Enemy In the Room

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Enemy In the Room Page 31

by Parker Hudson


  He had not been able to sleep because his mind would not stop racing. After Friday night’s dinner he had immersed himself in checking out their new properties and formulating the final hold/ sell/lease plan with Bud Purcell. He instinctively knew that hard work was the best way to dull the pain caused by Callie’s “registration” in Mexico and all that it implied. And so he had thrown himself into it, even arriving late for Monday evening’s dinner alone with Elizabeth, while Callie and Jane studied. But Elizabeth did not seem to mind any of the inconveniences. She had a wonderful time shopping and talking with their daughter and her friend. David was thankful that their relationship seemed to be OK and that Elizabeth apparently never found out that Callie had done videos with Alex.

  But even as he had worked hard on the assignment, given his daughter’s behavior, he could not help being repulsed by what USNet was doing. With the project completed and the report ready to be typed, David found himself thinking more about Trevor Knox, the company, the President, and their upcoming trip to Moscow. His mind replayed for the hundredth time the events of the last few weeks and the possible consequences. Maybe there’s just a misunderstanding, he thought, as he rubbed his forehead. Moving the eighteen to twenty year olds to a Mexican company is so obvious. What will happen when someone finds out and calls us on it? But who’s looking? Maybe that’s what Trevor is counting on. Or maybe he expects the law to change again, so he’s just parking them temporarily. I don’t know, but I hope it’s a misunderstanding and Callie will have to quit. I guess I can ask at today’s meeting with Trevor and Paul. I wonder what Paul knows.

  And what if it’s not a misunderstanding? What if Trevor is doing this for real? What do I do? Make a big deal out of it? And lose my job? That would be real smart. What should I tell Kristen and that congresswoman? And Sandra Van Huyck? The President? Something? Nothing?

  He gently nudged Elizabeth. “Good morning, dear. We’re descending. Did you have a good sleep?”

  She nodded groggily and cracked her eyes. “I guess, but a short night. I don’t see how you do this so often.”

  “You get used to it, though usually I grab a few hours sleep. Tonight I was just thinking too much.”

  “Well, come home early. We’ll have dinner and go to bed.” She smiled and nuzzled her head on his shoulder.

  “Yes.” He wished that he could return her feelings, but his mind continued to race.

  Todd told Mary that he had an early breakfast meeting, but the day before he had organized some extra time at the RTI console when the load would normally be light. The Mustafin connection to Kamali had him deeply troubled. Mustafin had recruited him onto the RTI team with the threat of letting USNet know about his illegal “finance fee.” But if he and Kamali were friends? What did Kamali already know? Did they somehow work together?

  After logging into the system and handling a couple of routine intercepts, he switched his console to Busy within the network and went looking in the extensive data banks. He typed in his own name. A large file came up, with intercepts of his conversations with Mike Campbell. David Sawyer: the file he had seen earlier. Akbar Kamali. No information. He tried different spellings. Nothing. Victor Mustafin. Nothing. Trevor Knox. Blank. The CEOs of USNet’s main competitors. A short paragraph on each. Paul Burke. A full file.

  Then he shifted to companies. For E-News, which USNet had just acquired, there was a huge file. As he drilled into it, he found intercepts implying that its CFO had published false financial figures and that the CEO had agreed to help cover it up. All that a few weeks before the acquisition was first announced.

  He typed in USNet. Almost nothing—just short stories from various newspapers.

  So as not to attract any attention, he clicked off the Busy and handled several intercepts. Then he returned to his investigation. He could not print and take anything out of the building, but he made notes on a few small slips of paper.

  Callie was still high as she, Alex and Jane opened the latch to their apartment and collapsed on the sofa at three that morning. After a final dinner with her parents and seeing them off to the airport in a taxi, Callie, Alex and Jane had partied with friends. Tequila and energy drinks. And now Callie was looking forward to a long morning’s sleep; Alex had already headed for their bedroom.

  From the sofa she reached for the answering machine by the phone and pressed the Play button. First there was a message from Kristen, hoping to “just talk and catch up.” Callie smiled at Kristen’s voice and decided to keep the current messages as a reminder to call her unusual friend.

  There was one more. “Hi, Callie. It’s Rob. What’s happening? I’m busy this summer at MailDrop. Pretty boring, but OK money. And my computer stuff. Listen, I just wanted to call and let you know that a friend saw a movie—an ‘adult’ movie—and swears that you’re the star. Can you believe that? Weird. Anyway, I just wanted to say hello and find out how you’re doing. I guess mom and dad have just been out there to see you, so I’ll talk to them. But I’d really like to talk, too. OK? Call me when you can. See ‘ya.”

  Callie curled up on the sofa. Jane stood up to go to bed. She had heard both messages.

  “What will you tell your brother?” she asked, heading for the bathroom.

  From her near fetal position on the sofa, Callie said, “I don’t know. But I can’t think now.”

  All during the morning David handled the routine business that always piled up when his work week in the office began on a Wednesday. A call to Tanya Prescott’s private line confirmed that the plans for Moscow were proceeding as they had anticipated, though she admitted to being more concerned at this point about the state functions than the USNet reception. He hastily put together written notes for his afternoon meeting with Knox. By lunch the thud in his head had become a pounding.

  David had a sandwich at his desk and felt his stomach tightening and his heart racing as his mind moved ahead and tried to imagine how he would broach the subject of Mexico when face to face with Knox.

  A little before three he gathered his notes and walked slowly up the stairs. He stopped by Paul Burke’s office, and the two men went together to the top floor. In five minutes they were seated at Knox’s conference table, and David went deliberately through the items on his agenda, from the Capital Tower contract to his trip to California to fulfilling their latest needs for web hosting space in the Midwest, including Kansas City.

  Throughout the briefing the other men listened and took a few notes, saying little. David finished with Moscow, repeating what Tanya had said that morning, that the plans were on track.

  “They’ve decided to have our reception at five, which will allow them a full day of work, plus a short dinner afterward at the Kremlin before leaving for the Fourth of July party. Also, that’s nine a.m. on the East Coast, so there can be some legitimate live press coverage, too.

  “I plan to fly over on the first. I’ll get in on Saturday about noon and have the weekend to help handle the last-minute details. “

  “Good. I’ll be coming in on the third,” Knox said. “When I arrive we should meet to review how the plans are coming along. And of course you can videophone me anytime.”

  “Sounds good. I think it will go smoothly. Paul, that’s about all I had on my agenda, except that there was one thing I wanted to ask you, Trevor.”

  “Yes?” Knox put down his notes.

  David could hear his heart pounding in his ears. “When I was in California touring our new properties with Bud Purcell, he mentioned that some of our actors are going to visit Mexico so that they can work for our new Mexican subsidiary.” As he watched the frown grow on Knox’s face, his stomach rose into his mouth. He took a deep breath and continued. “I was wondering how that will work, and will it conflict with what we’ve told the President about complying with the new laws?”

  Knox stared at him. Finally he said, “Why do you ask, David?”

  He breathed heavily again, and noticed out of the corner of his eye that Burke had not mo
ved. “I was wondering if it would change the allocations for the spaces we’ve just acquired.”

  Knox seemed to relax a little. “No. No, I don’t expect this situation to last very long. It’s a temporary change, which is why you shouldn’t worry about it.”

  “Oh. And…our pledge to the President?”

  Knox’s eyes narrowed. Again a long pause. “David, we’re keeping our word. We said that no U.S.-produced movies would use anyone under twenty-one. We’ll abide by that ‘pledge’, as you call it. Why are you asking this?”

  David had been watching Knox intently. He smiled. “I just wanted your assurance that I could say exactly that if anyone I’m working with at the White House questions me on it.”

  Knox continued to search him. “David, there is almost no way it could be found out or come up before our Moscow visit. So I don’t think you have to worry.”

  “I know, but I just wanted to be clear, to know what I can say, so that I wouldn’t be blind- sided.”

  Knox paused for a moment. “Yes, well, it’s probably good that you and Paul do know about it, in case it should come up in Moscow.”

  “And what about after Moscow?” Burke asked, finally participating in the conversation.

  Knox smiled a little. “We’re focused now on the boost the President’s visit will give to our Russian business. We’ll worry about that after we get back.”

  “All right,” David said, collecting his papers. “Thanks. That’s all I had.”

  Knox nodded as Sawyer rose. “Thanks, David. Paul and I have a couple of budget items to go over. Congratulations again on Capital Tower.”

  “It’s not done yet.”

  “I know, but you’re in charge, so I’m not worried. And, oh, David—please worry about our real estate, which you do so well, and leave these issues to others.”

  David smiled broadly. “Yes. Sure. I just wanted to know what to say.”

  “Good. Now you do. See you over there, if not before.”

  “Thanks.” David turned and walked to the door, opened it, and walked out past Phyllis Jordan. He went down to the thirty-third floor and directly into the empty men’s room. Looking at himself in the mirror he confirmed that he was drenched in sweat. He wet some paper towels and wiped his face.

  I guess I told him about living up to one’s word, was all he could think. He looked again and wiped his hands with the cool towels. If there is a God, what would he think? Or even what would Elizabeth and Rob think? Rob was so proud of me. Hey, just keep your head down and take the money. Say what Knox says to say and let him take the flack if it’s not right.

  But I’m the one who told Van Huyck and Kristen to believe him. I believed he was telling the truth. It’s not my fault that he changed, is it? What about Callie?

  At that moment Callie was sitting at the conference table in her Cousin Yusef’s office, several files and property listings spread out before them. Callie was looking through the properties. “Here,” she offered a flyer to Yusef, “this home might be perfect for the Payamis. It’s right next to the school, and it has enough bedrooms.”

  Her cousin took the flyer, glanced at it, and threw it in the trashcan under the table. “No, that will not work.”

  “Why not?” Callie ventured.

  Yusef sat up straight in his chair and looked sternly at his cousin. “Because it is the listing of Jim Forrester. And it is owned by Adam Lawrence.”

  Callie was silent, a questioning look on her face.

  “Five years ago Mr. Lawrence agreed to give the listing on their previous home to my father. But the next day Forrester called him and told him that it was worth more than my father had estimated, and so Mr. Lawrence reneged on his word and gave the listing to the other agent. Since then we have never sold any listing of Forrester’s, and we certainly would not do so with the Lawrence home.”

  “But that was five years ago. And what if it is the perfect house for the Payamis?”

  “It cannot be. And it doesn’t matter. We will never forget what Forrester did. And as for Lawrence, he must be taught a lesson. We will not help them.”

  “Even if it also helped your own client? Isn’t that idea of revenge a little misplaced?” She smiled.

  Yusef leaned toward her. “Revenge is important. Allah directs it.”

  “OK. I get it. But I’ve got a friend, a woman I met in commercial real estate, and she’s been telling me about forgiveness—and grace. She says that they are the only way to heal a wound and go on. What do you think?”

  Her cousin was silent for a moment, his anger clearly building. “These concepts ingrain weakness and defeat.” He picked up the papers. “They are foreign to our faith and to our family. We follow Allah’s will as revealed in the Qur’an. And Allah wills that we exact revenge from those who wrong us. Don’t ever forget it. Now, do another search.”

  He handed the papers to Callie, and stood to end the meeting.

  “All right. I’m sorry. I won’t ever bring up a Forrester listing again.”

  As she turned to leave, he said, “You are right.”

  Once Sawyer and Burke left his office, Knox sat at his console and read through the RTI messages forwarded or originated by the duty officer. He thought about their earlier conversation, made two notes and called Akbar Kamali, who answered on his encrypted video phone.

  “Yes, sir? How are you?”

  “Fine. But I have some good and bad news concerning David Sawyer. He just asked about the younger actors being registered in Mexico—says that Bud Purcell told him. I can’t believe that Purcell would tell anyone about that—even David—but how else would he find out? Check it out for us.

  “The good news is that the Moscow reception has been set for five p.m. Allowing for some slippage, I think our target should be seven. What do you think?”

  “That sounds about right, given the short distance to the Kremlin from USNet’s office.”

  “OK. Let them know. Does it have a camera in the nose?”

  “Yes. North says it’ll be a great show. The Kremlin, up close and personal.”

  Knox nodded and smiled. “And after it’s flown four hundred kilometers, only we will have the ability to abort the mission, right?”

  “Yes, at that point control will automatically pass to us, and then only we can abort it with a code known to you, Victor and me.”

  “Excellent. So the Stingers should strike about two hours later. Let the media get worked up and the emergencies declared, and then we’ll paralyze commercial air traffic for the foreseeable future. Tell Salim to launch at 1 pm in New York, which will be 10 am in Los Angeles. Imagine America with no leadership and no air travel. It’s less than two weeks. Stay on schedule.”

  “Yes, sir. And I’ll check with Purcell about what he may have told Sawyer. Not smart.”

  “Have you checked out that security report that David mentioned about cell phones and emails?’

  “No. I haven’t received the copy that David promised.”

  “Akbar, David has been with me for twenty years and has done a great job for us in real estate. But now he’s trying to help the traitors in Tehran, concerned about cell phones, and tells Paul Burke about our moves in Mexico. That could cause real problems after Moscow, given our public initiative with the President.

  “I don’t need to tell you that the next two weeks will change the world. With one stroke we have the opportunity to cut the heads off of two great serpents. America will be leaderless, on her knees in confusion and finger pointing. The Zionists will be easy to pick off. Islam will advance more than in the last two hundred years. All because of our plan.

  “I don’t know what David’s up to, but I don’t like it. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but we’ve got to watch him. I want you and Victor to personally review all his calls, in case the lower levels don’t connect something. And we need to keep him close. We don’t want him going anywhere or talking to the wrong people—intentionally or not. We need to figure out what he’s doing, and w
ho he’s talking to. And why.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll monitor him closely.”

  That Friday evening David and Elizabeth left home for an early movie. He wanted to spend time with Elizabeth before departing for Moscow in a week and missing the entire Fourth of July weekend with her.

  Rob was upstairs playing Street War 2100; the Blue Team had a big party scheduled for the following Friday night of the long weekend, and Rob and Justin had already concocted a plan of bogus places they would tell their parents they were going in order to join their Blue teammates.

  In California, Callie was preparing to go to class. She grabbed her keys from the table by the door.

  Her younger brother picked up the phone and dialed her number. He had called several times from his cell phone, but she had never answered. He thought maybe the home phone might be luckier.

  She heard the phone ring and checked the caller ID. She had dodged at least three calls from Rob. The ID was her parents’ home.

  “Hello,” she answered.

  “Hi, Callie. It’s Rob.”

  “Robbie…” She was the only one who called him that, ever since they were little. “Hey, I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.” She put down her keys. “I got your call, and I planned to call back this weekend.”

  “No problem. How are you?”

  They talked for several minutes about school, his summer job, and their father’s upcoming trip.

  “Sounds pretty exciting, doesn’t it?” he concluded.

  “Yeah, I guess. If you’re into politics.” She moved to sit on the sofa.

  “Or government.” He paused. “Listen, Callie, did you get my message about the adult movie? Isn’t that wild? This guy won’t leave me alone until I talk to you. I told him there’s no way it’s you.”

  She was silent. Then she took a deep breath and said. “Well, Robbie, like, actually he’s right. It is me.”

  “Callie, no…that’s you?”

  “Yes.”

  He felt his stomach turn as he remembered the vision on the screen. “Gross.”

 

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