“I thought Babel had finished the arrangements,” Dylan said. “The prince is buying over half the shares, right?”
“He is.” Katarina paused. “Liz will meet with him in two days.”
“Why?”
“I think Owen may have suggested it.”
Dylan’s throat was tight. “Owen…”
“I heard the news, too. It’s awful. He was a fine general counsel.”
“You think it was a coincidence?”
“What?”
“You just said he was the one who suggested that Liz meet with the prince. And when I told you he’d seen us meeting, with the package, you said he was a problem. Now he’s dead.”
“It was a murder.” Katarina shrugged, a corner of her lips turned up. “Terrible, I know, but these things happen. They found his body not far from one of the workers’ camps near the tower. He probably got into a fight with somebody. Probably drinking, guns involved.”
“Owen never fought anyone. He was shot in the head while driving.”
“So a worker wanted revenge, I guess.”
“For what?”
“It’s under investigation.”
Dylan stared at Katarina. Her eyes were straight ahead. Her arms continued pulling the oar through the water. Their kayaks were moving fast. Dylan was starting to sweat. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
A spray of water glistened over Katarina’s arm as she flicked the oar out and into Bay. “What do you want me to say? I don’t know any more than you do.”
Dylan felt sure she knew more, but she wasn’t going to tell him anything, especially not if he freaked out. And he was freaking out. He bit his tongue, kept rowing, thinking. A flock of birds flew overhead in a perfect V. “You still think Liz will sell her shares and let you take over Babel?”
“Yes, as long as she’s still involved. She’s joined pitches to several investors about the IPO. That was before we heard about Owen.”
Dylan swallowed. The way she said Owen—casually, warmly—felt like a threat. “Why do the pitches matter?”
“It’s the last marketing before the IPO. There’s only a couple more weeks, but the board is not as concerned about it now that the prince has already agreed to buy so many shares.”
“The board knows about the prince, too?” Dylan asked.
“Of course, it will be in this week’s filing.”
“What filing?”
“Before an IPO the company has to submit a bunch of papers. Legal stuff. It lists potential buyers, so we included the prince. The one thing nobody knows for sure is how many of her own shares Liz is going to sell.”
“What happens if she decides not to sell?”
“Then she runs out of cash to build her tower. She’s burning through it fast. If this deal doesn’t go through, construction could stop.”
“She won’t let that happen, not when she’s so close. But I’m still surprised Liz is okay with the prince.”
“Why wouldn’t she be?”
“He’ll have control over the company.”
“Yes, and he’ll make me CEO, and we’ll make the data public.” Katarina turned to him. “That was always my plan. You thought it was a good idea, remember?”
“Yes.” Dylan paused. He was still thinking about Owen. He felt sick about it. The rocking kayak didn’t help.
“So how is your end of the arrangement working out?” Katarina asked.
“It’s fine,” Dylan said. “Liz is pressing forward with my idea of a contest to conquer death. We’re designing the research station. She’s moving the servers to the tower, too.”
“And you’re working on how to get access?”
“There’s not much I can do.”
“Have you talked to Jax?”
Dylan shook his head. “No point. He’s the same as ever. Brilliant and tortured. He’d never tell me anything.”
Katarina fixed her eyes on him. They bobbed up and down on the waves, far from the shore, the San Francisco skyline behind them.
Dylan wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
“You know,” Katarina said, smiling, “Owen said something similar.”
“Is that a threat?”
“We need access to the data,” she said. “The world needs it. So…I just hope you can follow through.”
Dylan thought of the device at his feet, momentarily deaf to his words. He didn’t like his position, but he had little choice but to play along. If he had his Babel on, and Katarina knew her words could be heard by others, she wouldn’t threaten him like this. No one would speak without considering their words. The world would be a better place. Maybe Owen would still be alive.
“I will do what I can,” Dylan said.
“Who does Jax trust, other than Liz?”
“I don’t really know. He’s close with a few engineers at his company, FireSpy. One of them came up with an idea they’re using in the tower.”
“Name?”
“Veruca, I think.”
“Good.” Katarina dipped her oar into the water, and pulled. Her kayak came to the side of Dylan’s. She put her hand on his arm. “Just a few more weeks, Dylan.”
“I know.”
“We’re going to change the world.”
“I know.”
She squeezed his arm, leaned closer. “Some cannot bear the weight of greatness. Owen couldn’t. But you’ve proven yourself so far. Finish strong, right?”
He met her dark eyes, keeping his face a blank mask. “Finish strong.”
She smiled and gave his kayak a playful shove. Their vessels drifted apart, and she began the long row back to the city, with him following after.
46
Liz hesitated by the coffee pot. It was already late, maybe midnight. Katarina had left an hour ago. The building was deserted and dark, except for the light from her office. But she had so much more to do. Her hand shook as she poured. One more cup, a few more hours. This was the final stretch.
She walked back down the hall, her bare feet gliding silently over the bamboo floors. Strange thoughts occupied these corners of existence. Like how quiet seemed to be a cousin to gravity. The larger something was, the more it pulled. The deeper the quiet, the more it compelled silence.
Losing Owen compelled silence.
Losing Daddy compelled even more.
She remembered every word of the note she’d found inside Daddy’s old Bible. It was just as she’d suspected, tucked in the page about the Tower of Babel. The note had been in Daddy’s neat, drafting-pencil script. A suicide note. Tears filled her eyes as she thought of the words:
Hemingway did it, Van Gogh did it. I will do it.
Some say this thing I do is selfish. And I am sorry, about everything. But everyone will be better off without me. I have nothing left after the failures, over and over, of these late designs. I can’t live, and none could suffer me, with them bound to paper. At least the other buildings stand. If anyone misses me (Meg? Liz?), look to them. Their glass and concrete and stone hold more of me than this poor flesh.
That was it. A lifetime reduced to a half page.
Liz wiped away the tears as she sat at her desk, in front of the screen again. No one was around to care if she cried, but she had work to do.
She was going over the company’s IPO submission to the government. Katarina had told her not to waste her time. “It’s just the details. It’s like reading the fine print during a home closing.” But Liz had always read the fine print. She couldn’t stop herself.
And so she forced herself to focus on page 323 of the filing. Then page 324. Babel’s balance sheet. Its leadership. Its expected investors. Its business opportunities.
One thing caught her attention. A supremely small thing.
A period in a sentence was in bold font, while the rest of the words were not. These were the details that appeared after midnight, after a fifth cup of coffee, in the immense silence of an empty office tower.
Liz knew Owen had worked on th
is filing. It was his final work. Maybe his masterpiece. He was not the type to make mistakes. She owed it to him to fix it.
She accessed his account on the Babel network. The folders and documents were immaculately organized. She opened the folder titled, IPO - SEC filings.
A dozen different versions of the same document were there. Each with a slightly different name. She opened the last one he had opened—the day before someone shot him.
She went to page 324, the one with the period. But now it was not just the period in bold. It was the whole line—a single sentence she had read once before without much thought. Now she read it again.
No notification is required under the Exon-Florio Amendment to the Defense Production Act of 1950, because no acquirer is deemed to be a foreign entity.
Liz had no clue what the bolded line meant, but the words “foreign entity” stood out.
She looked back at the final version. The one they would file with the government tomorrow. The last phrase was gone. No mention of a foreign entity. Only the bold period after “1950.”
Weird.
Liz felt something roiling in her stomach. Maybe it was the coffee. Maybe it wasn’t.
She searched online for the cited law and found a summary. As she read, she breathed faster. When a non-US acquirer seeks to acquire a US target, if the target’s business includes US infrastructure, technology or energy assets, the acquirer and the target may need to file a notification with the government. The President can prevent a foreign company from acquiring a US company if the President views the acquisition as a threat to national security.
Liz had never heard of this, but for some reason somebody decided to delete a phrase from Owen’s draft. Only a few people had been making final changes. Only one person cared about a foreigner buying Babel. Only Katarina.
Liz stood and began to pace.
Katarina had told her that the Dubai prince wanted to purchase shares in Babel at a premium. And Liz knew what it meant: if she met with him and sold her own shares, then he would have a majority of Babel. He would control the company. A non-US acquirer seeks to acquire a US target.
Babel’s technology touched everyone, every day, in the United States. Her growing government relations office attested to the concern about it in Washington, DC. But she never thought the government could actually help her keep enough control to protect the data, even if she did sell and step down.
She turned her attention to the screen again. If Owen had included that line in the draft, he would have done more work on the issue.
She went to his files. The folders were again in perfect order. One was called “Foreign Investment.” And in it, a subfolder: “Legal analysis.”
There she found a law firm memo. She read the executive summary, and she knew. This was the answer, Owen’s answer. This was how she could stop Katarina’s plan.
Dylan had admitted that Katarina was somehow working behind Liz’s back to make the data public, but Dylan probably underestimated her. Liz had to be careful. Katarina couldn’t know about this, or she would fight back, find a way to stop it.
She looked up the bio of the attorney who had sent the analysis to Owen. His name was Christopher Planter. His pedigree was nearly as coifed as his grey hair in his website photo. Harvard and Yale. Supreme Court clerk and White House counsel. And now partner at this white-shoe firm, a partner who had left his cell number in the document.
Liz’s office clock said 3 am. 6 am on the East Coast. Early, but a guy like Mr. Planter should be awake. Liz slipped off her Babel and laid it on the desk. She walked to the door and pulled her jacket on. She made her way out of the building, her body tired, her thoughts racing.
The streets were empty. She strolled down toward the waterfront and made the call.
“Chris Planter,” he answered.
“Chris, this is Liz Trammel, CEO of Babel. You did some work for our general counsel, Owen Strand.”
“Yes.” He paused. “I read about what happened. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” She breathed in the cool air from the Bay, forcing herself to focus as she looked over the countless little waves rippling over the dark water. “I need to ask you a few questions about a memo that you wrote.”
“About foreign investment in Babel?”
“That’s right. I have new information. I need to make sure you’re the right person to help. Your bio says you worked in the White House?”
“Yes, during the President’s first term. I served three years as a legal adviser and left on good terms. The President and I remain close.”
Liz was shaking, nervous energy coursing through her. She sat on a bench facing the water. The salty air washed over her. “Do I need to have you sign something before I tell you what I need?”
“No. Owen had me sign a retainer, with complete confidentiality. He said it was of the utmost importance. He even said you might call. I’m at your service.”
Tears threatened to fill Liz’s eyes. Owen. Of course he’d thought of this. He was always brilliant, but now he was gone.
She steadied her voice. “I’m going to tell you everything. Can you reach the President soon?”
“Is today soon enough?”
Liz leaned back and smiled, staring over the water. Then she started, telling him first about her planned trip to London to meet the prince.
47
It was 4:30 am when Liz walked back into Babel’s offices. She rode up to the top floor and walked down the hall to her office. She felt more in control than she had in months. But her coffee was wearing off. She needed another cup to get through the morning.
She went to the break room and started brewing a pot.
“You really should get some sleep,” said a voice behind her.
Hunter Black, the chief engineer of her tower, stood in the doorway.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “And how did you get in?”
Hunter smiled. “I know my way around buildings.”
“Who are you working for?”
“You. All was well with the tower when I left last night.” His eyes went to the coffee pot. “Why don’t you pour me a cup, too?”
Liz filled two mugs, and they went to her office. Hunter took a seat across from her desk without asking.
“Before I start,” Hunter said, “you should know that your office is bugged.”
Liz swallowed. “Who?”
“Two groups, last time we checked. My team, the Americans, and the Russians.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because we’re the ones scrambling the Russian signal. All they hear is occasional typing in here, and a few conversations that we let through.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
Hunter walked to the window, gazing out. He turned back to her. “Nice view. You remember when I came here to interview for the job?”
“Yes. You seemed…honest.”
“Thanks. That’s my job. Jax was the one who invited me, and he did it because we told him to.”
“We?”
“You know about Jax’s fire hydrants?”
“Of course.”
“And his biggest customer?”
“The FBI?”
Hunter shook his head, smiling. “That’s domestic.”
Liz thought of what Jake’s grandfather had said: Hunter served with me in some rough places over the years. “The CIA.”
Hunter smiled. “Those fire hydrants have become mighty helpful around the world.” He returned to his seat, relaxed. “We’ve developed a close working relationship with Jax. He knew we’d try to protect you.”
“So your engineering credentials…”
“Every good agent has a track record.”
Liz sighed, leaning back in her chair. Jax.
She felt anger and confusion welling up, overwhelming her. After losing Owen, Jax was the only one left who she could trust. Was. Now there was no one. But she had to stay composed. A spy was in her office. She fixe
d her eyes on him. “Why are you telling me all this now?”
“Because of what you discovered last night. You need to slow down.”
“Slow down with what?”
“Raising flags about the share acquisition. You’ve got to let that go a little longer. We know about it, of course. But we’re not worried about Dubai. You have a much bigger problem on your hands.”
Liz thought of Owen’s warning months before. “Katarina?”
“Katarina Popova, aka Katarina Ivanovich, aka Sneaking Beauty. We’ve been onto her for a long time. She’s as good as they come, but we have almost everything we need to bring her in.”
“For what?”
“Espionage is my concern, but we don’t want our enemies to know how much we know. We’ve found another way to put her behind bars. Conspiracy, corporate theft, and securities fraud.”
“She’s done all that?”
“Not yet. You need to let her advance with her plan. She’s going to try to steal all the Babel data, and when she does, we’ll be ready to take her down.”
Liz tapped her desk. Even if Hunter was who he said he was, she had no reason to trust him. “I’m listening.”
“Just assure Katarina that everything is going according to plan,” Hunter said. “Let her keep plotting. We also need you to agree to sell your shares to the Dubai prince. You fly out today, yes?”
Liz felt exposed. He seemed to know everything. “Why?”
“Because Katarina expects it. She wants to make the whole deal look legit.”
“What about the President?”
“Katarina will know about that little conversation you just had. We were worried about that. I got here too late to warn you.” Hunter shrugged. “You weren’t supposed to figure out that option, at least not so soon.”
“A friend left me a clue.”
“You know what they say, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”
Liz put down her coffee. “I need to think this over.”
“You’ll need to think fast,” Hunter said. “Katarina will be here in twenty minutes for your morning briefing. I have to go now.”
“What if things don’t go as planned?”
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