Enemy In the Room (3 page)

“What? How did you get it?” Omid asked,
taking the large envelope and bringing it to his lap.

“A friend of a friend. Can you get it
posted?”

Omid’s closest friends knew that either he
hosted an antigovernment website overseas, or he knew the people
who did. Either way, if you gave information to Omid, it usually
wound up on the internet in a few days.

“I—I’m not sure,” Omid said, darting his
eyes around to see who might be listening or who might have
observed the exchange. He had to consider the risk of leaving the
coffee house with this potentially explosive information.

“The list is real. And official.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Omid said,
smiling and looking at Goli, whose countenance had not changed.

“It’s important that it gets out. Families
want to know what has happened. And so do relatives in the
West.”

“I know. I know. Here, keep it tonight, and
give it to Morad in the next day or two in private. Morad, please
read it over, and if you think it’s genuine, bring it to the office
along with one of your oil company’s contracts to translate. Then
we’ll deal with it. OK?”

The other young men nodded. “OK.”

An hour later, as they left for the trip
home to their flat in the Elahiyeh part of northern Tehran, Goli
said to Omid, “Thank you for being careful.”

Putting his arm around her, Omid said, “If
Morad vouches for it, then it needs to be published. But I want to
live to see our children’s children!”

She smiled back at him. “As do I,” she said
softly.

At that same moment in a working class
London neighborhood, Jamal, a young man who had emigrated with his
family from Iran when he was a child, entered a small warehouse not
far from his local mosque. He was greeted by his imam and several
close friends, who shook his hand and hugged him.

After donning a robe made especially for the
occasion, he sat on a stool in front of a blue blanket. Lights came
on, and the imam started the video camera.

Over the next few minutes Jamal only had to
glance at his notes twice, as he explained why he hated the West
and was proud to be Allah’s next suicide bomber.

TUESDAY, MARCH 29TH

As David rode up the elevator that Tuesday
morning, checking his handheld, he felt the dull ache and scratchy
eyes from too little sleep.
Elizabeth was right; I couldn’t turn
it off
. He had to finish a few things after the big New Year’s
celebration with the older Persian couple’s family, and he hadn’t
fallen asleep until two. The festivities had begun on a somber note
for the misguided student who had bombed the church on Sunday, but
soon the families moved on to celebrate the millennia of good
things about Iran, rather than the fanaticism of the last
decades.

Now it was 7:45. Despite the headache, he
felt ready for anything that Trevor Knox or Paul Burke might
ask.

The double doors into the real estate group
were open and the lights were on, but the receptionist would not be
in for thirty minutes. Their offices wrapped around a corner of the
floor, with the reception area directly off the elevator lobby. The
décor was cream colored walls, dark green carpeting, and light
brown trim. Behind the reception area was a spacious conference
room with a view of the city.

David walked the silent hallway to his large
corner office, noticing a few lights beyond the break room. He
dropped his files on a conference table to the left of his door,
took his briefcase over to the desk, and plugged in his laptop. The
first new message from Phyllis Jordan informed him that the meeting
with Knox had been moved from that morning to just after lunch. He
took a deep breath.
So I’ll get a cup of coffee and ask Julie to
rearrange my day. Actually, it’s better
.

“Hi.” It was Kristen Holloway. She smiled as
he looked up from his computer, and he motioned her to come in. A
tall, striking woman in a dark blue suit, Kristen’s auburn hair was
pinned up, giving her a very businesslike appearance.

“How was New York?” he asked.

She walked over to his desk, a mug of coffee
in each hand and a folder under one arm. “Your early morning sounds
are unmistakable. I brought you a wake-up present.” She put one of
the mugs on his desk.

Reaching for it, he faked a grimace.
“Thanks. Not much sleep last night.”

“Sorry. How much longer does the Persian New
Year’s celebration go on, anyway?”

“Thirteen days in total. We’ve got five
more. But I’m cutting back after last night, ”

She raised an eyebrow and smiled. Kristen’s
soft demeanor, freckles, and the unnerving twinkle in her eyes
belied the first impression of a no-nonsense businesswoman, and
these qualities were so obviously genuine that they threw even the
most hardened negotiators off balance, particularly those of the
male gender. David had recognized these disarming traits when she
first interviewed two years earlier. She had arrived with a broad
residential real estate background; David had helped hone her
knowledge on the commercial side, and now she could handle just
about any assignment.

He continued, “And no one says it exactly,
but the memorial service for the church bombing, all of the
coverage on the Middle East, and the President’s address coming
later this week don’t lend themselves to festivities.”

Kristen nodded. She thought of the terrible
carnage portrayed on the 24/7 news cycle, and paused. Finally she
said, “We finished the office lease. The crew should be there today
starting the fit-out of our new space.”

David smiled. “Good. Did we have to give
much?”

“Just the usual sorts of things.” She
shrugged. “It’s nice to be wanted. I’ve been on the other side,
negotiating with a lot less than USNet’s credit rating behind
me.”

He nodded as he took a sip of the coffee.
“Glad to hear it went well. Do you know if Todd’s in?”

“I saw his car in the parking deck.”

He called Todd Phelps’s extension.

“Hey,” Todd raised a cup of coffee to
Kristen a moment later as he walked in, a pad in the other hand.
The younger man was about Kristen’s height and obviously in good
physical shape. Todd’s older brother—by about ten years—had been in
David’s high school class, and the boys and their families had been
close. When the older brother was killed in a car crash their
senior year, David had done his best to fill in for him with Todd.
Many years later, when Todd was finishing business school, he
approached David about a job. David enthusiastically encouraged him
and over the past year had acted as both employer and mentor.

Todd smiled at David. “You look terrible.
What happened?”

“New Year’s in March, on a Monday. An old
Persian tradition, as you may remember from years ago with my
parents. Anyway, I need to talk with both of you,” David began,
motioning them to chairs around his conference table.

“Kristen, Hong Kong shouldn’t take much
longer. So I’d like you to work with me on buying Capital Tower.
Todd, that will free you up to focus on Minneapolis and Moscow.
OK?”

“I’ll give Kristen the Capital Tower
acquisition file,” Todd responded.

“Bill Porter is the broker. You know him,
don’t you, Kristen?”

“Yes. He also represents lots of tenants
downtown. No matter whom he’s representing, he always seems to get
what’s best for Bill.”

David nodded and leaned forward in his
chair. “I want to buy Capital Tower before anyone realizes what a
steal it is—below replacement cost. Assuming we can build a sky
bridge, it will work well with the Grand. It’s a great opportunity
to create a signature USNet headquarters at a very visible
location.”

The two younger members of the team
exchanged glances. “I hadn’t thought of that,” Todd admitted. “A
great use of the Grand’s extra parking. And we’d save a ton on
rent.”

Kristen smiled. “Did you think of this all
by yourself, great leader?”

He accepted her compliment by leaning back.
“I got the idea from reading numbers and looking out the window.
It’s what they pay me to do. Let’s hope it works. It would be nice
for our team to make a big impact on the bottom line. Good for
all
of us.” He smiled. “But let’s have a quick catch up on
your other projects before everyone else arrives.”

A few hours later in Long Beach, just south
of Los Angeles, David’s daughter Callie swiped the alarm clock and
grimaced at the sunlight that cut between the curtains in her
bedroom. “It’s late,” she finally said.

“Umm,” Alex Spalding, her boyfriend, offered
from beneath a pillow.

“Last night was late, too.”

Emerging slowly, Alex reached for her. “But
good.”

She moved his hand and nodded. “Not now. I
gotta study for a test in two hours.”

“You’ll do fine,” he said, replacing his
hand.

Smiling, she put his hand behind his back.
“And what if I don’t do well? My parents will kill me.”

“But you’re so beautiful and it’s so
early.”

Moving to the edge of the bed, she looked at
him. “Maybe, but I’ve still got the test. And since you’re an
aspiring actor with no job and no money, I don’t want to flunk a
course and have Dad think about lowering my allowance.”

“When your Dad called the other night, maybe
I should have answered and told him that we’re in love and to send
more money.”

She stood up. “No way. I don’t think telling
him that you’ve moved in would mix well with his Iranian
background.”

“Is that why you’re so beautiful? My
beautiful Arab girlfriend!”

“I am
not
an Arab! My Dad’s family is
Persian
. Trust me—Muslim Iranians and Muslim Arabs get along
about as well as French Catholics and English Protestants did. They
fought
all the time.” She hit him with a pillow.

“Ow!” he laughed. “It’s too early for
history.”

“Do I look like history?”

“No, definitely not.”

“Anyway, I called Mom yesterday, and they’re
cool. But Dad’s working too hard, as usual.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing about work.”

Running her hand through her jet black hair,
she moved toward the bathroom. “How would you know?”

Sitting up, he grimaced. “Hey, you know I’m
trying.”

“Well, maybe you should try harder, and
earlier. And maybe lighten up on the recreational hits a little,
‘til you get a job or get back in school. We can’t afford
them.”

As she half-closed the door, he threw the
pillow her way. “You’re no fun in the morning.”

She looked out, putting toothpaste on a
brush. “But I don’t recall you saying that last night.”

At that same time Callie’s father was
walking up the curved, carpeted staircase to the office of Paul
Burke, the U.S. Chief Operating Officer of USNet.

“Hey,” David said, depositing his files and
sitting at Burke’s polished mahogany conference table.

On the corporate organizational chart they
were unequal equals. The two men were about the same age and
enjoyed working out in the corporate gym and playing golf together.
Paul Burke, almost bald, was head of U.S. Operations, which made
him de facto #2 in the company. But he had counterparts in Europe
and Asia. David Sawyer, on the other hand, ran real estate
operations worldwide, interacting with all three managers, and,
like Burke, reported directly to Knox. The result left David and
Paul as near-equals in the U.S., and they helped each other
whenever they could.

As David took out copies of his real estate
summary they heard a noise coming from the video screen on the
wall, and Knox slid into his chair facing them, live from Los
Angeles.

“Gentlemen.” He smiled and nodded, his eyes
darting to the agenda in front of him. As was customary for all of
the company’s executives, Knox wore a straight collar white shirt,
dark suit and conservative tie. “It’s beautiful out here. We’ve had
a full morning, and at lunch we’ll give five million dollars in
university prizes from our USNet Free Speech Foundation. And I’ve
asked the foundation board to consider a large grant to the church
that was bombed on Sunday.”

“That would be very good,” Burke said.

“Yes.” He took out his gold pen and lightly
tapped it on the table as he ticked off their agenda. “Let’s see.
Paul and I need to talk about the U.S. numbers, the purchase of
E-News and several other possible acquisitions. But there’s also a
lot of real estate, so, David, please begin.”

Sawyer started through his list, but before
he could mention Kristen’s nearly completed negotiations for their
new office space, Knox interrupted.

“I’ve decided not to expand in Hong Kong,
David. I’d rather divide the operation between Singapore and Seoul.
In fact, cut back in Hong Kong to a minimal presence and instead
expand in Beijing so that we can better influence the Chinese
government.”

David felt his hands tightening around the
thick report on their new Hong Kong office, but he replied in an
even voice, “You suggested that we expand in Hong Kong last fall.
We’ve already hired people there.”

“I understand.” The pen made a single tap.
“But for now I want to pull back from Hong Kong and focus on other
Asian cities. And since we’re behind in securing space, please
hurry to find suitable locations.”

David nodded. “All right.” He swallowed.
“The next item on our agenda should save some money.” He summarized
his plan to purchase Capital Tower, add it to the Grand, and create
a new headquarters for USNet, all of which he demonstrated would
substantially reduce their operating budget. “What do you
think?”

Knox considered for a moment and then
nodded. “Sounds good.”

He knew that Knox’s informal OK was all he
needed to take the project to the next decision point. He made a
note on his pad.