Enemy In the Room

by Parker Hudson

  “Just watch out for those guys,” offered Chris Grable.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I heard they promised Data Plus the moon on some suburban Chicago product, but they came in over budget and four months late. It was a disaster.”

  “That’s news to me. Mike Campbell and I went to B-School together. He’s assured me that they’ll finish on time.”

  “I’m just letting you know.”

  “And,” Sawyer added, looking at Phelps, “please be sure that you really compare apples to apples, whether Mike’s a friend or not. That requirement is date sensitive since we have to move out of other space. So choose Brookglen if they’re the best, but don’t let your friendship cloud your judgment.”

  “Absolutely not, David. We’ll only choose the best.”

  “All right, then if that’s all from you guys, here are a few words on my deals. In Los Angeles I reviewed properties with brokers and then strategized with our L.A. team over the weekend. We’re planning to sell the excess office space but retain the studios and production facilities for long-term capacity. We can expand as our operation grows.” He stopped, thinking of Callie. The others were looking at him, waiting for him to finish

  “On Moscow, I’m going over next week. Andrei Selivanov has created a website with virtual tours of several spaces. Hopefully, based on his work, I can arrive, choose a space, start the lease process, and get out in four days.”

  “What is the take on their new President Temirov?” asked Cheryl Miller.

  “So far, it seems favorable. Committed to democracy and reform. He apparently spends a lot of time talking about moral rejuvenation, just like President Harper.”

  “When I was over there last year, “ added Todd, “before the election, the people we met with seemed to like him. He says he’ll try to reduce taxes and make it easier for people to buy homes and apartments. The Russians have enormous untapped wealth tied up in their apartments.”

  “Hey, Todd, maybe you should be the Russian President’s real estate advisor,” chimed in Tom Meadows.

  Sawyer smiled with the rest and said, “Well, Temirov was only elected a month ago and already he’s announced that he wants to have a summit with Harper this summer. He wants to talk about reviving morality and ethics in both of our countries. Seems like quite a task. How would you even measure reviving morality?” He shook his head.

  “There would probably be ways,” volunteered Kristen. There was a pause as all eyes turned to her. She smiled. “I don’t know. Maybe by measuring divorce, teenage pregnancy, alcoholism, abortions, crime, STDs, the number of new porn movies, strip clubs, even SAT scores and tax audit results. I’ve never thought about it, but actually there ought to be lots of ways to measure the positive effects of emphasizing basic right and wrong. And with everything going on in Europe, China, the Middle East and Iran, keeping the Russians as friends might be a good idea.”

  There was silence as they skated out onto the thin ice of values, morality, beliefs—generally taboo subjects in business. Most of them looked down at their hands, not wanting to move out any further on the ice. Finally Sawyer broke the silence.

  “Yes, I guess you’re right. I hadn’t thought about it in that way, either. It’s funny that Russia seems always to be under a cloud, yet other countries get away with the same or worse, and no one says anything. So, anyway, those improvements seem to be what Temirov is after, and I guess in President Harper he has a potential ally. Maybe they will make some difference, but I wouldn’t bet on it. For now, we’re there because they have great software people. Anyway, I think that covers my two major projects. Anything else?”

  As they rose to go and most of the men headed for seconds at the credenza, Kristen said to David, “Can I see you?”

  “Sure.”

  Five minutes later they were seated at Sawyer’s small conference table near the window. Kristen had closed the door. David rubbed his temple. “Do you want some more coffee?”

  “I’m fine, thanks. Or at least as good as I’ll be for a day or two.”

  “Yeah. Hey, one good thing about getting older is that jet lag doesn’t affect you as much. If you don’t sleep anyway, then not sleeping on a plane is about the same as not sleeping at home.”

  She smiled. “Great. I’ll reapply for international work in twenty years. By the way, are there any more details about the school killings in London?”

  “Only that the killer was born in England to a family that was originally from Iran.” David paused and looked at Kristen, who knew his background. “Does it seem to the rest of the world that everyone with my background—or actually anyone connected in any way to Islam—is capable of such outrageous carnage?”

  She shook her head. “Of course not,” she answered. “Only a few terrible crazies. I would only add that some groups within Islam do seem to provide a cover under which those few terrible people are able to work. Sort of like what used to happen in the Protestant and Catholic communities in Northern Ireland until they abandoned revenge—but the Jihadists operate on a much larger and more deadly scale.”

  He nodded. “I wonder why that is.”

  “Of course I’m not sure, but it seems like Islam is more than what we normally think of as a religion. It’s so much about every aspect of life, like an ideology, that I can understand why some people go overboard.”

  “But isn’t your faith—Christianity—also about every aspect of life?”

  “Yes, but I would say more on a personal basis. Not specifically about government and rules on almost everything you can do or think. And not about killing someone if he or she decides to think differently!”

  He looked away. “Yes, I guess you’re right. I just hate to be even partially painted with that brush because of my family. I don’t think of myself as a Muslim or a Christian or anything. I just try to do the right thing.”

  She smiled. “I know. I need to talk with you about that.”

  He raised a hand. “You’ve certainly told me about your faith. I think I understand what you believe. I’m glad it works for you.”

  She paused, thinking. “I guess Islam has never had anything equivalent to the Reformation. It’s as if the old Roman Catholic Church of a thousand years ago were still all powerful, issuing edicts to governments and expecting total submission. In my personal opinion, excesses like that happen whenever the focus shifts from personal faith to ‘religion.’”

  “I guess I can see that. Hopefully someone or something will help make that shift in Islam. But, anyway, you asked to meet, and I know it wasn’t for a comparative religion class. Sorry. But I do appreciate your perspective.” He looked at her, as if to give her the floor. I should talk to Kristen about Callie. They met a few times before Callie went to school. She can probably help me understand what to do next.

  “In five minutes you may want to rethink that, but thank you. David, I’m…I guess I need your help, and I need to tell you something. I suspect it’s going to affect my work, at least for a few days or a week.”

  “What is it, Kristen?”

  “You’ve heard of Congresswoman Janet Sullivan?”

  “Yes. One of Harper’s strongest supporters. Very smart. Used to work in television, I think. What about her? She’s not even from this state.”

  “Right, on all counts. Well, several years ago…” She looked up at her boss. “I had an affair with her husband, Richard, who is an attorney.”

  There was silence for a few moments. He leaned forward and wrapped his hands around his mug. “You? Kristen, I never would have imagined.”

  “I know.” She clasped her hands. “I know. Look, it was several years ago. I’m a different person now. The experience changed me. And Richard, too. Neither of us is the same. I almost never talk to him. But…”

  She took a deep breath.

  “I was a young residential real estate agent on the way up. He was an older attorney with a little gray hair, two teenage children, and a marriage that seemed to
be breaking up. I know now that I encouraged him to leave Janet. Thank God he didn’t. I was terrible. Richard and I both did terrible things. But that’s all behind us. Has been for years. As I said, God changed us, and we’re different people from those days, but I don’t imagine that the press will understand that.”

  Sawyer couldn’t help thinking of Callie. Finally, he asked, “What do you mean, ‘the press’?”

  Kristen moved in her chair and brushed back her auburn hair with her hand. “Someone telephoned Richard just before my trip and threatened to expose our affair unless he persuaded his wife to vote against Harper’s media bill. The one that would restrict adult movies, like we make.” She paused. “Richard called to warn me. He couldn’t be blackmailed, because he and I met with Janet a year after the affair, confessed what we had done, and asked for her forgiveness. But now, today, I guess to try to discredit anyone associated with the President and this proposal, they’ve put out a press release through some group in New York. So, I guess this is their follow-through on the threat. It might turn into a media circus. He’s already getting calls. I expect that I will. David, I’m sorry. I guess it might get a little crazy for the next few days, so I thought you ought to know.”

  “It’s just so hard to imagine you, Kristen. You’re so…so…”

  “I know. Think how I feel. Everything I now know to be true about life and my faith is instantly trashed by my past. This may hurt a lot of people, starting of course with Janet, their kids, my friends, our department, President Harper, maybe even the bill she’s trying to pass.” She looked down, her shoulders slumping. “It’s hard to realize all the repercussions we cause others by what we do.”

  “What would you like me to do?”

  She looked up. “I’m not sure, David. I’ve never been here before. I’m embarrassed. I’m going to get phone calls that I don’t want. You may get some. So I don’t know. Maybe just some understanding and some slack for now to help me get through this. I love what we do, and with so much on our plate right now, I’ve even managed to let you down. “

  David remained silent when she finished. My daughter. Now my best exec.

  Finally he spoke. “Kristen, of course. Take as much time as you need.”

  She broke into a small smile, her hands together in front of her on the table. “Thank you.”

  There was a knock at the door and David’s assistant opened it, taking a step inside.

  “Your voice mailbox is full, and Mr. Burke says that he needs to talk with you about a personnel matter. And, Kristen, Trish tells me that you have a lot of phone calls as well.” She waited.

  “OK,” David said, rising. “I’ll call Paul. Kristen we’ll just do our best to get through the next few days.”

  She stood and pushed her chair back under the table. “Thanks. I’ll stay on top of Porter and the other deals.” She nodded to his assistant on her way out, hearing the phone ring in her office as soon as she was in the hallway.

  At Zhukovo Airport on the east of Moscow, where NovySvet maintained a large facility, Simon North had completed the acquisition of the company the previous afternoon. Retired General Yevgany Beleborodov, the director of NovySvet, was now, thanks to North, a rich man. Today the two former generals from opposing cold war forces had flown together an hour further east, where they stood on a high bluff overlooking a wide, almost treeless valley in which the snow had melted but no plants yet bloomed. Each wore a heavy coat against the late afternoon chill.

  They were actually on a covered platform built on the edge of the bluff, and ringing the platform were monitors and communication devices, manned by several NovySvet employees. They could simultaneously view whatever was happening in the valley through binoculars or watch close-up on the monitors.

  As they stood looking out over the valley, Beleborodov spoke. “As you know, the key breakthroughs in this technology will be the use of multiple satellites, both stationary and low earth orbit, to illuminate the target. We have the one in orbit now, launched by the Russian government for a fee that we paid. They think it is a communication satellite—which it is—but they don’t know about its other capability. This satellite has our encrypted sequencing, which makes detection almost impossible, even as the target moves. You have seen the videos, but now you will see it in action.” He pointed to the valley and nodded to the men behind the monitors.

  With their binoculars they could see a soldier on a dirt road in the valley, carrying what appeared to be a pistol connected by a cable to his backpack. Around him were both vehicles and the charred remains of past targets on what was clearly a large firing range.

  “In rapid sequence our soldier will illuminate the brick wall you see to his left and the unmanned automobile to his right. In this monitor you can see what he sees on the ground.”

  “The soldier assigns a unique ascending identifier to each target just before he illuminates it. His backpack transmits the encoded identifier at the same instant the pistol illuminates the target. Every time the pistol ‘fires,’ the specific light frequency transmitted to the closest satellite is slightly different.”

  The soldier dropped to one knee and fired the laser. Although there was no visible light or noise, a number instantly appeared in the upper right corner of the screen. “The wall has been assigned that discreet targeting number.”

  As the soldier repeated his firing sequence for the auto, Beloborodov turned to North, gesturing upward with his right hand, speaking in clear but accented English. “Just as we instantly receive the target identifier here, so does the satellite. It uses GPS to fix the position, and the target is locked on.”

  At that moment the automobile started to move, guided by remote control.

  “A target is identified only once. It is thereafter illuminated continuously by a random sequence of low power laser shots from the satellite. With your funding, once we have more satellites in place, the illumination will sequence between them in a random pattern set by that hour’s encryption key, and we will be able to track faster moving targets, like airplanes. And it will be almost impossible for a defender to lock onto the source of the illumination. The result”—he gestured for North to use his binoculars—”is almost continuous illumination, as the target moves its position is constantly updated.”

  They watched as the auto began driving up the valley on a dirt road, and the soldier was no longer visible.

  “In a weapons-free environment,” continued General Beleborodov, “the unique target numbers can be assigned automatically to the best offensive assets. They could be cruise or ballistic missiles launched from hundreds or thousands of kilometers away. Today we will simulate that environment with two short range, shoulder launched missiles from over that hill. Each one has now been assigned one of the target numbers. We should see results any moment now.” He smiled again as he raised his binoculars.

  North followed, choosing to focus on the auto. He watched for a few moments as the vehicle propelled itself up the dirt road, undulating with the terrain. There was a sudden orange flash in his binoculars as the auto disappeared. He looked out and saw a simultaneous flash destroy the wall. Only after the flashes did they hear the sound of the incoming missiles.

  Now it was North’s turn to smile. “Impressive, general, very impressive. Tell me, is there any time limit for when an attack has to be launched, once a target is designated?”

  “Theoretically, no. So long as there are satellites orbiting overhead with our illuminators onboard, logged into our system—which should be possible in two years with your help—one could theoretically illuminate a target one day and not actually fire on it for several days.”

  “Can a target tell that it is being illuminated?”

  “Eventually of course there will be countermeasures. We’re working on them ourselves. But for now only the initial illumination from the first source carries enough power to be detected. By interfacing through GPS, the ongoing illuminations are aimed, knowing within a few meters exactly where to
look. This only requires relatively low power. For that reason, and the changing frequencies, illumination is hard to detect.”

  “Excellent. So, one could ‘tag’ a moving target in one place and then, as long as a suitable missile was in range, fire on it much later, in a completely different location?”

  “Yes. Impressive, isn’t it, sir?”

  “Indeed. I think we have made a wise investment in NovySvet. My congratulations to you and your staff, General Beleborodov.”

  “Thank you, Mr. North. Now, if you don’t mind, I hope that you will join me and our officers for a small party at our base banya before your trip back to London. I think you will find the experience to be quite invigorating and healthful.” He winked.

  “It will be difficult to be more invigorating than the last thirty minutes, general,” replied North, “but I’ve always wanted to try a real Russian banya, and I can’t think of a better time or place.”

  “Excellent, excellent. Let us return to our car for the short drive. And once we are there, I have some ideas on how to improve beyond what you have seen today. We will discuss them while we relax.”

  “And there is some new German laser-splitting technology developed by A.G. Thelkein that we just found out about, and we want to share it with you.”

  “Really? I’ve heard rumors. How did you find out about it?”

  North smiled. In fact, he did not know the answer any more than he knew for whom he had just purchased NovySvet. All his engagements with this client were done with untraceable messages and codes. But the money was always good. “That doesn’t matter. The main thing is that we know the results from their latest tests, along with the compounds they have used, and we will give them to you.”

  Opening the door to the Mercedes for his new boss, General Beleborodov said, “This will be very good, our working together.”

  “Yes, exactly,” North agreed.

  Two hours later Kristen sat alone in her office, her door closed. She had spent much of the morning responding to her colleagues as each of them heard some portion of the news and came to see her. Todd, Cheryl, Chris…each in turn. She imagined what they were saying in the real estate group—indeed, throughout USNet—as she finished her report on office space in the Far East, left Bill Porter a voicemail, and shuffled the paperwork on several other projects.