Enemy In the Room (18 page)

“Almost two weeks. Our one success was
finding the software company to invest in. I think we were one of
the first joint ventures, and we’re still going strong today. Now
we need more space. By the way, can we start our tour in the
morning?”

Andrei buttered a piece of bread. “Well, we
could, but my family goes to church on Sunday morning, so I’d like
to pick you up about one, which will give us plenty of time. We’d
love for you to join us at church, by the way, or you can walk to
many interesting places from here.”

“That’s OK,” David said, as their soup
arrived. “My family came from Iran, where they were Muslims, though
I don’t practice any religion myself. My wife grew up in a
Christian family, but she doesn’t attend, either. So please go to
church with your family, and I’ll walk around Red Square and meet
you here at one.”

“What about your two children?”

“What do you mean?”

“Religion. Faith. Do you teach them any
beliefs?”

“Well, we teach them to be good people, of
course. But we think all religions are about the same. Different
ways to the same place—or to no place.” David smiled.

“How do they know what’s right from what’s
wrong?”

“We’ve taught them to respect other people,
and to help others. I think people generally just know, and we’ve
tried to emphasize examples of good and bad behavior. ”

“I see.” Andrei returned his smile, and they
dug into their food.

Several hours of walking through the museum
later, David was ready for an early night. He said good-bye to
Andrei at six, had a solo meal in the hotel restaurant, checked in
with Elizabeth, and then walked up to Red Square. The sun was
setting and couples were walking arm-in-arm through the square that
had witnessed almost a millennium of sometimes violent history, and
yet that night it was nearly silent, and peaceful.

While her father was sleeping in Moscow,
Callie Sawyer, after two glasses of wine, agreed with her boyfriend
that two thousand dollars was too much to pass up, and they made
plans to cash in that night.

David and Andrei were joined on Sunday
afternoon by Peter Goncharov, USNet’s local manager. Fifty, tall,
and a former engineer in the army, Peter had transitioned well to
private enterprise; USNet trusted his judgment on all operational
issues.

As they drove around Moscow looking at the
properties that might fit USNet’s needs, David was impressed with
how precisely the city’s road system matched a hub with spokes. The
Kremlin was at the center, with spokes radiating out to the Outer
Ring, an average distance of twenty kilometers. In between there
were two other full rings: the Garden Ring and the Third Ring,
recently completed by the city government atop the right-of-way of
an old railroad line.

By the time they finished and headed to a
local Georgian restaurant for dinner, they agreed to focus on three
key properties to negotiate the best space and terms for their
use.

They were seated at a table in a small room
with high ceilings and ancient wooden beams. After they ordered,
Peter asked, “Andrei, are the owners of these three properties all
honest and reliable?”

“For the most part, yes. Two are joint
ventures between local Russians and Western partners. We’ve put
tenants in all of them with good success.”

“What about bribes? Obviously we can’t be
involved with any bribes.”

Andrei smiled. “Despite what you hear,
they’re rare, at least at this level.” He noticed the skeptical
look on David’s face. “Oh, I’m sure that to get the building built,
utilities connected, permits issued, that sort of thing, some
special considerations were asked and given. The Russian partner
usually takes care of that, but these days it’s pretty small
stuff.”

“You’d think from the press that nothing
gets done here without a bribe.”

“And you’d think from the press that every
child in an American school is in danger of being shot by a sniper
or schoolmate.”

David nodded. “Yes, I guess the media does
tend to pigeon-hole all of us with ten-second summaries.”

Peter spoke up. “The reality is that some
things certainly are done or expedited here with bribes, which
sadly is true in most of the world, not just in Russia. But it’s
more like an old boy network, where people over time develop
relationships by doing favors for each other. It came right out of
the Soviet system. Since there were no prices back then for
anything, the only way anything ever got done was through personal
relationships, keeping score of who owed you and whom you
owed.”

“I hadn’t realized that.”

Andrei added, “But now the market has
encroached, and decisions are made by a combination of price and
relationships.”

David reflected for a moment. “A little like
the States, really.”

“I couldn’t be sure, since I’ve only worked
here. But probably you’re right.”

When David returned to his room that night
there were two messages from Elizabeth on the hotel voicemail,
urging him to call home. He fixed a drink at the mini-bar, sat on
the bed, dialed their home number, and listened to his wife talk
almost without interruption for three minutes. As she spoke about
their son, he closed his eyes and grimaced several times, then made
notes on the pad by his bed.

They spoke for a few more minutes, and he
asked her to put Rob on the line. She put the phone down, and he
could hear her walk upstairs, with music playing in the background.
Then it stopped, and a minute later he heard noise near the
receiver.

“Hello.”

“Rob. Hey, how are you?”

“Uh. Fine.”

“I’d like to bring you over here someday.
It’s a lot different than most people think.”

“Mm.”

“Rob, Mom tells me that you were up ‘til
three this morning—or even later. On the internet, playing those
games.”

“Mm.”

“Son, listen. We told you that we’re going
to have to make changes if you don’t get off that stuff—have a more
regular life. And I’m asking you to stop doing those games. There’s
more to life than—.”

“Dad, I know that. But I
like
these
games. I’ve got
friends
out there. Better friends than at
school. I can’t just cut them off. It’s not right.”

“But, Rob, you need balance. And real
friends. Not just friends on the internet.”

“These
are
real friends. Real people.
They’re just not here. But they
are
real.”

“Rob, you only play internet games with
them, wherever they are and whoever they are. You don’t talk, do
homework, go to movies, listen to music.”

“So what? We’re close. Like in combat, I
guess.”

David could feel his anger rising, but he
tried to hold it down. “Rob, you’re fifteen. I’m your father. I’m
telling you that there’s more to life than internet games, no
matter how real they are. You’ve got to break away from
this—this—addiction. It’s wrong. And get your head back into
school, friends, girls.”

“Hey, Dad, I could be ‘addicted’ to a lot
worse things than the internet.”

David was silent for a moment and took a
deep breath. “I know. And I’m thankful, Rob, that you’re not. But
any
addiction is not good. It limits you… changes you.”

“Well, I think you’re wrong about these
games.”

They talked for five minutes, and finally
Rob agreed to only an hour of games a day until David came home.
Then Elizabeth came back on the line.

“He’s gone upstairs.”

“He agreed to one hour until I get home and
we can all talk together.”

“He needs to do
none
, David.”

“Elizabeth, I know. But for now, this is OK.
Please watch him and be sure that he does as we’ve agreed.”

A long pause. “David, I’ll try, but
sometimes I’m not home…”

“Do the best you can. He promised, so we’ll
have to trust him.”

“We’ll see.”

“Elizabeth, I love you, and I’m sorry that
this is happening while I’m away.”

“I love you, too, but I’m just very worried
about our son. And the daughter that we’ve cut off.”

“She chose to cut herself off.”

“Let’s not talk about that again until you
get home. Sleep well and travel safe, dear.”

“Thanks. I love you.”

David hung up the phone, stood up, and
walked again to the mini-bar, where he poured himself another
drink. Swallowing half of it in one gulp, he thought,
What’s
happened to Rob? And to Callie, for God’s sake? They were just kids
a couple of years ago. Rob still is. We’ve done everything for
them
.

He refilled his glass and sat in a gold
armchair in the corner of his hotel room.
What was it Andrei
asked? “How do they know what’s right from what’s wrong?” How can
they not know? We haven’t pushed the Qur’an or the Bible on them.
But we’ve tried to be good people ourselves, and we’ve taught them
to be tolerant and to respect others. Surely they can figure out
right and wrong. Callie and Rob are bright. They should
know.

Only a few kilometers from David’s hotel,
Simon North and Yevgany Beleborodov were finishing their late night
planning at the dinner table in the general’s apartment. His wife
was visiting their son and his family in Novgorod.

“So I think all of the pieces are in place
to move this week,” North summarized, looking at the papers in
front of him. “I like the sound of your Captain Rusnak.”

“Yes, he’s a good man. A true patriot. Not
afraid to do whatever needs to be done for the motherland. And,
quite happily, stationed only twenty kilometers from
Arzamus-23.”

“It appears that it is time to call Mr.
Sivyakov.”

“Agreed. He will either be in his apartment,
or in the warehouse with his friends.” Beleborodov dialed the cell
phone number which North had brought with him in the packet from
London. After a few rings the phone answered with what sounded like
an annoyed response to a wrong number.

The general spoke in Russian. “Mr. Sivyakov,
good evening. No, this is not a wrong number. I want to talk with
you for a moment. Do you have time? Are you in your apartment, or
at the warehouse?”

“Who is this?”

“Never mind. That’s not important. The point
is that we know about your special product, and we would like to
buy it. How much will you sell it for?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

“Of course you do. And I can hear the work
going on now in the background, perfecting the exterior of the
carrier.”

There was silence, and a moment later the
noises stopped. “Why should I stay on the line with you?”

“Because I’m going to save you from a
terrible fate. The people to whom you think you are selling your
product are actually with the police, and when you meet in ten
days, as you have planned, they will either arrest you or kill
you.”

More silence.

“But the good news is that we are not the
police, and we will match their offer in cash and take the product
off your hands in a few days, giving you the means and the time for
you and your friends to leave the country. With your families.”

More silence.

“I tell you what. You and your team talk
about it for ten minutes, and I’ll call you back. We hope that you
will take us up on the lifeline that we are offering you. The
alternative for you is bleak. I will call you back.” Then
Belebordov hung up.

MONDAY, MAY 2ND

That Monday morning, while David was in
Moscow, Kristen stopped by Todd’s office. The door was open, and
she took a step inside. He had a spreadsheet open on his computer,
which sat at the far corner of the credenza behind his desk. He
swiveled around on his chair when she entered.

She smiled and spoke. “Hey. I guess you
heard the voicemail from David at the airport on Friday asking me
to review the analysis of Brookglen versus Overlook.”

Todd opened both hands towards her and
returned her smile. “A great idea, I guess, but I accepted
Brookglen’s proposal that afternoon.”

Kristen frowned. “David was here early
Friday morning. Did you run it past him?”

“No, actually I didn’t. He put me in charge
of the project, so I assumed that meant I could make the
decision.”

“Well, yes, one of us is always the leader,
but we usually check our work with each other, and certainly with
David, before making a big commitment.”

Todd looked down at the papers spread in
front of him and clenched his fists on the desktop. “Brookglen was
the clear choice. It’s the better project. End of discussion.” He
looked up at her.

In a calm voice Kristen said, “I recall you
saying two weeks ago that the Brookglen rent started out at only
thirty-two dollars per square foot but increased fairly quickly in
the third through seventh years. Did the present value come out
better than Overlook’s almost flat rent of thirty-four dollars over
the entire term?”

Todd pursed his lips and said, “Yes, of
course.”

“What discount rate did you use?”

He stood. “I don’t remember exactly. And it
doesn’t matter. Brookglen is better: the floor plates are larger
and there’s more parking.”

“But Overlook’s parking is in an enclosed
deck, isn’t it? That will be important in Minneapolis, I would
think.”

“Look—I told you, I’ve already made the
decision and accepted Brookglen’s proposal. I’m sorry that I’m not
perfect, remembering always to check with everyone and praying for
the best rental rates. I did what I thought was best.”

She shook her head, and her auburn hair
moved just a bit. “Todd, there’s no reason to say that. Do you
think that I think I’m perfect?”

He took a deep breath. “No, Kristen, I
don’t. I’m sorry. But I don’t like being second-guessed when I’ve
been put in charge of a project.”