Hey. It’s Todd. I know it’s early. Are you up?…Good. Listen, I’ve been thinking about our conversation. In fact I haven’t thought about much else…No, not even her, and she was beautiful. See how you messed me up? Anyway, if we do this, are you sure we can keep it just between us?…Well, it has to. And you’re right that you’ve probably got the best project. I’ve been studying your package again. Your lease cost does turn out to be lower, at least in the early years, which are the most important…OK, good. Look, I mean, if we’re going to pick you anyway, why not earn a fee, right?…Yeah. And no one knows, right?…How do I set it up?…OK, email me the address at my home computer and I’ll send whatever he needs. He can do it in a few days and then I’ll have an account, right?…Awesome. Well, I’ll call you when it’s set up and you can wire the fee on down…Yeah, sounds great. I can sure use it. Give Mary and me some breathing space. And no harm done, ‘cause yours is the best project anyway…Yeah, well, hey, me too. I really appreciate it, man. This means a lot…Yeah, for both of us. I’ll call you when it’s ready. Have a good one.”
Todd pushed the End button and smiled. He put the cell phone on the passenger seat and slid in a CD, the route he was taking that morning no longer seeming quite so difficult.
David sat at his desk just before noon, swiveled to look downtown, and briefly reflected on the past few days.
Since returning from Minneapolis, his plate had been filled to overflowing, but his mind had been on Callie. And on Omid and Goli, after the demonstration in Tehran on Friday. That morning he’d finally received a short call from someone in Europe asking him to call his cousin Omid in Tehran later that day—the usual way that Omid let David know that he needed to talk.
As soon as he had arrived on Monday he met Kristen, usually calm and unflappable, who had angrily recounted that Capital Tower was headed for a bid despite their full price offer. Since she was departing for Singapore, she would coordinate their final offer from there by email before the deadline set by Bill Porter.
David had received similar status reports from the other members of his team. Todd seemed to have Minneapolis under control. He had worked on organizing his own trip to L.A. later that week, and then to Moscow.
But at the moment his thoughts were closer to home. Was that really Callie? It couldn’t be.
He picked up the phone and dialed her number. Again, the answering machine.
“Hey, it’s Dad. I’m coming out to L.A. on Friday for business. I won’t be there long, so I don’t want to see the whole family, but I’d love to see you. How about if I take you and your roommate—and maybe even the new boyfriend Mom told me about—to dinner that night? We can all meet at your place and go from there. About seven? Call or email, and I’ll see you then. I love you.”
To: Bill Porter
Cc: David Sawyer
From: Kristen Holloway, Singapore
Subject: Capital Tower
Dear Bill,
David Sawyer has authorized me to increase our cash offer on Capital Tower to $ 92 million, almost ten percent more than the asking price. All other provisions of our previous offer remain unchanged. My assistant is sending the original copy of our revised offer to you by courier so that it arrives before the deadline.
I want to reiterate that USNet will move to a binding contract to purchase Capital Tower along with a $ 1 million deposit immediately upon acceptance by the owners of our Letter of Intent. We look forward to hearing from you as soon as you have the opportunity to review our offer with the owners. I will be back in my office next Monday. If you have any questions or need additional input, please contact me by cell phone or email. Thank you.
Kristen
Trevor Knox welcomed his two RTI lieutenants, Akbar Kamali and Victor Mustafin, the latter by videoconference, to their regular monthly meeting in his office. He motioned Kamali to sit at the smaller of his two conference tables, with Mustafin on a screen next to it. Kamali had a cover job as senior IT/ Security manager for USNet, but Mustafin remained “outside” and therefore had more operational freedom. Together they ran the clandestine RTI intercept network that had mushroomed out of Knox’s early listening to cell phone calls. Now most of the work was done by computers, trained to find, analyze and catalog valuable texts, using voice and email key words. None of the RTI operation was electronically traceable to USNet or to the three men. To further insure their security, Kamali never physically visited any RTI facility, and Mustafin never came to USNet.
Knox greeted them in Farsi and in R
ussian. Mustafin would be the RTI duty officer that night, a task rotated around the clock by only twenty trusted men on a staggered schedule. Any matter considered to be of moderate or higher importance was routed to the duty officer, who could then also relay it to Mustafin when he was not on duty himself. If he was unavailable, the inquiry went automatically to Kamali, but the sender thought he was communicating with Mustafin. Knox only acted through these two trusted Muslim brothers, or via encrypted email showing an authentication code and no sender. They spent a lot of money for the best IT systems and hackers; they believed that their RTI intercepts and actions were invisible.
As a matter of routine Knox checked the control panel at his desk which tested for bugs and insured that electronic white noise would foil any attempt to record their conversation. He removed his coat and joined Kamali at the table with a pad and his gold pen. He nodded to the Iranian.
“We’re in reasonably good shape on the equipment side,” Kamali said, looking down at his notes. “David Sawyer’s team just purchased telecom bunkers in three cities. He and everyone think that USNet is opening co-location facilities for website hosting. At our current rate of information growth, they should last until about the end of the year, when we’ll have to buy, build or lease more space, and buy more servers.”
In virtually perfect English, Mustafin added, “On the analysis side, we’re already pushing the limits. It’s easier to add fifty computers than ten competent analysts. Our computers are matching connections and key words a thousand times faster than just two years ago. Who could have foreseen all of the handhelds, and all of the wireless hotspots? We’re literally being flooded with unencrypted emails with every kind of business and personal detail imaginable, which senders can’t imagine we’re reading. And we’ve barely touched all the information in uploaded videos and social media.”
Enemy In the Room Page 5
