Enemy In the Room

by Parker Hudson

“I know. But I’m sure if they even halfway stick to their word, we can work it out.” Turning to Andrei’s wife in the back seat, he said, “Thanks to you both. I’ll check with you next week, Andrei, once we see their proposed lease.” He got out and opened the back door, then helped Andrei’s wife to the front seat.

  The two men shook hands through the window. “OK. Have a good flight.”

  David turned and walked into his hotel, looking at his watch and realizing that he only had a few hours to sleep before the early taxi ride to the airport. In his room he checked his email, downloading Kristen’s final Singapore report, several complex questions from Paul Burke about two of the California properties he had visited, and requests from Todd, Chris and Cheryl for his input on their current projects, all of which he planned to read on the plane. He packed the last items except what he would wear on the flight. He sat on the edge of the bed and called Elizabeth. She confirmed that on Tuesday Rob had only spent a little more than an hour online after school, at least as far as she could tell, and David gave her his flight arrival time for Thursday afternoon.

  “So I’ll see you tomorrow about supper time,” he concluded.

  “OK. I love you, David. Have a safe trip.”

  “I love you, too.”

  David hung up and decided that he might sleep better if he took a shower. But an hour later he lay in bed in the dark, wide awake. He was already focusing on what had to be done back in the office, after thinking only about Moscow for the last six days.

  He glanced over at the illuminated clock on the bedside table: 2:05. He decided to check his email. Five minutes later he saw, among others, a familiar name on his laptop and clicked to open it.

  Wednesday 16:47

  To: David Sawyer

  From: TonyB

  Subj: Amateur Mid-East Bombshell Does It All—AGAIN

  David,

  If this is your daughter, she’s something else. Must make your Iranian blood boil!

  Or maybe because she’s on a USNet site, it makes you proud.

  Your friend,

  Tony

  The link was at the bottom of the email. He hesitated, circling his cursor around the icon, then clicked. A moment later he was whisked to a movie site and into the bedroom of …his daughter. And there was Alex. He watched for a few moments, fast forwarded, watched again, and then closed it. He stared at his home page for quite a while, not moving. What is she doing?

  He went back to bed, but for the next two hours, he checked the clock about every fifteen minutes, thinking of Callie and his family. I can’t tell Elizabeth about this. It would kill her. But maybe now she’ll understand why we have to be tough with Callie. What if a family member in L.A. saw it?

  His racing mind tripped over the fact that L.A. was eleven hours behind Moscow, so it would be afternoon there. He sat up in bed and turned on the bedside lamp. After thinking for another moment, he got up, washed his face and picked up his handheld. Shortly he was dialing Callie’s cell phone from his bed.

  He was never optimistic with her mobile phone, but on the third ring she answered.

  “Hello,” said his daughter’s voice, somewhat questioningly. David was not sure whether her digital readout would register a call from Russia.

  “Hey, Callie. It’s Dad.”

  “Oh. Where are you?”

  “Actually I’m in Moscow—though I’ll be leaving for home in a few hours. How are you?”

  “Uh, I’m fine. Yeah, Mom told me that you would be going there. How is it?”

  “Not at all like I expected. It’s really almost a ‘normal’ place. More like the U.S. than you’d think from watching the news.”

  “Um. Good. I’m sure that you’ve been very successful.”

  The slight sarcasm baiting her voice almost had the desired effect, but he fought back his reaction and plowed ahead, trying to sound normal.

  “Yes. Well, I hadn’t planned to call you because I assume that you’re still with Alex, but then I do really love and care about you, so I thought that I’d check in and see how you’re doing.”

  A pause. “Really good. We’re fine. I’m finishing up papers in two classes. Exams will be in two weeks. Just the usual.”

  “And Alex?”

  “He interviewed for two jobs and may go to summer school.”

  “Well, uh, good. Good. But, Callie, I got a link to another video that you’ve done, or at least I think it’s you—and Alex.”

  Silence.

  “Callie, did you do another one? You don’t need to do that. It’s terrible.”

  “You used to help me. But you told us that we’re on our own. So it was a quick way to make some good money. And we may make some more because now your company has a program where we can upload a video, and as people pay to watch, we get half. How about that for entrepreneurship? We have a way to make it on our own. No one can really tell it’s me.”

  “I think you’re wrong there. I got an email from the same man—he likes to rub my face in it.”

  “So it’s a problem for you. Is that the real issue? That someone in the company or in our extended Iranian family might recognize me and call you?”

  Silence.

  “Is that the real problem, Dad? Well, if they call, you can just tell them that you’ve cut me off.”

  “Callie, why are you doing this?”

  “Why am I doing this? I was just minding my own business and doing what I’m sure most young people do, when my father humiliated my boyfriend and disowned me a few weeks ago. Now I have to fend for myself—with Alex. And we are.”

  “Callie, making a porn movie is wrong.”

  “We’re acting and just having fun, and most people will never know who it is. And if it’s wrong to make one, is it right to make money by hosting them on the internet? If Alex and I are wrong, what about USNet? They’ve made it so that if we sponsor someone else, we make twenty-five percent of what they bring in. So we’ve asked Jane and her boyfriend to try it. Then if they sponsor someone, we get ten percent. Your company knows how to motivate entrepreneurs.”

  “I…I can’t argue with you about that. I’m not proud that we do it. But that’s business. This is our family. Your personal choices.”

  “And yours. To disown me and to stay at USNet.”

  “I can’t leave USNet over a tiny piece of what we do. That would be crazy. And I can’t countenance you living with a man when you’re not married—especially one who treats you like Alex treats you.”

  “Dad, we’re about to get into the same argument that we had three weeks ago. We’re getting nowhere. For the record, I’m safe and I’m fine. Let’s just stop here before we repeat everything all over again.”

  Is there nothing more to say to my daughter? “Callie. I love you, and I hope that you’ll think again about all that you’re doing.”

  “Goodbye, Dad. Have a good flight.”

  He put down the phone, switched off the light, and lay back in bed. He was angry with Callie and Rob, and upset with Knox and Kristen.

  How can I stop my children from doing destructive things? Can’t they see the consequences?

  At least for the moment my own part of the business is going well. I’ll focus on that, but I’ve got to come up with solutions for Rob and Callie.

  In what seemed like only a few moments, the alarm went off.

  I hope I can sleep on the plane.

  That afternoon, a few hours after David’s plane took off, Pavel Sivyakov was driving out to the warehouse to meet his friends. The last few days had been ones of great worry and tension, but in the end they had decided to take the offer from the second group. So they had purchased plane and train tickets, and he had instructed his wife to begin packing for a short trip—he did not want her to become hysterical about leaving Russia, probably forever.

  In four hours, after it was dark, they were to meet with three men who were coming to inspect the missiles, and they were bringing the money. He could not help feeling both excited and relieved.
It was almost done.

  He had just pulled up to the parking lot which surrounded the former auto repair facility when his phone rang. His friends’ cars were not yet there, so he assumed that it was one of them calling. He stopped the engine and answered his phone.

  “Turn on your camera,” a male voice said.

  He turned on the two-way connection, and there, in front of him, were his wife and daughter, with tape across their mouths and their hands bound. Their wild, wet eyes told him all he needed to know.

  The voice behind the other phone said, “We mean them no harm. This is just extra insurance that our transaction tonight goes smoothly, and that you do not have any plans to change the terms, or the product. Do you understand?”

  He could barely muster the breath to say, “Yes.”

  When his friends arrived he told them about his wife and daughter. They encouraged him that all would go well, and that they would be living their new lives within just two days. They set about making the launcher and the missiles it contained ready for careful inspection.

  Precisely at nine o’clock they heard two cars pull up outside the warehouse, and Pavel went outside through the personnel door next to the large roll-up door which had been closed since their special product arrived. He was confronted by six, not three, large men in blue fatigues. They were armed with rifles and pistols, and two of them immediately began walking down the sides of the building. The one closest to him, from the lead car, said, “Are you Mr. Sivyakov?”

  Pavel nodded, looking warily at the men and their arms.

  “I am Boris Rusnak, and we are here to do business with you. We would like to see inside.”

  Pavel stepped out of the way. Rusnak and two others went inside, and he followed.

  After nodding to the others standing together inside the door, the two with Rusnak fanned out and looked all around the facility, ignoring the missile launcher in the middle of the floor. When they both nodded, Rusnak used a walkie-talkie clipped to his shirt, and a moment later a third car drove up outside.

  The two men who now entered the space were not like the first six; clearly these were men whose expertise would advance the transaction. Without saying anything to anyone, except to ask for the code to operate the launcher mechanisms, the two looked and took readings and examined every part of the missiles and their carrier. Pavel and his friends stood and watched, shifting from foot to foot, and making small talk. Finally the two experts walked to Rusnak, conversed with him for a moment, and left. Pavel heard their car depart.

  Rusnak walked over and extended his hand with a smile. “Congratulations. We have confirmed that the product is as you said. Would you like your money now?”

  Pavel felt a wave of relief, smiled, shook Rusnak’s hand and looked at his friends. “Yes, of course.”

  Rusnak spoke into the phone again, and a moment later there was the sound of another vehicle outside. Two men came into the warehouse with five satchels over their shoulders, and dropped them on the floor by Rusnak.

  “Five satchels with $1 million in $100 bills. Please check them.”

  Pavel and each of his friends picked up a bag, opened it, and looked inside. Pavel pulled out one of the many wrapped bundles, and was delighted to see so many faces of Benjamin Franklin. He looked around, and the friends nodded to each other.

  “Then, please,” Rusnak said, “the keys to the launcher. And, by the way, I congratulate you on your craftsmanship and welding skills. It really does look like any other large truck. If you will open the door, we will depart.”

  Pavel reached in his pocket to hand over the keys, and motioned to his colleague to roll up the door. One of the men who had brought the money satchels took the keys, climbed into the cab, and started the engine.

  Rusnak turned to Pavel. “So far all has gone as planned. We do not wish to be followed. For the sake of the insurance that you saw on your phone, stay inside this facility for five minutes after you hear the last of our engines. Then you will be free to go.”

  Pavel nodded. “Understood. They will be unharmed?”

  “You have my word.” Rusnak extended his hand, and they shook again. “It has been a pleasure.” He looked at his compatriots as the lorry went into gear. “Let’s go.”

  Rusnak waited outside until the lorry and the other car were down the road. Then he took out a small gun-like device and pointed it toward the warehouse for a moment. It beeped. He got into the car and said to his colleague behind the wheel, “Pull up to that rise.” The car departed.

  They stopped a short distance away. Rusnak looked at his watch. Thirty seconds later he saw the contrail of the incoming missile. A moment later there was a huge explosion and the warehouse was engulfed in flames.

  Rusnak smiled. “It’s a pity how dangerous welding can be. They should have been more careful.”

  The driver asked, “What about all that money?”

  Rusnak made a motion with his hand as he watched the conflagration. “Counterfeit, except for the first few bills in each bundle. A small price. Let’s go.”

  As they pulled out into the road again, he said, almost to himself, “The bastards. They stole from the motherland. What did they expect?”

  15

  SUNDAY, MAY 8TH

  Friday at the office was a blur. David had not scheduled any important meetings, using the time while his body and brain adjusted to read his mail, catch up with each member of his team, and return phone calls. Saturday afternoon he took Elizabeth to a baseball game; Rob said he was too busy to go. Then they slept late that Sunday morning.

  The Sawyers were sipping coffee in bed, about to read the Sunday paper, when the phone rang.

  “Hey, David. It’s Kristen. Are you awake?” He was surprised. Members of his team knew that they could call him at any time, but, still, Sunday morning was unusual.

  “Yes, we’re up. How are you?”

  “Have you seen the article in this morning’s paper about Bill Porter?”

  “No. I was just about to start reading the paper. What wonderful thing has he done now?”

  “Actually, he’s missing. Since Wednesday night. There was a piece on last night’s news about it, but the article this morning—it’s in the Metro section—has more information.”

  He put his coffee on the bedside table. “Since Wednesday? I’m turning to it.” There was silence as David read the article. “They found his car outside an inn north of here? Wonder what he was doing there.”

  “Well, it’ll be hard to involve us. That’s one place where USNet has no assets.”

  “Why do you say ‘involve us’?

  Kristen paused. “Well, I was just thinking about his voicemail—when he said he’d been threatened. And he accused us.”

  Elizabeth turned the paper slightly in his hand so that she could read it.

  “Kristen, why would anyone pull us into something like this? I mean, I hope they find him—wandering in the woods, or on one of his romantic safaris in the mountains with a broker or attorney of the female persuasion. But it would be quite a stretch to implicate us. We didn’t do anything.”

  “I know, I know. But it was so recent—his call. Anyway, I just thought we should talk about it, and that’s why I called.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll read the article, and we’ll talk tomorrow if he hasn’t turned up. But, please, Kristen, don’t call the police and tell them that he said we threatened him ten days ago.”

  He could picture her smile in the tone of her voice. “Oh, I know not to do that. But I will pray for him and his family.”

  “Good. Please do pray for them. And have a great Sunday. I’ll be working on all the stuff you guys left for me while I was gone. Now I remember why I hate leaving on these assignments.”

  “I guess that’s why you’re the boss. All your real estate children are glad you’re back. See you tomorrow.”

  He hung up and told Elizabeth, who had listened quietly to his side of the conversation, the rest of the story.

>   “That’s terrible. A wife and three young children. You know, you people in real estate are too trusting. Meeting people you don’t know all over everywhere based on a phone call.”

  “He’ll turn up. Probably doing something he shouldn’t. But I hope he’s all right. Anyway, when is Rob likely to be up?”

  An hour later, over a late morning brunch of waffles and bacon, David, Elizabeth and Rob talked about his internet games. Parents and son recited their previous positions on the subject. In the end they reached a compromise that after a week Rob could resume playing the games one hour a night during the week, and four hours total on weekends. They further agreed that with an A average in all subjects, the restrictions would be off; but if his grades did not improve to at least B’s, the games would be cut out all together.

  David asked, “Is that OK with you, Rob?”

  “Well, I guess it’s better than no games at all.”

  “Our plan makes the result totally up to you.”

  Rob looked down. “Yeah. I know.”

  Sounding positive, his father asked, “OK, then, is that our agreement?”

  Rob glanced up. “Sure. I guess.”

  “Good. Now, can I help you with any of your homework?”

  “No. I don’t have much.”

  “Well, let me know.”

  Knox’s meeting with Kamali and Mustafin would be at his lake home. He had arranged for his current love interest to visit her mother in Cincinnati for the weekend. Knox had asked his two chief lieutenants to drive out to discuss special projects that could only involve the three of them.

  Wearing shorts, knit shirts, and boat shoes, they sat in wooden chairs on the dock adjoining Knox’s boathouse, sipping coffee.

  “I read in the paper,” Knox said, putting down his mug, “that a fairly well-known commercial real estate agent has been missing for several days.”

  Mustafin nodded, a trace of a smile on his lips. “Yes, I heard the same thing. A pity.”