Enemy In the Room

by Parker Hudson

  9

  WEDNESDAY, APRIL 20TH

  David received an email that morning from an unknown sender. It simply read, “Call your cousin.”

  So just before leaving his office for lunch, he picked up his cell phone and dialed a new number in Estonia, and a moment later he heard Omid’s phone ringing in Tehran.

  “Omid, hey. It’s David.”

  “Hello, Cousin!” came the joyful reply. “How are you?’

  “We’re fine, thanks. How’s the family?”

  “Goli and I are well. We just got back to our apartment after work. A lot of new orders for translations, I’m glad to say.”

  “Good. How about our business?”

  “That’s why I wanted you to call, so I can thank you. The new sites are working well, and they seem to be secure. We can tell that my uncle has been pinging, trying to hack in and close us down. But Abigail has given us some strong defenses.”

  “Great. How about the gifts we sent?”

  “Excellent. Can you send us more cards to go in them?”

  “Of course. How many?”

  “We can use as many as you can send, to stay ahead. My other cousin will be in the same place again in a month, if you can send them there.”

  “I’ll do it this week.”

  “Thanks.”

  “OK. How’s everything else?”

  “There seems to be a group of mullahs—and now not just young ones—who also want to try different recipes. We have an Iraqi friend talking with them and encouraging them to look into a new menu. They say that they want to change.”

  “That would be great. But isn’t that what others said, until they owned the restaurant?”

  “Yes. But now they’ve seen the result of the wrong manager.”

  “I hope you’re right. Keep talking, but please be careful.”

  “I will, Cousin, I promise.”

  David put down his cell phone and picked up his USNet landline phone, then dialed an intercom number.

  “Abigail? Hi. It’s David. Can you get me twenty more SIM cards, please?”

  Claudia Coleman of Journal magazine was at her desk later that morning, hoping for a call-back from Congresswoman Janet Sullivan, or someone on her staff, to discuss the information released by Truth in Politics. Instead of a call, she received an email with an advance copy of a press release that would go out that afternoon.

  Washington, D.C. April 20. Congresswomen Janet Sullivan has the following three point response to yesterday’s “revelation” by Truth in Politics.

  1. For the past several weeks my husband, Richard--and by extension myself and Kristen Holloway—have been threatened by unnamed people who thought that they could blackmail him into convincing me not to vote for President Harper’s media bill. This threat was explicitly stated, and the consequence for his failure to cooperate was to be the release of this information. So yesterday’s news was not the spontaneous act of a curious individual, but in fact a precisely timed political move to discredit me, and by inference, President Harper.

  2. The reason they released it is because they could not blackmail my husband. He and Ms. Holloway disclosed this situation to me years ago. They asked for my forgiveness. Because I knew that their remorse was real, and that God had changed them—and me—on the inside, I freely forgave them. So there is no story here about anger, mistrust, or revenge. Instead, the story is one of thanksgiving, trust and joy. Richard is a wonderful husband and father, not to mention attorney and partner. I trust him completely. People can be changed. We three are all living proof of that.

  3. Whoever was behind the blackmail must be worried, because I remind you that President Harper’s media bill only asks for three things:

  First, that all transmissions into our homes— TV, cable, satellite, internet— be “G” rated by default, unless the owner of the account specifically asks for something different. We’re not trying to censor anyone or anything, just put the burden to receive it on those who want it, not on the rest of us who constantly have to check, monitor, worry and guard our children against it.

  Second, that for anyone to view anything other than PG on the internet, he or she must have proof of being twenty-one, or consent from a parent. There are new tools in advanced development which will allow for positive identification of the person actually logged on, like a cyber driver’s license.

  Third, that everyone associated with the ‘adult’ movie industry, meaning crews, actors, distributors, sales people, etc., must also be at least twenty-one. We do not let our children drive cars at fourteen or drink at eighteen. Some parts of the internet and certainly pornography are just as dangerous and powerful as drinking or driving, and we want to be sure that children are not involved.

  Those changes, all of which only protect children and families, are the reasons that unknown people are trying to blackmail me and other members of Congress. We suspect that those who oppose us are not concerned about free speech so much as about money— being able to hook young, unsuspecting people at an early age— like tobacco successfully did.

  The Congresswoman will be available to answer any additional questions at her regularly scheduled press briefing on Thursday afternoon at 1: 30.

  Claudia read the information twice, then called her assistant. “Please find a number for Kristen Holloway at USNet. I think she works in their real estate department.”

  Victor Mustafin was by himself at his computer, several printed phone transcripts arranged on his office desk beside him. He was piecing together the information in the calls which they had intercepted before and after Pavel Sivyakov’s offer of the cruise missiles in Arzamas-23. And they then broadened the search to include calls to others made by each party to that fist call. None of the callers used encryption, or seemed the least bit concerned about interception.

  It was clear that young Sivyakov and his four friends had concocted quite a plan to steal three GoFor missiles from the factory where they worked. And, a month after the paperwork on the destruction was submitted, they seemed to have pulled it off. The missles’ launcher on paper was on a trip to the factory in the Ural Mountains for refurbishment, while in reality it was hidden several kilometers out of the city in a small warehouse which they had rented to do work on their autos. But their late night metalwork was really disguising the launcher as a common lorry.

  The missiles had been smuggled out in key pieces and then reassembled by the five experts, and reunited with the launcher.

  Mustafin was impressed with their ingenuity. And he understood that phone encryption would not have made sense to their group. But he could not understand the laziness of those trying to buy the missiles, because they were clearly the Russian national police, either working on a sting operation, or hoping to grab the product and then sell it themselves.

  Claudia Coleman was lucky. Late that afternoon, Kristen answered her own phone at USNet.

  After Claudia introduced herself, Kristen said, “Well, I saw it was a 202 area code and thought that it might be Janet Sullivan. I don’t think I have anything to add to the press release that she put out earlier today.”

  “I understand. I just wanted to confirm that you agree with everything in that release.”

  “Yes, Janet let me proof it before it went out.”

  “So you are on a first name basis?”

  Kristen paused, then explained and reinforced that she had asked for and received the Congresswoman’s forgiveness, and the three of them had moved on. Kristen had changed cities and begun working for USNet.

  “That brings up an interesting irony here,” injected Ms. Coleman. “Trevor Knox, the CEO of USNet, is certainly an outspoken critic of the President’s proposed legislation. This episode has had a potentially negative impact on both the President’s legislation and on an employee of USNet. Do you share Mr. Knox’s views on the issues Mrs. Sullivan has enumerated?”

  Kristen paused then said, “I work in USNet’s Real Estate Group, Ms. Coleman, not in corporate poli
cy. I think I’m reasonably good at what I do, but, no, personally I don’t share Mr. Knox’s views on these subjects. If he asked me, which he hasn’t, I would take USNet out of adult movies all together. I’m sort of embarrassed that we own those studios. What good can they possibly do anyone? And to the extent that they encourage promiscuity, surely they hurt our society on many levels. But, again, Mr. Knox is his own man, and he has certainly been successful at everything he has done. I just wish we didn’t do adult movies.”

  “Thank you. And my last question. Do you think there could be a ‘conspiracy’ to blackmail members of Congress on this bill? Isn’t that a bit farfetched?”

  “All I can tell you is that it happened to us. It’s not easy to live with. I guess you should check with others.”

  The next morning Knox was again airborne, on the way back from Brazil. He had concluded a secret agreement to control more than seventy percent of that nation’s telecommunications assets through various interlocking companies, allowing him to begin raising prices.

  As his Falcon jet sped north, he logged on to Real Time Intercepts through his console and was soon face to face with Victor Mustafin. “Victor, I have a potential Special Operations mission. There’s a real estate man who is trying to steal fifty million dollars from us, and he needs to be persuaded that this would be unhealthy business for him to pursue.” Knox gave him the details for the mission. “I’ll follow up with an email tomorrow once I’ve gathered all the facts from David Sawyer.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand. There’s more news, not good. We intercepted an uplink of an article that will be in tomorrow’s edition of Journal magazine. A reporter called the Holloway woman in USNet’s Real Estate Group. I think you ought to see it. But you won’t like it. I’m sending it now.”

  When he finished reading it, Knox sat with arms crossed in his expensive swivel seat, glaring at Mustafin.

  “I can’t believe this. I told you to check everyone involved in these plans, to be sure that there were no links to us. Now we’ve got the press looking for a blackmail plot and a USNet employee criticizing one of the most profitable parts of our business!”

  “Mr. Knox, I’m sorry. We’re doing that from now on, to the third level of possible connections, even though we’re overloaded. Meanwhile, no one will ever be able to trace the various threats to one source. They were all made in different ways, some general and others specific.”

  “The Holloway woman has got to go. We can’t have her at USNet. Criticizing our adult movies. After that interview, every reporter, especially the few who are friendly to President Harper, will feel free to call and ask her opinion about anything we do. I’ll tell Sawyer to fire her.”

  “With all respect, sir, you might want to hold off a week or two on that. You don’t want to link all this too closely and make her a martyr for expressing her views.”

  Knox was silent for a moment. “You may be right. But the result must be the same. We’ll need a reason, like the debacle on this Capital Tower project. I’ll tell Sawyer to look for a good reason to get rid of her.”

  “Mr. Knox, on a more positive note, we have a list of eight possible new RTI duty officers that we’ve assembled from personal knowledge and intercepts—all mid-level employees who have handled large responsibilities, but right now can be motivated by personal problems or their need for income.”

  Knox nodded.

  Mustafin continued. “Akbar and I would like you to review the summaries of why we believe these people will be motivated to participate. If you’d like, I can email them to you now.”

  “Yes, I’ll take a look. Thanks. Maybe with more people watching the data flow we won’t have these lapses.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, sir.”

  10

  FRIDAY, APRIL 22ND

  David sat alone at his desk two days later, on Friday afternoon, a stack of property reports, lease abstracts, budget drafts, and space requests piled next to his inbox. He had been working on them since four, and an hour and a half later, he realized that over the upcoming weekend he would have to handle all the issues that needed his input before he could depart for Moscow.

  And then there were those pages in his personal drawer. He opened it and pulled them out. Elizabeth won’t let me leave without doing something about Rob. And I’m sure she wants to call Callie.

  He had always believed in goal setting and planning. His father had told him that Allah rewards hard work and good plans. Although David did not believe in Allah the way his father did, he did believe that planning produced results. And that God, if he existed, rewarded those who did right. Every quarter his team put together a Master Goal List, then broke down each complex goal into a series of action steps. For twenty years much of his success had been the result of organizing and achieving goals through action steps.

  Now he faced an unfamiliar list of goals. Bring Rob back to the real world. Rescue Callie from a jerk, sex and probably drugs.

  He was determined to write something on the paper. These are problems just like business problems. I can solve them. I’ve just got to think them through, maybe ask for some advice, and write out the solutions. Then implement the plans. I can do this.

  “Unplug the internet,” he wrote below Rob’s name. He’ll scream. Have to prepare him. What about using the internet for his legitimate schoolwork? Take it slowly? Limit his time? Elizabeth and I will have to talk.

  He looked up at the picture of his family. He kept his pen at Callie’s name for quite a while, but couldn’t think of anything to write except “Talk with Kristen.” She’s got to leave that guy. I’ll think of something more—this weekend.

  David put down his pen, rubbed his temple, then looked again at the more familiar pile of USNet problems that needed solving. He put the family pages back in the drawer and picked up the next project at the top of the pile. It was a relief to begin reading the mundane lease summary.

  His phone rang. “Mr. Sawyer, hello, this is Phyllis Jordan. Mr. Knox wondered if you would have a few minutes to meet with him.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well…sure. I’ll be right up.”

  Five minutes later, coming around his desk, Knox said, “David, glad to see you. Thanks for being available late on Friday afternoon. Here, have a seat at the table. I’ve just got a couple of quick things to go over with you. Won’t take long.”

  “That’s fine. I was just trying to finish some reports before heading for Moscow next week. Our requirement there has actually grown. The country is exploding with internet use.”

  As they sat down across from each other, Knox frowned, pulled out his pen, and said, “Yes, but that new President Temirov they just elected is copying our President Harper, calling for reforms. As if they can legislate morality! It’s actually worse over there. The government has enough power that if they decide to end adult movies or punish those who grease the wheels of commerce with a little cash now and then, they can just do it. Boom! No freedom of speech or checks and balances. It would be very bad for our business, so we’re watching developments there rather closely. But”—and a smile returned to his face as he offered Sawyer some coffee placed in the center of the table—”I’m sure you’ll find just what we need.”

  “We’ve got a good broker over there.”

  “Fine. Well, let me start on the issues I want to discuss with you. First, what’s the latest on Mr. Porter and our building purchase?”

  “I called him on Wednesday morning and warned him that if Capital Tower closes and he turns out to be part of the purchasing group, then we’ll pursue him in court as well as with the Real Estate Commission.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He said he’d see us in court.”

  “I was afraid of that. As were you, of course.” Knox began to tap the gold pen on the table. “OK, now for a delicate situation. I want you to get rid of that Kristen Holloway woman.” Sawyer frowned. Before he could speak, Knox continued.
“No matter how invaluable she may appear, we cannot have anyone on our team who will so blatantly contradict our company policies in the national media. She may become a figurehead speaker for those who support Harper’s attempts to limit our freedom. We cannot allow it.”

  “But…she’s the most experienced person we’ve got. She’s doing a good job…from Asia to Capital Tower, and a lot in between.”

  “I would not call Capital Tower a great success.”

  “That’s not her fault. Porter is an unethical thief.” The gold on his wedding ring felt smooth between his thumb and fingers.

  “Well, it’s her project, and it’s not going well.”

  David was silent, the implications of Knox’s words sinking in. “But she really is an integral part of our team. We—”

  Knox raised the pen. “I’m glad that you’ve trained her, but you can train others. She has to go, and soon.”

  “On what grounds? For what reason?”

  “I’ll leave that up to you. Clearly it can’t be linked directly to her television debut the other day. We need some other issues that we can cite as reasons to let her go.”

  “It might take some time.” David hated saying the words, as if he agreed with the order.

  “Just do it as quickly and as cleanly as you can.” Knox smiled and put the pen on the table between them.

  As he walked from the elevator lobby on the thirty-third floor back to his office, David decided not to think about firing Kristen Holloway until Knox brought it up again. He’s got to change his mind.

  That Saturday Todd took his wife Mary to look at new minivans.

  “How can we do this?” she asked, as they pulled into the dealership in their five-year-old sedan, their two boys strapped into car seats in the back. “We still owe on both of our cars, plus my student loan.”