Enemy In the Room

by Parker Hudson

  “Yes.”

  “There’s a manual loaded on the computer over there.” He nodded toward a desk and terminal in one corner. “You’ll have to study it here. When you finish, either today or tomorrow, we’ll show you the command center and a separate cubicle that mimics the first level data gathering operation in our facilities around the world. You’ll start by sifting through the emails and cell phone conversations that our computers queue up for us to evaluate.”

  “I’m ready when you are.”

  “Good. No notes, by the way. There’s a self-administered test that helps you focus on the important points. And let the receptionist know when you’ve finished. Right now you have access only to this area of the building. I’ll answer any questions during the first tour of the facility.”

  “OK.”

  Mustafin left Todd alone in the conference room. He walked over and touched the keyboard. A document of fifty pages appeared. Todd scrolled down and noticed technical writing, diagrams and pictures. He sat down and started reading.

  This is awesome.

  On David Sawyer’s desk that morning were the usual piles of real estate projects and issues; he checked voicemail and email. Twenty-six messages. One was from Andrei in Moscow. After handling a few other quick questions with Julie, he picked up his phone and dialed their Moscow broker.

  “Hello, David, how are you?” Andrei asked.

  “Great, Andrei. Sounds like you’re next door. How’s the family?”

  “We’re fine, thank you. I was calling to let you know that we’ve worked through all the lease issues. I think you’ll be pleased. We’ll email an English version of the lease for your review.”

  “Good news, Andrei. How soon can we be in our space?”

  “That’s the even better news. Remember the space that was almost finished for the first tenant? Well, there’s apparently been a merger, and that space is not going to be taken. So the developer has offered it to us. It’s almost exactly the same size. The planner likes most of what is already there. So if you approve the switch and we turn her loose to begin ordering materials, I think you can be up and running in six weeks.”

  “That does sound good. Let me have a look at the lease and think about the floor plan, and I’ll give you an answer.”

  “OK.”

  “Thanks, Andrei.”

  David hung up, but his phone buzzed again instantly. “Yes, Julie.”

  “Mr. Sawyer, Barbara says there are two police detectives here to see you.”

  “Uh, OK. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  He walked out of his office, gave a small shrug to Julie, and continued to the real estate group reception area in the middle of the floor. Two men in suits were standing by the receptionist’s desk. The shorter and slightly older one stepped forward.

  “Mr. Sawyer? I’m Lieutenant Don Akers. This is Lieutenant Kirk Hoover.”

  The three men shook hands. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”

  “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  “Sure. The small conference room should be available. Can we get you some coffee?”

  A few moments later they were seated around the conference table with the door closed. Akers began. “Mr. Sawyer, Lieutenant Hoover and I are investigating the disappearance of Mr. William Porter. You know him, I assume.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ve known him professionally for years. Not well, but we’ve done some deals together. He runs a good shop.”

  “Yes. Well, as you probably know, he hasn’t been seen or heard from since May 4th—two weeks ago.”

  “It’s a real mystery. I thought at first that he’d turn up in some love nest, or on a cruise.” David smiled, but the two policemen remained serious.

  Hoover spoke. “Mr. Sawyer, do you have any first-hand experience with Mr. Porter to substantiate that kind of inference?”

  David stopped smiling. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized that it’s been two weeks. I’m sure that his family is very upset.”

  Hoover continued. “Yes. We’re going back through Mr. Porter’s diary and are contacting everyone with whom he met in the month preceding his disappearance.”

  “That will be quite a task.”

  “Yes, but hopefully worth it in the end. We noticed that a week before he vanished he made a note to call you and, uh, Ms. Holloway. Did you talk with him?”

  “He left a voicemail for us.”

  “Is Ms. Holloway here now?”

  “No, she’s in the Far East. She leaves there tomorrow and will be back in our office on Monday.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He was upset. He said that someone had threatened him over the sale of Capital Tower. Well, I think he said that he felt as if someone had threatened him, and he implied that it could be us.”

  The two policemen looked at each other. Lieutenant Akers leaned forward. “Why didn’t you come forward and tell us earlier, Mr. Sawyer?”

  “Well, I guess I should have thought of it, but, frankly, it was so absurd that. I mean, you don’t really think Bill is dead do you? I’ve thought he would turn up any day now and never connected the two. Killed over a business deal? Not likely.”

  Hoover spoke. “Why did he say he felt he was being threatened?”

  “At the time, we and several others were trying to buy Capital Tower, which he was marketing. But Porter apparently decided to buy it himself, which we, and presumably the others, considered to be unethical. Apparently someone called and told him to back off his own purchase of the building, or something bad would happen to him. It was so crazy that we didn’t even call him back.”

  “Capital Tower. What’s happened to that deal since Mr. Porter disappeared?”

  “It’s only been two weeks. In real estate that’s not much time. I guess it’s in limbo, waiting for him to come back.”

  The policemen looked at their pads and continued to ask questions for several more minutes about Porter’s past transactions with USNet, his contact numbers, Kristen’s schedule, etc. Finally, Akers said, “Well, if that’s it, I guess we’re finished. Here are our cards, Mr. Sawyer. If you think of anything else that could help in our search, we’d appreciate it.”

  As they rose, David said, “Of course. We all hope he turns up soon. If I think of anything, I’ll call you.”

  “Thank you. We’ll check back with you.”

  “Hey, Callie, it’s Kristen Holloway. Sorry I got your machine again. Anyway, I’m leaving Singapore in a few hours, and I’ll be staying in L.A. over the weekend. I’ll be at the Crown Royal Hotel downtown. Please call and leave a message at the hotel if we can get together. Any time is fine with me. See ya soon. Bye.”

  Callie was not at home to answer her phone because she and Alex were at their favorite restaurant, celebrating the success of their latest upload. It had quickly gone viral in the world of amateur pornography, and every day their account was credited with additional funds by the USNet website.

  Before their first courses arrived, Alex slipped her a pill under the table, and then checked their account from his handheld. “Another twelve hundred dollars today! And a quote from one of the reviewers: ‘Samantha is the best new actress in the industry.” He smiled, took a pill, and toasted her with a glass of water.

  She joined him, raised her glass, and drank. “I get it. Lots of money. Not bad.”

  “They sent us an email today, asking whether we would like to break out from our amateur venue, to become professionals.”

  She frowned. “You mean with cameramen and a director and all that?”

  “I guess.” He nodded.

  Callie was quiet while she picked up some spinach dip with a chip. “Alex, I like the money a lot—it’s freed us from my parents, and we can do what we want. But I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of public notoriety. Or for taking my clothes off in front of strangers. Besides, I think the slightly obscure way that you put the videos together adds to their appeal. So, no, I don’t mind doing a few mor
e of these, until we have a lot saved, but this is not the career that I had in mind when I started acting.”

  “Others have transitioned.”

  “Alex, let’s just keep doing what works.”

  “But our fans will want more. And there will be even more money. Much more.’

  She thought for a moment and then said, “We’ll see.”

  He took a sip. “OK. I guess ‘Samantha’ calls the shots.”

  As their main courses arrived, Callie smiled. “It’s crazy isn’t it? All that money and no hassles.”

  18

  FRIDAY, MAY 20TH

  Early the next morning Todd was back at the Real Time Intercepts control center. Victor Mustafin gave him a new ID badge, complete with his picture and thumbprint.

  “This gets you into the entire building, except the control room itself. For now, I’ll take you there, and we’ll talk about the schedule. Your training will begin in about a week. OK?”

  Todd clipped the badge on and followed him along a short central corridor. At the end, Mustafin inserted his badge into a slot and placed his right hand over a pad at shoulder height on the wall. There was a click, a door opened, and they entered a dimly lit rectangular area only about the size of a conference room, with a center computer console wrapping around two padded chairs. It looked to Todd like the flight deck of a modern jet, except that above the console walls were screens with maps, stock trading tickers, commodity prices and an array of other information. As his eyes adjusted, Todd watched the back of the single man at the console, who was focused on one of the several screens in front of him and involved in an intense conversation over his headset.

  Mustafin spoke softly to Todd. “The goal of our training is to have you in that chair, able to make decisions quickly, and pass along critical information to whoever needs it.”

  For the first time Todd realized the gravity of what he had agreed to do. It was not just going to be learning what companies were secretly thinking about a particular issue. It was making split-second decisions on what to do with a constant flow of information on an unlimited range of subjects.

  Mustafin noted his expression. “Don’t worry. We’ll train you well. None of us gets everything. It’s too much. We’ll teach you to judge what’s important and to catch most of it. You’ll quickly find ways for all of us to make a lot of money.”

  “I’ve been excited the last few days—but what a lot to learn.”

  “You’ll be ready. Let me show you the rest.”

  Five minutes later they were seated at the table in the conference room. There were several screens on one wall, but only one was on. There was what appeared to be a live picture of a large area filled with people in cubicles.

  Mustafin looked over at Todd and smiled at his surprised expression. “That’s our first level of data gathering, on the other side of the globe.”

  “Man!”

  “They think they’re working for a private security company to find breaches in corporate security. At the first level we like to recruit computer geeks who will do almost anything if they believe it’s improving security or finding others’ mistakes. So when you talk with them on the intercom, please keep that in mind.”

  “Sure. There are so many. Where is it?”

  “As I said, it’s half the world away. We don’t want any of them, or anyone here, to connect what they are doing with our Real Time Intercepts.”

  “It’s so quiet.”

  “No need to talk much when you’re on a console. Most communicating is by computer.”

  Todd nodded.

  “That’s it for today. I have to relieve the duty officer in a few minutes. We’ll take a look at the schedules and figure out when we can run your first watch.”

  “Yes. The sooner the better.”

  “Understood. I’ll show you out. Remember, not a word or a hint to anyone, at home or at work. You should open an account at the bank branch in the front of the building so that there is a normal reason for you to be here. We’ll meet again next week.”

  Following Friday prayers Councilman Hassan Farrahi had accepted an invitation to have lunch with two of his original supporters from the Tampa mosque, along with two visitors who would be joining them from Detroit. Farrahi arrived at the restaurant a few minutes after the older men and greeted them warmly. Although he had spoken on the phone with the two visitors, this was the first time he would meet them face to face. The five men took seats at a large round table at the back of the Middle Eastern diner.

  “So, how is it going after your first month in office?” the taller visitor, Amir Ali, asked.

  “Busy, very busy. There is much to do in our district, and across the city. The schools and hospitals in particular need so much help. People and families are really suffering.”

  “Yes. You are right,” said Rahim Tahymouri , the older of the two, with silver hair and dark eyes.

  They were interrupted by the waiter, and then Rahim smiled. “Hopefully we can help. We’re here to let you know that our foundation is ready to fund a new, large health clinic—truly it will be a small hospital--only two blocks from here. And we will provide an endowment to insure that health care will be free, or nearly so, for everyone. And we would like you to be the one to announce the details in the coming week.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No, no. We are very serious. We already have the contract to purchase the site, and the preliminary design is ready for submission to Planning and Zoning. What do you think?”

  “It’s incredible. Thank you very much.”

  Amir Ali leaned forward. “And a month from now you will announce a new community center, which can double as a school once we get the paperwork approved.”

  “Wow. That’s incredible. It will transform the neighborhood.”

  “Yes. We hope so. We will supply the teachers for the first three years, and they will be firmly grounded in our faith and in the truth. We believe that your young people will enjoy learning from them.”

  “Is there some hitch? Are there strings?”

  The four men laughed. Amir Ali said, “No, of course not. Just let our teachers teach. We believe that we should help all people, and particularly brothers and sisters and their families. And we have money to spend that the government no longer has.”

  “Again, it’s incredible.”

  “No, it is what Allah has commanded us to do. We may ask you to travel occasionally to some other cities, to tell smaller communities how to organize as you have done. And we may have ideas about higher elected offices for you in the future, but that will play out in Allah’s time.”

  Farrahi simply looked at the four men. Finally he said, “Of course, that would be fine. Whatever you think, I’ll be glad to help.”

  “Good. We hope so. This is why our faith will ultimately win over the world, because it is not just faith, but also a way to live, and a way to govern. All aspects are united as one. Others are splintered into political factions, denominations, ‘church and state’. Allah has designed Islam in this way so that one day His truth will rule the world. While everyone in the West argues and debates, we will command.”

  “Peacefully,” Farrahi added.

  “Yes, of course. You are part of that. Allah has chosen you to do great things. You are blessed.”

  “Thank you.”

  Kristen had decided to splurge and stay at one of the beautifully restored older hotels in downtown Los Angeles. On arrival she had been particularly pleased to hear Callie’s voicemail, and now, a day later, after a little sleep, she was sitting in the elegant, noisy lobby, waiting for the younger woman. Kristen wore a stylish but simple dark blue summer dress with a single strand gold necklace.

  They had agreed to have a late breakfast and then head off for some shopping. On the phone Callie sounded reluctant to commit to much time, but Kristen was thankful that they could at least spend a few hours together. She saw Callie walking in through the motor lobby entrance, wearing an open colla
r white top, designer jeans, and sandals. She carried a large, colorful straw bag.

  As Callie looked around, her dark glasses perched atop her head, Kristen stood, smiled, and walked toward her. When Callie turned her way, she made a small sign of recognition, and the two women met near the middle of the lobby under a large chandelier.

  Kristen, slightly taller, extended her hand and shook Callie’s. “I’m so glad you could come.”

  David’s daughter half smiled and brushed back her hair with her left hand. “Yes, me too. How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. The usual jetlag. But I’m used to it. How about you?”

  “I was up late studying. But it’s a beautiful day, and the drive revived me a bit.”

  “Good. Good.” Kristen turned slightly and motioned toward the open dining area off the lobby. “Shall we have some breakfast—or brunch, I guess?”

  Callie returned her smile. “Yes. I’m starved, actually. Thanks.”

  A few moments later they were sitting in a booth on a raised area along the back wall, not far from the buffet tables.

  “I guess you want the buffet,” Kristen said. Callie nodded expectantly, eyeing the serving tables. Kristen looked at the menu, then put it aside. “Well, at my age I’m usually more the fruit and yogurt type, but, hey, today I’ll join you.”