Enemy In the Room (16 page)

“My dear General,” the Englishman began,
“our employers want to know if we would each like to earn an extra
million dollars this month.”

The Russian smiled. “I’m sure about my
vote.”

“Yes, well, it’s unanimous then. Do you know
anyone in Arzamas-23?”

“Of course. Many old friends. The ‘closed’
city is the center for military research in several fields. And
manufacturing of weapons systems.”

“There’s a slightly complex situation
involving three prototypes of the new GoFor cruise missile that
they want us to help with. If it becomes necessary, do you have
access to any ‘muscle’?”

The older man was silent for a moment.
“Actually, I still have many friends at all levels in the active
military. As you may have guessed from our conversations, I and my
friends are not exactly happy with our nation’s current weak
president, and the direction in which he is taking us. There are
many of us who long for the old, powerful Russia, restored to the
greatness that we deserve. We meet and we talk. We may even have
some organizations of our own. And so, yes, I believe that I can
arrange some ‘muscle’, as you put it. And it will be easy to do so
in Arzamas-23, with many military bases nearby.”

“Very good. Then I expect to call you again
later today.”

“We will do whatever we can. I’ll await your
details.”

Kristen was plugging in her laptop when
David arrived at her door.

She looked up. “Hi.” She inserted the cord
and straightened up. “Long time no see. I ought to take a day off
more often. After the quick trip to D.C. to look at space on
Thursday, sleeping in on Friday morning was just incredible.”

He returned her smile, noting how refreshed
she looked, and then thought of Trevor’s order. His expression
quickly changed. “I want to hear all about it, but right now I want
you to hear a voicemail that Bill Porter left on my phone last
night. He’s not a happy camper.”

“Why?”

”You’ll hear for yourself.” She followed him
to his office and took a chair. He sat at his desk and accessed his
voicemail.

“Listen, David,” came the angry voice, “I’ve
been in this business a long time, and no one has ever threatened
me like you have! You’re mad that I did a great job for my client
on Capital Tower. So now you’re threatening me, trying to get your
way, and I
really
don’t like it. Just because you’re a giant
corporation doesn’t give you the right to push around a little guy
like me. I got the best price for our client, and that’s how
America works. You can’t threaten me and my family over a business
deal. It won’t work. So back off, or I’ll call my attorney.”

There was a long moment of silence. David
looked at Kristen. “Welcome back.”

Kristen asked, “Who would threaten him over
a building?”

“I don’t know. We certainly didn’t. I’ve
never heard of anything like that. At least not here in the States.
Maybe overseas.”

“Or the U.S. Congress. Remember what just
happened to the Sullivans—and to me.”

“I hadn’t thought about that. You’re
right.”

Rising, she added, “There
is
a lot of
money involved, David. I can see how someone could be really mad at
Mr. Porter.”

“And the fact that there appears no way for
the legal process to intervene. I guess that might anger one of the
other bidders.”

“But who?” Kristen started for the door.

David shrugged. “Hopefully Bill will sort it
out. Kristen, wait a minute. Let’s talk. Close the door,
please.”

She did as he asked and took her chair
again.

“Kristen, look, I’m glad you’re back, but I
hadn’t planned on Porter’s call to be our first conversation.”

She continued to look at him, waiting.

“We’ve obviously got a lot to go over. I
want to hear about the office space in D.C., catch up on the Far
East, and brief you before I leave for Moscow. But right now I just
want to ask you to cool it when it comes to remarks about Knox, or
the Media Bill, or any of that stuff.”

She looked both surprised and relieved, then
asked, “Why? Can’t I have opinions?”

“Sure. Of course. I mean in public. Like the
interview you did with that reporter. You know that Knox doesn’t
like it when employees contradict him.”

She gave an expression of disbelief. “But
I’m only a lowly real estate exec. I think I said so.
Way
down the USNet food chain. The reporter asked my opinion, and I
gave it. David, do
you
think we ought to be making porn
films at USNet? Does that give you a sense of pride in our
company?”

He looked away and paused.

“Kristen,” he spoke slowly, “have all the
opinions you want. Tell them to your friends. Tell me. But please
don’t talk to any more reporters about them. OK?”

She continued to look at him. “Is this
message from Knox?”

“
This
message is from
me
.”

More silence. Finally, she said, “Well, for
the moment I’ll agree. But I may want to talk with you about it
once I think a bit. I doubt I’ll have too many reporters calling me
again, anyway.” She smiled.

He returned her smile. “Thank you.” He rose.
“Now, we both have a lot to do.”

She stood. As they moved to the door and he
opened it for her, she asked, “Is there anything we ought to do
about Porter?”

“I can’t think of anything.”

“Me either. Maybe call Terrell Myers and
tell him?”

“Sure. See you at our meeting after lunch. I
hope you’re able to dig out.”

Elizabeth Sawyer finished her sandwich. She
had nibbled on it for an hour while sitting in their family room
making calls for the upcoming tenth grade spring dance. The thought
of a high school dance seemed soothingly “normal,” compared to the
daily reality that caused her stomach to churn whenever she thought
about their children, which was several times every hour.

She had asked David to take some action on
Rob. But so far, other than to talk briefly with her, he had done
nothing.
If he isn’t going to do anything about Rob, I’m not
going to ostracize Callie
. Elizabeth put down the student
directory, picked up her personal phone book and dialed.

“Hello.”

“Callie? Were you asleep?”

“Huh? Oh…Hi, Mom…Yeah…uh…try-outs this week.
I studied late.”

“I’m sorry, honey. It’s just good to hear
you. How are you?”

“Um, I’m fine. Fine. How are you?”

“We’re OK. Just calling around to the
parents about Rob’s spring dance in early May. How are your
classes?”

“They’re good. Like I said, auditions are
coming up.”

“Callie, Dad told me about Alex and that
you’re living together.”

Silence. Then, “Yes, we are. We love each
other.”

“Enough to get married?”

“Mom, we’re not ready for that yet. People
today don’t have to get married to live together. Dad acts like
it’s something awful. Everyone does it.”

Silence. Then, “Your father is still pretty
traditional, and I guess I am, too. We just want the best for you,
Callie, and besides the obvious issue of having a baby, Dad says
that Alex has no job and no money. How are you going to support
yourselves?”

“You mean now that Dad has cut us off ?”

“I think he would say that he never intended
to support ‘us’. Only you.”

“Whatever. We’ll do it somehow.”

“He didn’t want me to call you for a while,
but I’m not going to stop talking to you over any issue.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“And I’ll try to send some money.”

“No, don’t cross Dad like that. We’ll figure
it out. We’re already talking about some ways to make extra money.
In fact, Uncle Rezza is going to let me work part time at his
office, and Yusef is going to teach me about selling homes.”

“OK. Good. I may not mention that quite yet
to your father. Now, tell me more about Alex.”

Victor Mustafin was on duty that afternoon,
and he had never seen his employer so angry. Following his prayers,
Knox had been exercising in the private gym in his office when
Mustafin paged him from his duty station. Knox had immediately
called from the gym’s video panel, and Mustafin had told him about
the House vote an hour earlier to approve President Harper’s media
bill Turning red, Knox yelled into the screen on the wall of his
gym, “Find Akbar and get us all on a videoconference together.”

Thirty minutes later the two RTI specialists
were on split screens on the videoconference set in Knox’s
conference room; he still wore his gym clothes and carried a towel
around his neck.

“You said that our unique assets could stop
this pseudo-Christian morality crap,” he said quietly, looking from
one to the other. “And that we could then use the same approach on
future votes.”

Akbar Kamali finally replied. “We applied
pressure wherever we could, plus the usual media spins through our
people. In many cases it worked. In a few it didn’t. It was a close
vote, Mr. Knox.”

“And in some cases it backfired completely,
like that Congresswoman Sullivan.”

The two lieutenants nodded and waited. Knox
leaned forward toward them.

“Can we stop them in the Senate?”

Mustafin took his turn. “Probably not. We
can hope for some amendments from our friends to water it down, but
in general the Senate is pretty conservative on social issues.”

Knox stood and walked over to the window,
then returned to stand next to the table, glaring at his
subordinates on the screen. “I will not let these self-proclaimed
saviors stop what we’ve spent years building. Americans
want
this stuff. It all comes from allowing their women to live with no
modesty, and to mix with men every day. They
want
to
experience sex and violence and everything else we give them. Their
teenagers love it. We’ve had free access to them for years—right in
their homes—pushing all this. And it’s working. Of course it ruins
families! That’s exactly what we want to happen. It’s also very
profitable. Only now President Harper wants to take it away. We
cannot let her!”

He paused, then continued, his right index
finger tapping on the table as he spoke. “They think they’re God’s
Christian Crusaders for America. Today it’s movies and television.
Next they’ll push their agenda back into education. Then even
politics and government. Soon they’ll be trying to export their
ideas to other countries, like this new President Temirov in
Russia. Those two are talking about having a summit this summer,
and the first item on the agenda is supposed to be how to improve
morality in both countries. Can you believe that?” Again he paused.
“We
cannot
let this happen!” They waited.

Finally he sat down, looked at each man, and
then asked, almost in a whisper, “I was going to ask this at our
next meeting, but instead I’ll say it today—is there any way to get
rid of President Harper?”

Kamali and Mustafin were silent, absorbing
the full meaning of Knox’s question.

“She’s a throwback Crusader, an infidel, and
a
woman
. Think how much more effective our work will be if
she is gone and the country is confused and on edge. The vice
president is weak, and if we can somehow get rid of him, too,
imagine the Speaker as President! There will be political
chaos—fertile ground for more attacks. I’m asking you again, is
there any way to get rid of President Harper—and soon?”

“There must be, of course.” Mustafin
answered vaguely. “She is so well guarded, though.”

“I know. But isn’t the Secret Service mostly
looking for a gunman or a sniper or a car bomb?”

“Yes,” Kamali replied.

“And with all of our technology, isn’t there
some way—or ways—to go around what they’re looking for and take her
out? I mean poisons, or lasers, or robots, or missiles?”

Warming to the question, Kamali responded,
“Yes, I’m sure there is. We’ve just never thought about it.”

“Well, start,” Knox snapped, leaning back in
his chair. “What about one of Salim’s Stinger missile martyrs from
the Army, firing at Air Force One when it takes off ?”

“Unlike commercial airliners, Air Force One
has flares that may throw off a heat seeking missile.”

“How would NovySvet’s new technology work on
Air Force One?”

“In a year or two. It’s not yet perfected
against fast moving targets.”

“We can’t wait that long. Take the time you
need to get it right. Figure out a plan or plans. If you have to
involve anyone else, obviously mask the real objective. Get back to
me. And it should not only be foolproof, but untraceable, of
course.”

Mustafin and Kamali said nothing. Knox
continued. “We must get rid of this meddling President before she
does serious damage to our plans for America.”

Knox stood up, and Kamali said, “Mr. Knox,
I’m sure we can do it. But it will be quite a challenge.”

“That’s why I have the two of you. We’ve got
our usual quarterly review coming up in about ten days. I want to
be able to brainstorm some specific solutions then.”

Knox sat down again and raised his hand.
“Oh, and that real estate guy who’s trying to steal fifty million
from us. What’s his name? Porter. If there’s no response to your
message by next week, go ahead and get rid of him. Allah abhors
thieves.”

When Kristen returned from a quick sandwich,
she noted a strange look on Trish’s face. As she neared her
assistant’s desk, Trish said, “I almost just put your phone on
voice mail and went to lunch myself, but instead I have these.” She
held up a stack of message slips. She smiled. “And I think there
are at least ten more who asked to leave voice mails. What have you
been doing since I saw you an hour ago?”

“I guess you missed the news,” Kristen said,
taking the stack of message slips.

“I guess so.”