Enemy In the Room (36 page)

Read Enemy In the Room Online

Authors: Parker Hudson

Tags: #redemption, #spiritual warfare, #christian fiction, #terrorist attacks, #thriller action suspense, #geo political thriller

“I’m fine, Senator. Sorry to call so early,
but I wanted to catch you.”

“That’s fine. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to get back to you on your
proposal for Moscow. We discussed it at Camp David over the
weekend, and we’re inclined to accept. But we need to know pretty
quickly exactly what Knox is prepared to say and do to endorse the
Media and Entertainment Reform Bill.”

Bulloch nodded. “Of course. Of course. Good.
I’ll call and let Trevor know. Is there someone they can call in
your office?”

“Yes. JoAnne Brooks. If we can get
comfortable with the draft of the written communiqué, I’d like to
meet with a senior USNet person myself—probably later this week,
given the short time. And then, if we’re on the same page, we’ll go
public, after confirming with President Temirov, of course.”

“Yes, of course. Well, I’ll suggest to
Trevor that one of his senior people contact Ms. Brooks, and then
hopefully they can work out the right language and schedule a
meeting with you right away.”

“That’ll be good, Senator.”

“Fine. Good. Thanks for arranging it.”

“It’s not done yet, but we certainly
appreciate your help. We won’t forget.”

“Just trying to help, Bradley. Just trying
to help.”

Within four minutes Trevor Knox was reading
a word-by-word transcript of their conversation on the monitor at
his desk. He smiled.

 

At ten that morning the real estate group
assembled in the large conference room on the thirty-third floor.
Bagels, doughnuts and coffee were on the credenza.

David began. “I’m sure you’ll all be
interested to know that I’m talking with a few candidates to add to
our group. Nothing definite yet. For now, let’s do the usual review
of our projects. Todd, you want to start?”

“Sure. Perhaps of most immediate interest,
David and I met on Friday with the lawyers representing Capital
Tower. Since Bill Porter has been missing for six weeks, they’re
finally ready to consider another offer. We told them that since we
were the next highest bid, they ought to work with us, and we
offered to match Porter’s price. We think they appreciated our
willingness to help them make up for lost time, and hopefully we’ll
hear this week.”

Phelps paused in case there were any
questions, then continued. “On Brookglen, the project is well under
construction and appears to be on schedule. In Kansas City, the
same guys have an interesting redevelopment deal, and Cheryl and I
are trying to make the numbers work for our telecom facility.” He
glanced at Cheryl, who nodded.

Sawyer’s group continued in this way for the
next hour, and then their boss wrapped up the meeting. “If all goes
well, I may go back to Moscow at the end of the month to help
orchestrate the grand opening of our new facility there, and
sometime in between I may have to visit L.A. for a few days to
oversee our recent acquisitions and planned dispositions. Any other
questions?

“Finally—there will be more on this
later—please try to use your cell phone and email as little as
possible for really sensitive information…OK? We’ve got landlines
for important calls, and I’ll be looking into encryption for our
emails. It may take a little longer to communicate, but it may also
be more secure. Even the small chance of being read by others
concerns me. So, for now, please humor me, as you always do.”

 

Late that morning Trevor Knox had Paul Burke
in his office; Bud Purcell, who ran their XXXtra Cinema operation
in Los Angeles, was on the video conference screen. It was still
early on Monday in Los Angeles, and Bud looked like he needed
another cup of coffee. But he had done as Knox requested and
emailed a draft of their proposed corporate statement on the
President’s Media and Entertainment Reform bill.

“Thanks, Bud,” Knox said. “We’re under a
little pressure to get this to the White House, and I want the
three of us to agree on the language.”

“No problem,” Purcell said, and sipped his
coffee.

Paul Burke reread the draft he had received
an hour before:

 

USNet has always been a champion of
individual adult choice in a free society, and for that reason we
applaud President Harper’s work to make choice the hallmark of the
new Media and Entertainment Reform legislation.

Within the next three months we will,
therefore, ensure that all of the programming on our cable
networks’ Basic Packages will be G rated, and that other programs
will be available only to those who choose them.

Second, we will adopt recently developed
log-in software to positively ID each user on the internet and
ensure that no inappropriate material is made available to a user
who is under twenty-one.

Finally, we will voluntarily make certain
that everyone associated with our Adult Entertainment subsidiaries
in America, including actors, crews and distributors, is a minimum
of twenty-one years of age, so that each may make a responsible
choice.

Once all of these changes are implemented,
we believe that we will be in full compliance with the new law, and
we urge others in our industry to comply with these same
legislative guidelines.

 

“Those are some pretty big changes,” Burke
said. “How will they affect our business units?”

“I’m not crazy about them,” Purcell
offered.

Knox nodded. “I know, but we need to move
on. And it won’t be a total lay-down. We’ll change our basic cable
package so that it’s pretty limited. Subscribers will call us for
more variety, and that’s when we’ll encourage them to OK the other
program ratings. And we’ll try this new internet log-in software.
If it doesn’t work, no one will be able to blame us for ditching it
a few months later. But, all in all, let’s try to comply, at least
to the letter of the law. Don’t forget, we own most of the U.S.
adult entertainment industry now, and we want to be on reasonably
good terms with the government. This seems like a highly visible
way to do it.”

“You’re right about that,” Burke agreed.
“President Harper ought to love hearing you speak these words about
her legislation.”

“Agreed,” Purcell added. “So long as we can
keep our options open.”

“We will, we will,” Knox assured them. “But
for now, let’s comply.”

“You’re the boss,” Purcell said.

Burke turned to Knox. “I’m OK with the
language if that’s our plan.”

“Good. Paul, please contact Ms. Brooks in
Bradley Fuller’s office in the White House at this number, and send
her our draft. Hopefully they’ll like it, and we can begin making
plans in earnest to have both Presidents open our new office in
Moscow. “

 

That evening Kristen was in the living room
of her apartment, watching a baseball game on television, when her
home phone rang. It was David.

“David. How are you? And what’s that noise?”
She picked up the remote and turned down the volume on the
game.

“Oh, sorry. Just people talking. I’m calling
from a pay phone in a restaurant. How are you?”

“Fine. Glad to be back from my travels. A
pay phone? I didn’t know there were any left. I’m interviewing
tomorrow with a commercial brokerage firm, and on Thursday I’m
flying to Ohio to meet with a pension fund that wants to open an
office here to invest in real estate.”

“Sounds good. I hope one of them works
out.”

“Me, too. I can’t wait to find out what
other interests I quit USNet to pursue.”

“OK, OK. At least you’re being paid well
while you look. And I’ll give you a good reference.”

“You’re right about the income. So, how are
you?”

“Fine. I want to pass on the news I heard
late today from Paul, because I thought your friend in Congress
would want to know. He and Trevor went over a position paper about
USNet changing its position to conform with the new law, and Paul
told me that Trevor is really behind it.”

“Great!”

“Yes. So maybe he and President Harper will
have their meeting in Moscow, and Callie will have to get out of
the business. Wouldn’t that be great? It would be such a load off
me.”

“Yes. That would be wonderful. I hope it
happens soon. And how are you? Still busy?”

“As ever.”

“Oh. Wait a minute. It’s my other line.” She
depressed the button on her phone. “Hello.”

“Kristen? Hi. It’s Callie.”

“Callie! It’s so good to hear you. Let me
clear the other line. Just a minute.” She pushed the button again.
“David? It’s Callie. What timing. Let me talk with her. Can I call
you back?”

“Uh, no. Let me call you tomorrow.”

“OK. Thanks for the heads up. I’ll pass it
along to Janet Sullivan.”

“Good. And let me know how Callie’s
doing.”

“Will do.” She clicked to switch to the
second line again. “Callie? Hey, how are you?”

“Oh, I’m good. How are you? Did you enjoy
San Francisco?”

“Yes. It was great.” Kristen shifted on the
couch to get more comfortable and muted the television. “I actually
stayed a little longer than I planned. I love that place.”

“I went there earlier this year. Really
nice. But, like, I called to find out about your trip. And what
you’re doing now. I don’t know—sort of like what we talked about.
Keeping in touch.”

“Thanks. Thanks, Callie. I’m glad. I’ll
always be really happy to hear from you. My hotel was right
downtown, and so I was able to walk almost everywhere. You wouldn’t
believe this red dress I saw. It looked
just
like the one
we…”

And the two women discussed Kristen’s trip,
her job search, and other subjects for almost forty minutes.

As David drove home from his business
dinner, he was more at peace than he had been for months.

Finally it’s all coming together. Rob has
the summer to work, without pressure from school. Callie won’t be
able to make any more of those videos, at least for a year. With my
bonus we can offer her a college in the Northeast, away from Alex,
or whatever she wants.

And hopefully we’ll bring in some good new
people this month. If Todd and Cheryl will just stay, maybe we can
have a functioning department again. It would be nice if I could
actually enjoy the trip to Moscow to meet with the President.

Now I’ve got to focus on Omid and Goli—to
get them away from those fundamentalist Muslim thugs who’ve taken
over my parents’ country. What a tragedy. How can anyone believe
what they believe?

If I prayed like Kristen, I guess I’d
thank God for our family here, and ask His help for our family
there.
He paused.
And I guess for that I’d have to pray to
God, not Allah.

25

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 8TH

 

Two mornings later David and his son were
sitting at their breakfast room table having cereal and fruit. Each
wore a white shirt and gray slacks.

“How’s the shipping business?” David
asked.

“It’s OK.”

“What have you learned so far?”

“Oh, that rich people with jets going on
vacation send their suitcases ahead by express delivery.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“They want giant bags delivered the next
day. Crazy expensive. And crazy people.”

“Dealing with crazy people is great training
for whatever you eventually do.” David smiled.

“Yeah. I know. But it’s sort of boring,
too.”

“Yes. A lot of business is. But sometimes
the most boring is the most necessary.”

“I guess.” He nodded his head and took
another spoonful.

“You came in kind of late last night, didn’t
you?”

“I don’t know. About eleven thirty.”

“I thought I heard the door close after
midnight.”

“Maybe.” His son stood and took his empty
bowl to the sink. “I gotta put on a tie.”

“All right. I’m flying up to Washington with
Paul Burke. We have a meeting tomorrow in the White House.”

Rob turned. “The White House?” It was the
first words he’d spoken that morning that indicated any
interest.

Finishing his cereal, his father said, “Yes.
Paul’s meeting with Bradley Fuller, the domestic policy guy, and
I’m meeting with Sandra Van Huyck, the President’s foreign policy
advisor.”


You’re
meeting with Sandra Van
Huyck?”

Rising, he smiled. “Sure. What’s so odd
about that?”

“I mean, she advises the President every
day.”

“Yep. I didn’t know that you’d know about
her. Tomorrow we’re talking about the President’s trip to Moscow.
We hope to host her at our new USNet headquarters there, and I’m
sort of in charge of the details.”

“Really? Whoa!”

“My thoughts exactly.” He smiled again as he
put his bowl in the sink.

“Can I tell anyone?”

“Not yet. It’s not public. But probably by
the end of the week.”

With a carefully measured portion of
near-respect, Rob surveyed his father again and said, “That’s
cool.”

 

Late that morning David was beginning a
review of the acceptance documents for the space in New York that
Kristen had negotiated two months earlier, when Todd came through
the doorway, beaming.

The senior executive walked over to stand in
front of his boss’s desk and said in an excited voice, “David, I
just heard from the attorney for Capital Tower. They’ve agreed to
accept our offer to match Porter’s price, and they want to close as
soon as possible. Isn’t that great?”

David clenched his fists in front of his
shoulders. “Yes!” He stood up and shook Todd’s hand. “Great news!
Great job, Todd.”

“Thanks. They’ve asked us to come over this
afternoon. Can you make it?”

“If we don’t meet too late. Paul Burke and I
are scheduled to leave for D.C. at five, but I could probably make
it later if no one else needs the jet.”

“I’ll check with you right after lunch.
OK?”

“Great. Knox and Burke will be really
pleased.”

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