Enemy In the Room (21 page)

He went back to bed, but for the next two
hours, he checked the clock about every fifteen minutes, thinking
of Callie and his family.
I can’t tell Elizabeth about this. It
would kill her. But maybe now she’ll understand why we have to be
tough with Callie. What if a family member in L.A. saw it?

His racing mind tripped over the fact that
L.A. was eleven hours behind Moscow, so it would be afternoon
there. He sat up in bed and turned on the bedside lamp. After
thinking for another moment, he got up, washed his face and picked
up his handheld. Shortly he was dialing Callie’s cell phone from
his bed.

He was never optimistic with her mobile
phone, but on the third ring she answered.

“Hello,” said his daughter’s voice, somewhat
questioningly. David was not sure whether her digital readout would
register a call from Russia.

“Hey, Callie. It’s Dad.”

“Oh. Where are you?”

“Actually I’m in Moscow—though I’ll be
leaving for home in a few hours. How are you?”

“Uh, I’m fine. Yeah, Mom told me that you
would be going there. How is it?”

“Not at all like I expected. It’s really
almost a ‘normal’ place. More like the U.S. than you’d think from
watching the news.”

“Um. Good. I’m sure that you’ve been very
successful.”

The slight sarcasm baiting her voice almost
had the desired effect, but he fought back his reaction and plowed
ahead, trying to sound normal.

“Yes. Well, I hadn’t planned to call you
because I assume that you’re still with Alex, but then I do really
love and care about you, so I thought that I’d check in and see how
you’re doing.”

A pause. “Really good. We’re fine. I’m
finishing up papers in two classes. Exams will be in two weeks.
Just the usual.”

“And Alex?”

“He interviewed for two jobs and may go to
summer school.”

“Well, uh, good. Good. But, Callie, I got a
link to another video that you’ve done, or at least I think it’s
you—and Alex.”

Silence.

“Callie, did you do another one? You don’t
need to do that. It’s terrible.”

“You used to help me. But you told us that
we’re on our own. So it was a quick way to make some good money.
And we may make some more because now your company has a program
where we can upload a video, and as people pay to watch, we get
half. How about that for entrepreneurship? We have a way to make it
on our own. No one can really tell it’s me.”

“I think you’re wrong there. I got an email
from the same man—he likes to rub my face in it.”

“So it’s a problem for
you
. Is that
the real issue? That someone in the company or in our extended
Iranian family might recognize me and call you?”

Silence.

“Is that the real problem, Dad? Well, if
they call, you can just tell them that you’ve cut me off.”

“Callie, why are you doing this?”

“Why am
I
doing this? I was just
minding my own business and doing what I’m sure most young people
do, when my father humiliated my boyfriend and disowned me a few
weeks ago. Now I have to fend for myself—with Alex. And we
are.”

“Callie, making a porn movie is wrong.”

“We’re acting and just having fun, and most
people will never know who it is. And if it’s wrong to make one, is
it right to make money by hosting them on the internet? If Alex and
I are wrong, what about USNet? They’ve made it so that if we
sponsor someone else, we make twenty-five percent of what they
bring in. So we’ve asked Jane and her boyfriend to try it. Then if
they sponsor someone, we get ten percent. Your company knows how to
motivate entrepreneurs.”

“I…I can’t argue with you about that. I’m
not proud that we do it. But that’s business. This is our family.
Your personal choices.”

“And yours. To disown me and to stay at
USNet.”

“I can’t leave USNet over a tiny piece of
what we do. That would be crazy. And I can’t countenance you living
with a man when you’re not married—especially one who treats you
like Alex treats you.”

“Dad, we’re about to get into the same
argument that we had three weeks ago. We’re getting nowhere. For
the record, I’m safe and I’m fine. Let’s just stop here before we
repeat everything all over again.”

Is there nothing more to say to my
daughter
? “Callie. I love you, and I hope that you’ll think
again about all that you’re doing.”

“Goodbye, Dad. Have a good flight.”

He put down the phone, switched off the
light, and lay back in bed. He was angry with Callie and Rob, and
upset with Knox and Kristen.

How can I stop my children from doing
destructive things? Can’t they see the consequences?

At least for the moment my own part of the
business is going well. I’ll focus on that, but I’ve got to come up
with solutions for Rob and Callie.

In what seemed like only a few moments, the
alarm went off.

I hope I can sleep on the plane.

That afternoon, a few hours after David’s
plane took off, Pavel Sivyakov was driving out to the warehouse to
meet his friends. The last few days had been ones of great worry
and tension, but in the end they had decided to take the offer from
the second group. So they had purchased plane and train tickets,
and he had instructed his wife to begin packing for a short trip—he
did not want her to become hysterical about leaving Russia,
probably forever.

In four hours, after it was dark, they were
to meet with three men who were coming to inspect the missiles, and
they were bringing the money. He could not help feeling both
excited and relieved. It was almost done.

He had just pulled up to the parking lot
which surrounded the former auto repair facility when his phone
rang. His friends’ cars were not yet there, so he assumed that it
was one of them calling. He stopped the engine and answered his
phone.

“Turn on your camera,” a male voice
said.

He turned on the two-way connection, and
there, in front of him, were his wife and daughter, with tape
across their mouths and their hands bound. Their wild, wet eyes
told him all he needed to know.

The voice behind the other phone said, “We
mean them no harm. This is just extra insurance that our
transaction tonight goes smoothly, and that you do not have any
plans to change the terms, or the product. Do you understand?”

He could barely muster the breath to say,
“Yes.”

When his friends arrived he told them about
his wife and daughter. They encouraged him that all would go well,
and that they would be living their new lives within just two days.
They set about making the launcher and the missiles it contained
ready for careful inspection.

Precisely at nine o’clock they heard two
cars pull up outside the warehouse, and Pavel went outside through
the personnel door next to the large roll-up door which had been
closed since their special product arrived. He was confronted by
six, not three, large men in blue fatigues. They were armed with
rifles and pistols, and two of them immediately began walking down
the sides of the building. The one closest to him, from the lead
car, said, “Are you Mr. Sivyakov?”

Pavel nodded, looking warily at the men and
their arms.

“I am Boris Rusnak, and we are here to do
business with you. We would like to see inside.”

Pavel stepped out of the way. Rusnak and two
others went inside, and he followed.

After nodding to the others standing
together inside the door, the two with Rusnak fanned out and looked
all around the facility, ignoring the missile launcher in the
middle of the floor. When they both nodded, Rusnak used a
walkie-talkie clipped to his shirt, and a moment later a third car
drove up outside.

The two men who now entered the space were
not like the first six; clearly these were men whose expertise
would advance the transaction. Without saying anything to anyone,
except to ask for the code to operate the launcher mechanisms, the
two looked and took readings and examined every part of the
missiles and their carrier. Pavel and his friends stood and
watched, shifting from foot to foot, and making small talk. Finally
the two experts walked to Rusnak, conversed with him for a moment,
and left. Pavel heard their car depart.

Rusnak walked over and extended his hand
with a smile. “Congratulations. We have confirmed that the product
is as you said. Would you like your money now?”

Pavel felt a wave of relief, smiled, shook
Rusnak’s hand and looked at his friends. “Yes, of course.”

Rusnak spoke into the phone again, and a
moment later there was the sound of another vehicle outside. Two
men came into the warehouse with five satchels over their
shoulders, and dropped them on the floor by Rusnak.

“Five satchels with $1 million in $100
bills. Please check them.”

Pavel and each of his friends picked up a
bag, opened it, and looked inside. Pavel pulled out one of the many
wrapped bundles, and was delighted to see so many faces of Benjamin
Franklin. He looked around, and the friends nodded to each
other.

“Then, please,” Rusnak said, “the keys to
the launcher. And, by the way, I congratulate you on your
craftsmanship and welding skills. It really does look like any
other large truck. If you will open the door, we will depart.”

Pavel reached in his pocket to hand over the
keys, and motioned to his colleague to roll up the door. One of the
men who had brought the money satchels took the keys, climbed into
the cab, and started the engine.

Rusnak turned to Pavel. “So far all has gone
as planned. We do not wish to be followed. For the sake of the
insurance that you saw on your phone, stay inside this facility for
five minutes after you hear the last of our engines. Then you will
be free to go.”

Pavel nodded. “Understood. They will be
unharmed?”

“You have my word.” Rusnak extended his
hand, and they shook again. “It has been a pleasure.” He looked at
his compatriots as the lorry went into gear. “Let’s go.”

Rusnak waited outside until the lorry and
the other car were down the road. Then he took out a small gun-like
device and pointed it toward the warehouse for a moment. It beeped.
He got into the car and said to his colleague behind the wheel,
“Pull up to that rise.” The car departed.

They stopped a short distance away. Rusnak
looked at his watch. Thirty seconds later he saw the contrail of
the incoming missile. A moment later there was a huge explosion and
the warehouse was engulfed in flames.

Rusnak smiled. “It’s a pity how dangerous
welding can be. They should have been more careful.”

The driver asked, “What about all that
money?”

Rusnak made a motion with his hand as he
watched the conflagration. “Counterfeit, except for the first few
bills in each bundle. A small price. Let’s go.”

As they pulled out into the road again, he
said, almost to himself, “The bastards. They stole from the
motherland. What did they expect?”

SUNDAY, MAY 8TH

Friday at the office was a blur. David had
not scheduled any important meetings, using the time while his body
and brain adjusted to read his mail, catch up with each member of
his team, and return phone calls. Saturday afternoon he took
Elizabeth to a baseball game; Rob said he was too busy to go. Then
they slept late that Sunday morning.

The Sawyers were sipping coffee in bed,
about to read the Sunday paper, when the phone rang.

“Hey, David. It’s Kristen. Are you awake?”
He was surprised. Members of his team knew that they could call him
at any time, but, still, Sunday morning was unusual.

“Yes, we’re up. How are you?”

“Have you seen the article in this morning’s
paper about Bill Porter?”

“No. I was just about to start reading the
paper. What wonderful thing has he done now?”

“Actually, he’s missing. Since Wednesday
night. There was a piece on last night’s news about it, but the
article this morning—it’s in the Metro section—has more
information.”

He put his coffee on the bedside table.
“Since Wednesday? I’m turning to it.” There was silence as David
read the article. “They found his car outside an inn north of here?
Wonder what he was doing there.”

“Well, it’ll be hard to involve us. That’s
one place where USNet has no assets.”

“Why do you say ‘involve us’?

Kristen paused. “Well, I was just thinking
about his voicemail—when he said he’d been threatened. And he
accused us.”

Elizabeth turned the paper slightly in his
hand so that she could read it.

“Kristen, why would anyone pull us into
something like this? I mean, I hope they find him—wandering in the
woods, or on one of his romantic safaris in the mountains with a
broker or attorney of the female persuasion. But it would be quite
a stretch to implicate us. We didn’t do anything.”

“I know, I know. But it was so recent—his
call. Anyway, I just thought we should talk about it, and that’s
why I called.”

“That’s fine. I’ll read the article, and
we’ll talk tomorrow if he hasn’t turned up. But, please, Kristen,
don’t
call the police and tell them that he said we
threatened him ten days ago.”

He could picture her smile in the tone of
her voice. “Oh, I know not to do that. But I
will
pray for
him and his family.”

“Good. Please
do
pray for them. And
have a great Sunday. I’ll be working on all the stuff you guys left
for me while I was gone. Now I remember why I hate leaving on these
assignments.”

“I guess that’s why you’re the boss. All
your real estate children are glad you’re back. See you
tomorrow.”

He hung up and told Elizabeth, who had
listened quietly to his side of the conversation, the rest of the
story.