Enemy In the Room (12 page)

“Yes, as far as I can tell. But, listen,
what about the overruns in Chicago on that project you did for Data
Plus?”

“Not our fault. The city issued the drainage
permits and then revoked them for three months to study the site
again. In the end they didn’t change a thing. Insane. We couldn’t
help it.”

“Well, just be sure this one goes OK.”

“It will. No sweat. Hey, we’ll see you soon.
And give that Kristen a squeeze from all of us.”

Kristen checked her face in the compact a
final time, then opened the door of her office. Her assistant,
Trish, looked up from her work station and smiled. She stood and
hugged her boss. Kristen whispered, “Thank you.” As she backed
away, Trish handed her a fistful of message slips.

“I figure you need something to do.” Trish
smiled.

Kristen felt that everyone in the office was
looking at her, but she took a deep breath, nodded to Trish, and
started toward David’s office. As she walked, she leafed through
the stack in her hand and noticed a message from Bill Porter.

She knocked on David’s open door. He looked
up. “Can I buy you a sandwich?” she asked.

“How about a drink?” he replied. They both
smiled. “Actually, I have to meet a broker at Foster’s with a
possible tenant for our Channing Green space. But thanks. I saw the
interview. I’m sorry, particularly for the tape and all of that
personal stuff. It was tough.”

She looked down. “Yes, it was. I saw it,
too. But, like I said, we don’t often think through what we’re
doing, especially when we’re told that if it feels good we should
do it. They leave out the consequences part.”

“Kristen, you’re one of the best people and
best real estate executives I’ve ever known. I’m sure this will
blow over.”

She nodded. “Thanks. I feel like I’ve let
everyone down.”

“We’ll make it.” He paused. “I’ve got a
phone slip from Bill Porter. I hope it’s about Capital Tower and
not this mess. Shall we call him?”

“Yes.” He moved the phone. Standing in front
of the desk, Kristen pushed the button for the speaker and dialed
the number.

Porter came on the line and, after some
pleasantries with Sawyer, Porter said, “David, I don’t enjoy
telling you this, but your offer was not the highest. It was beaten
by another buyer.”

Kristen had been silent while the two men
talked, but now her eyes narrowed, and she slowly shook her head.
“Bill, this is Kristen. Listening to you, it just doesn’t make
sense. Do you or your firm have any connection to the winning
bid?”

“The money is foreign.”

“Fine. But do you or your firm have any
connection to the buyer?”

“Kristen, I can’t tell you who the buyer is.
I signed a non-disclosure agreement.”

“I’m not asking you to tell us who the buyer
is. We just want you to confirm who the buyer isn’t.”

“I can’t say.”

“Sure you can. Just confirm that it’s not
you. If you don’t, then we must assume that you
are
either
the buyer or part of the buying group.”

“Assume what you want. We have several
subsidiaries under our umbrella here. One is in development. I just
can’t say.”

Rising from his seat and leaning over the
speaker phone, David injected, “But, Bill, you are the
marketing
agent. You saw all the offers, including ours. You
could simply bid more. That is clearly unethical.”

“Even if what you say were true, my job is
to get the best price for the seller.”

Kristen added, “But not by misrepresenting
your role as both an agent and principal.”

“Think what you want, Kristen. I’m not
saying anything more until after the due diligence period.”

“Bill, if this is true, we will be
really
upset. And I’m sure it’s illegal, too.”

“Hey, looking at this morning’s news, you’re
in no position to judge anyone.”

Kristen turned in her chair and looked out
the window.

David spoke. “That has nothing to do with
this. Bill, one last time, are you the buyer or part of the buying
group?”

“No comment.”

“Then we’ll have to alert our attorney.”

“Go ahead, Sawyer. I’ve got nothing to hide.
I did the best possible for my client. Sue me if that’s what you
want.”

“It’s not what I want. But I also want to
know that the broker with whom I’m negotiating all the details of
my offer is not also a competitor.”

“Get a life. This is business.”

“Thanks, Bill. You’ve clearly been a great
help.”

“Go to hell, Sawyer. Sorry, Kristen. Good
luck to both of you.” The line went dead.

Kristen, still facing away, said in a
whisper, “It’s been a great morning.” She turned to him. “I’ve
always said that Bill doesn’t miss any chance to look out for Bill.
I hate to be cheated out of that building.”

“I’ll call Terrell at Glenn and Ashworth and
tell him what we think has happened. Hopefully he can propose a
solution.”

“That combination is so perfect for our
headquarters. It was a great idea, David. I’m sorry if I botched
it.”

“You didn’t botch it, Kristen. As you said,
it looks like Porter literally stole it from us by bidding more
than we did, once he knew our offer.”

“Well, on that note I’ll have a sandwich
with Todd and some of the guys”

“I’ll find out what we can do about Porter.
Now I’ve got to update Knox and Burke on all of this.”

“Thanks, David.”

Pavel Sivyakov had been sitting at the
kitchen table in their one bedroom apartment in Arzamas 23, a
“closed city” 500 km southwest of Moscow, for almost thirty
minutes. His wife and baby daughter were asleep. He nervously
strummed the table and sipped his beer. The caller was late.

When his cell phone rang, he jumped. The
caller did not introduce himself, but said, “I understand that you
have a special product for sale.”

Pavel started to speak, turned the phone
away, cleared his voice, and began again. “Yes. Three GoFor
prototypes. They are copies of the American Tomahawk Block IV
cruise missile. Plus one mobile ground launcher which carries all
of them.”

“What is the range?”

“1,800 kilometers.”

“How did you acquire them?”

“I work at the factory where we make them,
and these were declared ‘defective’ by my friend and supervisor,
Dmitri. We were supposed to destroy them, and the paperwork says
that we did.”

“But they are operational?”

“They are perfect.”

“How much?”

“Five million dollars, including the
launcher. Cash”

“We’ll take them.”

Pavel smiled for the first time. “How shall
we do it?”

“Where are they?”

“In the launcher. In a warehouse. We have
welded sides to the launcher to disguise it as a long-haul lorry.
It looks just like a thousand other trucks.”

“OK. I will call you back at the same time
tomorrow.”

“Good.”

The line went dead. Pavel took a pull on his
beer, then opened the refrigerator to get another.

Less than a minute later, their conversation
came up on an RTI screen.

Callie unlocked their apartment door and was
surprised to see it as she had left it that morning. She put her
book bag and laptop on the breakfast room table and went upstairs
to their bedroom. Alex was still in bed.

“You had an interview this morning,” she
said in a loud voice, shaking his foot.

“What? Oh.” He pulled the pillow from over
his head and rolled over. “I must have gone back to sleep.”

“Great. How are we going to make it if you
don’t get a job?”

He propped up on one elbow, looked at the
clock, and rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. I’ll call’em.”

She sat on the bed, looking out the window.
“I was coming home to tell you that my Uncle Reza said that I could
work ten hours a week in his real estate office. He’s always seemed
kind of stern and mean, actually, but if he’ll give me a job, I’ll
take it. They’ll pay me to do filing and help organize stuff on
their system. His son, Yusef—we used to call him Joseph, but he
changed it—is a few years older than me. He’s been back from the
Army a couple of years, and doing pretty well in the business. My
uncle said that I can shadow Yusef one day a week and learn all
about residential real estate.” She turned to him. “I figure in
California, that’s a good business to be in.”

“Yeah. That’s great.”

“But I can’t go to school full time and work
at my uncle’s office while you do nothing. Since you’re not in
school now, Alex, you’ve got to get a job.”

“I know. I will. I’ll call them in a few
minutes.”

“And we really don’t have the money to buy
booze and pills.”

“They’re not much, and they make us feel
good.” He picked up a pill bottle from the table and shook it,
moving towards her. “You like them as much as I do.”

She smiled but moved away. “Not now. Maybe
on the weekends. But first we have to pay the rent.”

“We will. Don’t worry. We will. And I’ve got
a plan to get some money.”

“What is it?”

“Give me a couple of days.”

She turned her head slightly. “It better be
legal.”

He nodded. “It is. Trust me. A couple of
days.”

After lunch David had finished his report on
the Los Angeles studios and gave Paul Burke an impromptu briefing
on the project, as well as on Kristen’s situation and Bill Porter’s
seeming theft of their purchase. Burke concurred that they should
seek legal advice.

Other than a gulped breakfast that morning,
David had not seen Elizabeth or Rob since the previous Tuesday,
before his trip to Los Angeles, so he was glad to pack his laptop
at five o’clock and head home early.

“Hi, again.” He smiled as he came in the
kitchen door.

Elizabeth put the day’s mail on the center
island and returned his smile. “Hi yourself. Do you live here?”

He stepped over and hugged her tightly. “I
think so. At least I have some vague recollection. This time,
though, I hope to spend a little more time. Maybe even chew my
food.”

“Good, because we’re having steak on the
grill. You’re cooking.”

He leaned back. “Sounds superb. Where’s
Rob?”

She glanced upstairs and frowned. “Where
else?”

“Did I ever tell you that you’re
beautiful?”

“Only after long trips.”

‘Come on.” He smiled. “You know I’m better
than that. You’re
always
beautiful.” He walked to the
refrigerator. “How did Rob do on his European history test?”

“He barely passed. Don’t you think we
should…?”

David raised his hand. “Yes, but later. Let
me change clothes and start the grill. Then we can talk. OK?”

She smiled. “Sure.” Then her expression
changed. “What is all this news about Kristen Holloway and some
Congresswoman’s husband?”

“Soon,” he said, as he walked toward their
bedroom.

Twenty minutes later they were seated next
to each other on their outdoor patio, the spring evening inviting
them outside with the fragrances of dogwood and azaleas, and a hint
of warmer days to come. David had changed into khaki pants and a
knit shirt.

“I had no idea when I left this morning that
we would spend much of the day on Kristen’s affair with Richard
Sullivan.”

David told Elizabeth as much as he knew
about Kristen’s history. “How would you react to the news if you
were Janet Sullivan?” he asked her.

“I’d probably kill Kristen. And of course my
husband. Can wives get away with that in Iran today? Or would the
next woman just move in as a younger wife, sort of a relief pitcher
for the husband’s later innings?” Elizabeth smiled, and he
grimaced.

“Maybe we should move over there and take up
baseball. Sounds interesting.”

“No thanks. Team building has its limits,
and I draw the line at the front door. Anyway,” she went on,
turning serious, “it was those
tapes
they’re playing every
hour on the news. It would be bad enough to find out that your
husband had been having an affair, even years ago. But when I heard
those taped conversations today, it was like ‘now’, you know? The
two of them sounded so happy. That would
really
hurt.” She
took a sip from her glass and set it down on the armrest of her
chair. “Especially after all the things Janet Sullivan has said
about morality and the family.”

David turned to his wife. “Kristen says that
all three of them have changed. And that Janet forgave them several
years ago.”

Elizabeth paused then said more slowly. “Is
that possible? Do you think that people can really change?”

“I didn’t know her then, but she seems
completely different from the voice on those tapes.”

“How does someone change that much?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. In Kristen’s
case, I think it’s her faith.”

“Hmm. We don’t do much in that area, do
we?”

David was silent.

“Sally Schofield at work invited me to a
Bible study at her home next week,” she continued, “and I thought I
might go. Just to get back in touch. I like some of the other
women. What do you think?”

David took a sip of his drink and looked out
across the backyard. “That would be fine. Why not?” He took a deep
breath. “Now, I have some news closer to home that’s not good.” He
told her about his meeting with Callie and Alex, and about their
living arrangement. He did not mention their internet posting. As
Elizabeth’s face registered her dismay, he ended with “Did you have
any idea that they were living together?”

“No. I knew she was excited about him and
wanted us to meet him, but not that they were living together.”

“Well, they are. And I told her that we
could not support her if that is her choice.”

“You mean, cut her off financially?”

“Yes, and in every other way.”