Enemy In the Room (46 page)

Now it was a little after eleven on Saturday
night, and they were in their beds with the light on, reading
magazines they’d bought on the road. Callie spoke. “Kristen, thank
you so much for coming out here. I really enjoyed today.”

“Me, too. That’s a great car.”

Callie smiled. “Yes. It’s fun. Thank you for
driving.”

“No problem. Now let’s get some sleep and
maybe we’ll drive some more tomorrow. Or just stay here. We’ll
see.”

“Yes. Fine. Good night.”

Kristen switched off the lamp. “Good
night.”

A few hours later David came down the
elevator into the hotel lobby and greeted Trevor Knox.

Trevor smiled as they shook hands. “David,
you of course know Akbar Kamali. I’ve asked him to help us on this
project, for security.”

David shook hands with his colleague, who
smiled and said, “Thanks for that security report. Our team is
looking at it. We should hear something after the Fourth.”

“Uh, good,” was all that David could think
to say.

Soon the three of them, plus Peter Goncharov
were seated in the hotel dining room for Sunday brunch. There was a
huge spread of food arranged in a buffet along one wall in the
large ornate room with high ceilings, parquet floors and plush red
velvet trim on all the furniture.

“This looks wonderful,” Knox said.

“Yes, a Moscow tradition. Or at least a new
Moscow tradition,” Peter said.

After they helped themselves at the buffet
tables, Peter and David briefed the other two on every aspect of
the preparations for the reception.

“So everyone must be inside our building and
up on the second floor by five-twenty, when they’ll cordon off the
compound,” David concluded. “Mr. Knox, you and Peter will greet the
two Presidents at the entrance and escort them up. We think it will
all go pretty smoothly.”

“It sounds like you’ve thought of
everything,” Knox said, finishing his eggs. “I’m looking forward to
seeing our new space.”

“We’re going there right after lunch,” Peter
said. “Now I have to check with the front desk about our Kremlin
passes for later this afternoon. President Temirov himself is
giving them to you, and they include access to ancient rooms that
are usually not open to visitors.”

Knox smiled. “I’m indeed honored. I’ll thank
him tomorrow at the reception.”

Peter stood. “So, excuse me. I’ll be back in
a few minutes.”

After he left, David took a sip of water and
looked at Knox. He could feel his heart begin to accelerate and
sweat on his forehead. He decided to go ahead. “Trevor, I need to
talk to you about taking some time off.”

Knox frowned. “Now? Here? Today?”

“I understand. But this can’t wait, and I
don’t know when I’ll see you alone again. Our son Rob has been in a
bad wreck. Elizabeth is still at the hospital. It’s connected to
the internet. Actually to using our USNet internet games.” He could
see the frown deepen on Knox’s face. Kamali’s expression had not
changed.

He looked at Knox. “There are two things.
First, I need to get home as soon as I can after the reception. I
wondered if I could fly with you to the U.S., or at least to
Western Europe, when we finish tomorrow night. The second thing is
that I think I need some time off. I mean, like a sabbatical, to be
home with my family and try to straighten out whatever is causing
this to happen.”

Knox glanced quickly at Kamali, then back to
Sawyer. “I’m sorry to hear about your son. But how long are you
talking about?”

David took another sip of water. “At least a
month. Maybe two. I’m not sure.”

“Two months? David, believe me,
all
kids have problems and you’ve got a lot of important projects
underway, like in L.A., where you are the key to our success. Two
months? We need you now. So I wouldn’t think about two months. You
certainly can ride back with us tomorrow night, visit with your son
until the end of the week, and then come back to work next Monday.
That should be more than enough time. Won’t that work?”

“Uh, maybe.”

“And you don’t want a sabbatical from your
pay, do you?’ Knox smiled.

David looked down at the water glass in his
hand. “No.”

“So it won’t do your family any good for you
to take off. The best thing you can do for them is keep your job
and your income.”

David could see Peter returning out of the
corner of his eye. “All right. I’ll take the end of this week off.
And I’ll tell Elizabeth that I’m flying home with you. Thank
you.”

Peter walked up. “The Kremlin tour is set
for three. So would you like to see our new offices now, Mr.
Knox?”

“Yes, fine.” He put down his napkin and they
stood up. “Excellent brunch.”

As they walked through the hotel lobby on
the way to Peter’s car, David’s cell phone rang again.

“Hello,” he said. Turning to his colleagues,
he said. “It’s Elizabeth. Give me just a minute.” They nodded.

“I’ll get the car,” said Peter.

David walked a few paces away toward the
large glass windows at the front of the hotel. He turned there to
face back into the lobby and saw Knox and Kamali looking at him and
talking.

“How’s Rob now?”

Her voice was heavy from exhaustion. “He’s
stable. They want to observe him for possible internal bleeding.
We’re in a room now, David. It’s almost five in the morning. He’s
knocked out, and I’m going to try to sleep for a little while in a
chair in his room. Paul just left to go home. He’s been great. It’s
been a long night.”

“Yes, I’m glad Rob’s better, or at least
stable. Listen, I’m with Trevor, and he offered to let me ride home
with him in the corporate jet, so I might be home very late
tomorrow night or Tuesday morning.”

“Whatever.” He could tell she was too tired
to argue.

“All right. Well, call me again when there’s
news. And I’ll call you when I know my schedule.”

“Good. I’m so tired. We’ll talk later.”

“Get some sleep. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

David surprised himself with the next
thought.
Thank you, God
. He switched off the phone and
walked over to Knox and Kamali.

“Is he better?” Trevor asked.

“Yes, Elizabeth said he’s stable.”

Knox smiled. “Good. See, I told you. All
kids go through these things. Nothing to worry about. He’ll be
fine.”

“I hope so.”

They walked out of the hotel to Peter’s car,
then headed for the USNet office.

“We know about Morad. Who do you think told
us about your trip to Turkey?”

“Morad would not speak to you.”

Omid was seated at a metal table in a
windowless room at the police headquarters in Tabriz. The three men
in suits were around the table—the tall one directly across, a
heavyset man to Omid’s right, and a younger man to his left. All
three smiled. “It may not have been voluntary,” the leader
added.

Omid stared at him.

“We know about your websites and about your
friends. We know that your wife may be in Turkey, but we have
friends there as well. In fact, we know just about everything about
you and what you have been doing for the past two years. How you
have been trying to overthrow the rightful government leaders whom
Allah has chosen to confront and punish all infidels and crusaders
with his justice.”

“If you know all of that, then why are you
interrogating me?”

“Who said that we are interrogating
you?”

Again Omid stared.

“We like to give people like you a chance to
tell us more, to put some positive weights on the scales of Allah’s
justice, before you suffer your fate.”

“My fate?”

“Yes. We understand that you like democracy.
So we’ve decided to vote. Everyone who believes that this
traitorous scum should be punished today for his treason, raise
your hand.”

The three men smiled and raised their
hands.

“Noted. I’m afraid that democracy didn’t
work for you this time.”

Omid looked from one to the other. “Some day
it will.”

Elizabeth was alone in the hospital room
with Rob, who was in bed with a leg cast and bandages on the side
of his head. Two drip bags provided nutrients and a pain killer.
Elizabeth was resting in a leather chair after the long night.

Rob opened his eyes. He saw his mother and
then looked around. He tried to move, but the pain stopped him.
“Ow,” he exclaimed.

Elizabeth immediately stood and put a hand
on his arm. “Hey. You had a tough night.”

“What happened to me?”

“Rob, you were in a wreck. You and Justin,
dear. Thank God you’re both OK.” She wiped a tear and held his hand
while she recounted what she knew, including his injuries, and the
process that the doctors expected to put him through. After she
answered his questions, she asked, ”Who is Leonard Tanner? He’s in
critical condition. Rob, who is he?”

Rob looked away. “A guy…we do StreetWar2100
together.”

“And what else?”

Rob spoke slowly. “What do you mean?”

“The police say he’s one of those guys who
lures young people in off the internet, offers them drugs, then,
once they’re hooked, sells to more kids through them. What have you
done with him?”

“Nothing.”

“Rob, I’m your mother. What have you done
with him?”

“Stuff.”

“What?”

“Nothing much. Like some beer and a few
pills. He’s got whacko friends.”

“In what way?”

“In
every
way!”

“Why did you do all that?”

“It was, like, fun.”

“You could be dead.”

“Looking at all of this I don’t think I’m
going to be doing much more any time soon.”

“And the people. The police say you’ll
probably be asked to testify against them—at least Tanner—if he
lives.”

“He’s my friend.”

“No he’s not. He’s a creep.”

“Mom, you don’t know him.”

“I know all I need to know.”

Callie awoke a few minutes after eight on
the California coast She slowly opened her eyes and saw the sun
streaming through white curtains around a window on the back side
of the cabin. She quietly looked around and was surprised to see
Kristen kneeling beside the other bed, facing her, with her eyes
closed. Her lips were moving. She was still wearing her long white
nightdress. Callie couldn’t make out what she was saying, but
obviously Kristen was having an intense dialogue.

She watched Kristen for several minutes.
Occasionally Kristen would open her eyes and read from a book that
lay open on the bed in front of her. Then she would pray some
more.

Finally Kristen finished, closed the book,
and started to get up. Callie propped up on one elbow and smiled.
“Good morning.”

“Oh. Hey. Good morning. How are you?”

“Fine. I slept like a log. Say, what were
you reading so early?”

Kristen smiled and picked up the book. “Oh,
the Bible. I read from it every morning. This morning I was reading
Ephesians. The last chapter. It’s about spiritual warfare. I
figured we needed it.”

Callie sat up. “What’s spiritual
warfare?”

“It’s the war that’s going on for our souls.
God versus Satan. Good against Evil. Satan wants us with him for
eternity, and God wants us with him. How we make decisions here
decides where we’ll be forever. Spiritual warfare is about the
angels and demons who are warring all around us, trying to get us
to make decisions that will take us to heaven or hell. And the best
way we can help fight the battle is through prayer.”

“You really believe all that?”

“Yes, I really do. Because I’ve experienced
both the pain of Satan’s way and the joy of God’s way in my own
life, and I know which one I want.”

Callie stood up in her oversized pink
T-shirt and turned toward the bathroom, continuing as she walked.
“That’s pretty heavy for before I’ve even washed my face. But I
have to admit that there is something different about you—something
my friends don’t have.” She started to shut the bathroom door. “I
thought it was just because you’re older, but maybe it
is
God. Wait a minute.”

When she returned, she propped up a pillow
and returned to bed. Kristen had opened the blinds on the front
window of the cabin and was sitting in a chair nearby. “Do you want
to go back to that same café for breakfast?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m hungry. But I want to ask you
about this God business. Do you
really
believe there’s a God
and that he really cares about us?”

Kristen pulled her knees up and put her arms
around them. “Yes. I know so. Look what he did for me—for Richard,
Janet, dozens of others I know. He changed me. I’ve told you what I
was doing, how I was hurting so many people. I had to arrive at the
end of myself before he could change me and use me.”

“The end of yourself ?”

“I had to have tried and failed in every way
I could imagine to run from God—I was focused only on me. When all
my own attempts at happiness failed, he could finally change me and
work in me.”

Callie frowned slightly. “Run from him?”

Kristen took a deep breath. “Yes. I think
it’s what you’ve been doing for a long time, too.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Callie, would you
really
like me to
watch one of your movies? Should we go to the internet and see one?
How would you feel about that?”

Callie looked down. “I…I don’t think I’d
like that.”

“How about if your parents watched? Or your
brother?”

She shook her head.

Kristen spoke slowly. “Then imagine that a
totally holy God exists and created you and wants the very best for
you. That he wants a relationship with you. That he wants to lift
you up and love you as his little girl. Unconditionally, no matter
what you’ve done. Would you like him to come to your taping
sessions?”