Enemy In the Room (44 page)

“Did she ever tell you?”

“Not really. I think she was from
Dallas—parents divorced.”

“Did they question you?”

“Yeah. When Alex was still in Mexico, he
told me just to say that I couldn’t remember anything, like about
the drugs.”

“And that’s what you said?”

“Yeah. They seemed OK. They said they’d call
me if they needed anything else.” She paused and looked at Kristen.
“I…I’m so glad you came. Like Jane was just here and now
she’s—Kristen, it could so easily have been
me
.”

She started to cry again. Kristen gently
pushed Callie’s feet to the floor, then slid over beside her. She
took Callie’s head and laid it between her breast and shoulder, and
hugged her tightly.

David was one hour and two drinks into his
Moscow flight that evening.
What have I done? I’ve driven Callie
off. I’ve let Rob live in another world that he now prefers to real
life, though maybe there’s hope. I should have listened to
Elizabeth about both kids. I’m a great father.

I fired Kristen, the best real estate person
I’ve ever worked with, to keep my job. I didn’t train Todd well
enough to turn down a bribe, and a major project is in trouble
because of it. And if Todd is telling the truth about the
intercepts and the violence, I’ve got to help him stop it, or else
go to the police. If Todd will take money, could he be lying about
all this to cover it up? It sounds unbelievable, but he’s obviously
scared. And if it’s true, then the company I’ve worked so hard for
all these years is somehow involved in all the messes I’ve made,
with my family and with my staff. I’m a great father and an even
better businessman…

“Let’s go for a walk,” Kristen said from a
chair across from the sofa. Callie had cried and finally fallen
asleep in her arms. Kristen let her sleep on the sofa for a couple
of hours.

Callie rubbed her face. “People don’t walk
much in this heat.”

“Well, then let’s go for a drive. Go
somewhere for dinner. Something.”

“I’d rather just stay here.”

Standing up and walking over to Callie,
Kristen smiled and said. “No. We need to get out. Let’s get cleaned
up and I’ll drive your car to somewhere outside the city for
dinner. We can find some fish tacos. Come on, sleepy head. Let’s go
before the traffic is terrible.”

Callie swung her feet to the floor. “The
traffic is always terrible. But I guess you’re right. OK, I’ll get
up.” She stood.

“Good.” Kristen looked at Callie. “Listen, I
didn’t ask you earlier. You said that you might be pregnant. Did
you find out?”

Callie looked down. “I didn’t want to take
the test alone. I put it in my room.”

“We’ll do it in the morning then.”

“I don’t really want to know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Uh, all right. We’ll do it in the morning.
But, Kristen, I—”

Kristen raised her hand. “Let’s get ready,
and we’ll talk about it as we drive.”

“OK.” Callie nodded, gave a small smile, and
turned to the bathroom.

When David’s flight arrived in Moscow on
Saturday morning, Peter Goncharov met him outside Customs, and they
drove southeast into the city. The news from Peter was good. Sales
were up, their new space was virtually finished, and the move-in
had begun the day before. Their internal preparations for the
Presidential reception were well on track: caterers, response
lists, parking, press releases, display photos from their first
days in Russia, decorations, security checks, corporate
information, etc.

“Tanya Prescott called yesterday. If you
feel up to it, after you check into your hotel and clean up, she
wants to meet us at three to drive the route from the Kremlin to
our new office and then review our joint security plans.”

“Sure,” David replied, his head a little
fuzzy but the adrenaline flowing. “That’s what I’m here for.”

They talked more about business and how
quickly Moscow’s real estate landscape was changing and improving.
When they arrived at the hotel, Peter had coffee in the lobby while
David unpacked and changed.

David had just unzipped his large bag when
his company cellphone rang. Expecting it to be Peter, he answered
without looking at the readout.

“Hello.”

“Cousin, it’s Omid. How are you?” His voice
was quiet but filled with excitement. Before David could answer, he
continued. “Our plans have changed, and I didn’t have time for
anyone to call you from Europe. Goli and I are in Tabriz at her
sister’s house, and we’re leaving in an hour for the border, which
we’ll cross tonight.”

“Omid, that’s great news, but…”

“So we’ll need help with the visas in
Istanbul in about a week. Will that be OK?”

“Uh, yes. I’m in Moscow right now, but I
should be home in a few days, and Elizabeth can wire money.”

“I think we’re all right with money. But the
visas.”

“I believe I know exactly who to call now.
But, Omid, please don’t call me on this phone. I’ll try calling you
later today from a different phone.”

“Yes, Cousin. Hopefully Goli can be in the
U.S. in a month or two, and I will follow right after. Thank
you.”

“Soon. Yes, very soon. Great news!”

A few hours later David and Peter were
standing outside the hotel, as arranged, when a large black SUV
with darkened windows pulled up, the front passenger door opened,
and Tanya jumped out. She ran around the front, smiling, shook
David’s hand, was introduced to Peter, and then ushered them into
the vehicle. As soon as the doors closed, her driver, a large
American, moved the SUV into the traffic.

Tanya turned in the front seat to face her
guests. “David, good to see you. How was your trip? Good.
Everything on our end is going well. President and Mr. Harper
arrived a little while ago and will spend the weekend with
President Temirov and his wife at the Presidential dacha—pretty
doggone secure. Then they’ll all come into the city late Sunday
afternoon for the conferences and state dinner on Monday, the
Fourth, at the Kremlin.” She pointed over her shoulder toward the
Kremlin, as they made their way south, only a few blocks east of
Red Square.

“We figure your reception will start at five
on Monday afternoon, last ‘til about six-thirty, and then they’ll
return to the Kremlin before heading out for the Fourth of July
celebration at Kuskovo Park. Now that’s going to be a security
nightmare, but both of them are determined to do it.”

David shook his head. “I’m glad I don’t have
to arrange all of that.”

“You get used to it. By the way, our people
tell me that your people have done a great job, which is why I’ve
waited this late to see the place myself. OK, here’s the bridge
across the Moscow River just southeast of the Kremlin, at the foot
of Red Square. I understand they’ll come out of that gate, turn
right, and head immediately across the bridge, then straight down
Bolshaya Ordinka to the site.” She nodded at her driver. “Let’s do
it.”

David looked out the window at the Kremlin
towers sparkling in the sunlight, and the ancient spires of St.
Basil’s Cathedral.

“Of course the presidential motorcade will
have escorts, sirens, and blocked side streets, so they should make
it pretty quickly,” Tanya said. They arrived at the office complex
in just three minutes. As they turned in, she saw several new two-
and five-story office buildings, surrounded by surface parking. It
was the site of an old factory, long since razed. Around them stood
older, taller apartment buildings.

“Just like the briefing said it would be.”
She nodded as they drove up to the building in the back left
corner. They got out, and she looked around. “How is there enough
parking here for all of these offices?”

“The entire complex is built on top of three
levels of underground parking,” Peter explained. “Comes in handy in
the winter.”

“I’ll bet. We’ll have to seal it off. The
tenants won’t like that.” She continued to look around, surveying
the taller surrounding structures, and then they went inside, where
they were met by the chief of USNet’s Russian security team. He
showed them the ground floor entrance and the stairs leading up to
the large open area where the reception would be held in two days.
A small raised stage was under construction along the back
wall.

Tanya nodded. “Looks good. Everyone will
need to be up in this room by five twenty-five, which is when we
expect the motorcade to arrive. Mr. Knox and the two of you, David
and Peter, will greet them at the front door and bring them up the
stairs, then around the right side of this room to the stage. Mr.
Knox will give an introduction from a podium that we’ll provide
tomorrow, and then both Presidents will speak with interpreters.
Afterwards they’ll do the ribbon cutting, and a slow walk out,
meeting and greeting the guests—and that’s it. Down the stairs,
into the motorcade, and back to the Kremlin. That was a one way
street coming south. The return is a one way street a block to the
east. Yes?”

Peter replied. “Another straight shot
back.”

Tanya smiled. “Good.” She looked around and
nodded at David. “Good work. Looks like it’ll be a piece of
cake.”

Early that evening Omid and Goli were having
coffee at an outdoor café in Bazargan, in northwest Iran on the
border with Turkey. Joining them was Goli’s brother-in-law, Hamid,
who had driven them from Tabriz. It was warm; Omid had the local
newspaper folded on the table to signal, as he had been instructed,
that everything was OK. Morad had organized the run across the
border, and they were waiting to meet the man who would lead them,
known as Jalil. An empty chair awaited him.

Goli was nervous, and Omid held her hand
beneath the table.

“You know what they told me,” she said,
under her breath.

“All the more reason to be here tonight.” He
smiled, and squeezed her hand.

“What if they find us?”

“They won’t. And how good it will be to be
free, and together.”

She gave him a small smile and nodded.

Hamid looked at his watch. “They should have
been here by now,” he said, and sipped his coffee. Clearly he was
not pleased to be part of this plan.

“Thank you, Hamid, for helping us,” Omid
said for the fifth time since they left Tabriz. Hamid nodded and
looked around.

A large man with a neatly trimmed beard
wearing traditional Azerbaijani work clothes approached the table
and sat down in the empty chair.

After he made the traditional greetings and
ordered a coffee, Jalil said, “Adding you has been done quickly,
and now there is a problem.” He shrugged.

“What is it?” Omid asked.

The waiter brought a coffee, and Jalil added
several packets of sugar.

He took a sip. “A client who has been set up
for several months showed up tonight with his grandmother, his only
living relative. We were not expecting her.”

“And?”

“And we have only eight empty crates in the
lorry, and we have paid bribes for eight people. We cannot take
nine.”

“One more person? How difficult can that be?
Can’t you just give them more money?”

Jalil shook his head and smiled. “I’ve been
doing this for fifteen years. There are a lot of people involved.
We cannot just pay cash at the border, my friend. Everything has to
be done correctly, if we are going to maintain this business.
Tonight, only eight can cross, and so I can take one of you, but
not both. The other can follow, probably in two days.”

“Then we should both stay,” Goli whispered
to Omid, her eyes large.

He thought for a moment. “You must go, Goli.
I will come to you in one or two days. You will be fine.” He turned
to Jalil. “She will be fine, yes? You have people in Turkey who can
look after her until I come?”

Jalil smiled again. “Yes, of course. This is
not the first time. We have a home where she can stay until you
come. She’ll be fine.”

“When do you leave?”

“Right now,” Jalil said, and drained his
cup.

“Then we should be going.” Omid signaled to
the waiter for their check.

Ten minutes later they were standing by an
old Volvo station wagon. A man and a woman were in the back seat,
but they turned away when the three new people approached with
Jalil.

Goli clung to Omid. “I don’t want to go
alone. I want us to be together,” she said, her mouth pressed to
his ear.

“Yes, me, too. But it’s too dangerous here.
You will be safe. You have your cell phone. Call me, or even call
Elizabeth if you are worried. I’ll see you in two days.”

“Omid, I love you.” She hugged him
tightly.

“And I love you. You are everything to me.
That’s why I want you to be safe.”

They hugged tightly, and Jalil started the
car.

Omid walked Goli to the passenger seat,
squeezed her hand and closed the door.

“See you in two days,” he said, and the car
drove off.

Omid and Hamid walked to Hamid’s car. As
they started back to Tabriz, Omid’s phone rang.

“Cousin,” he said in a subdued voice. “It’s
good to hear you again.”

Five minutes later Omid had explained the
new situation to David, and David promised to begin the process
with the State Department for asylum for both of them.

“I’ll call you again tomorrow,” David said.
“Be safe, and we’ll see you soon.”

While David was heading to bed in Moscow,
his daughter emerged from her bathroom in Los Angeles, where it was
eleven hours earlier that Saturday morning. She was wearing a light
summer robe. Kristen was on the sofa in shorts sipping coffee and
reading a book. She looked up. Callie walked over to her and handed
her the reader. “I’m pregnant.”

Kristen took a deep breath and nodded.
Touching the sofa next to her, she said. “Here. Sit down.” Alex was
still asleep in their bedroom.