“They usually don’t. But trust me, we’re on the same side.”
48
Hunter Black had been gone ten minutes when Katarina arrived for the morning briefing, prompt as usual. Her straight dark hair looked like a veil around her face.
“Hey Katarina.” Liz walked around her desk and sat on the edge, folding her bare feet beneath her. She still hadn’t slept. “What’s on deck today?”
Katarina studied her. “You were here all night?”
“A lot stacked up while I was at the tower.”
“Tell me about it…” Katarina rattled off quick summaries of the news. There had been a rough couple of days, but it was back on track. Babel was relisted as a hot stock, a company to watch. Opening share price projections were rising, with only three weeks until the IPO. “Most analysts have come to terms with the tower. Some are even getting excited about the research contests you’ve planned.”
“I knew they would be.”
“The only issue is liquidity.” Katarina nudged her glasses up to the bridge of her nose. “You’re spending so much on the tower. Cash is running low.”
“I know. That’s why I’m flying to London today.”
“Today?” Katarina’s eyebrows arched in surprise.
Liz wondered if she had known already, if this was another lie. “I’m going to meet with the prince from Dubai, the one you met with.”
Katarina was quiet a moment, her face revealing nothing. “It makes sense,” she said. “He told me he’d like to meet with you before he makes the final decision about buying your shares. We also didn’t know before exactly how much money you would need. How much do you plan to sell?”
“Whatever it takes,” Liz said. “But he’s not the only interested buyer who will be in London. Try to set up another meeting or two while I’m there. We can count that as part of the IPO road show, right?”
“Yes, will do. Anything else?” Katarina scribbled a note on her pad.
Liz glanced down at her jeans and bare feet. “Do you know what a naqib is?”
“It’s a black veil.”
“The kind that hides everything but the eyes?”
Katarina nodded.
“Okay, can you get one before I leave today?”
Katarina scribbled another note, her face blank. “Anything else?”
“That’s it.” Liz kept her tone flat. Business as usual. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
* * *
A smile spread across Katarina’s face as she walked out of Liz’s office. She went straight to her office and sent the encrypted text.
The target is leaving the country today.
Her partner responded in moments. Time to take the engineer?
Yes.
Katarina still needed Jax’s password. Softer methods had not worked. Dylan had confirmed what they’d found: Veruca was their best chance at getting access. Drug her and get whatever information you can to access the coder’s files.
We’ll get it. Then what do we do with the engineer?
Keep her hidden somewhere. Katarina paused. Better to be clear, and to get whatever leverage she could. And keep her alive.
Done. You’ll have the password by tomorrow.
49
The black veil drew stares—more than Liz’s flaxen blonde hair would—as she strolled down a main concourse in London Heathrow Airport. The cloth limited her vision. Glances to the side required a full head turn. The wrap’s warmth suffocated her air, like she was wearing a mask to keep viruses at bay.
Surprisingly, she kind of liked it. She liked the anonymity, the darkness, the mystique. For a girl who was known everywhere she went, it was nice to cloak up in disguise, especially in an airport.
She found the Emirates Admiral’s Club and showed her ticket to the guy at the desk. He studied the piece of paper. Then he glanced at her clothes and down to the screen on his pedestal desk. He finally met her eyes, failing to wipe the surprise from his face. “How was your flight, Ms. Trammell?”
“Not bad. Stale peanuts.”
His brow raised. “I see this is your first time visiting our club. Would you like an overview?”
“No thanks. I’m meeting someone.”
“Can I help you with an introduction?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Of course. Well, when you enter, if you take your first left, then the next left, you’ll find the women’s lounge.”
Apparently women in veils don’t get the main lounge. She walked in, skipping the first left, and looked around for a man in pink. The man with the tallest tower.
The main lounge held an odd mix of people. Some were Western businessmen with the finest suits and leather briefcases. But most wore head-to-toe white robes and full black beards. Aside from their attire, everything seemed as it should be for an airport lounge.
Liz approached a bar of food near the center of the room. The couscous smelled delicious, but she opted for a fruit cup.
Where is he? She’d expected the prince to spot her, grab her attention, and reveal himself. No one seemed to give her a second glance as she scanned the room.
She made her way to a soft leather seat by the window. She leaned back and pulled out her phone and began scrolling idly through photos people had posted. One had climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro. Another was bathing her two kids. A third—Dylan—shared a picture of his plate at a new restaurant overlooking the Bay.
“Elizabeth Trammell?”
The man facing her fit her expectations. His white robe failed to hide a rotund belly. His thick dark beard had speckles of gray. He looked like a man who knew wealth.
“Man with the tallest tower?” she asked.
He smiled and bowed slightly. “Please, follow me.”
She followed him down a hallway to a frosted glass door. He opened it and stepped to the side.
She walked in and found a man sitting alone, wearing a gleaming pink tie. He approached her with a smile. His teeth were perfectly white, his skin perfectly tan, his face perfectly beautiful. Liz—in her black robe—felt like a lump of coal compared to this man in his immaculate suit.
“Thank you for coming so far.” He held out his hand and peered through the narrow slit revealing Liz’s eyes. “And for wearing the naqib. Few will know we’ve met.”
She eyed his extended hand. It was thin and clean, as if it had never done a second of real work. It made her think of Jake Conrad and his weathered hands. “You don’t wear a robe?” she said.
He laughed, a rich and confident sound. His pristine hand dropped to his side. “We’re in London.” He shrugged. “Neutral territory. You wear my country’s style, and I wear yours.”
Liz’s gaze lingered on his pink tie. “Nice tie.”
“I’m happy to oblige your tastes. Pink for Saturday, is it not?” He smiled knowingly. “I must say, you look ravishing in black.”
Ravishing? Who says that? “It’s a little somber.”
“It brings out the sapphire in your eyes.”
Liz crossed her arms.
“My apologies.” His head bowed graciously. “It’s just that, while I’ve seen the pictures and read the reports, they don’t do you justice.”
Liz’s arms stayed crossed. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her elbows. “You want to show me your tower?”
He nodded, a playful look in his eyes. “You’re very forward. Come, I will show you.”
He directed her to a seat at a long conference table, and he sat opposite from her. A screen lowered from the ceiling.
“Would you like anything to drink?” he asked.
She met his stare. “I’ll take a bourbon.”
His smile faltered, then flickered back on. “Straight?”
“One cube.”
The man pressed the watch on his wrist, and his white-robed assistant showed up a moment later.
“Two pours of the oldest Macallan here. One cube each.”
The man nodded. Liz had not expected the
prince to try to match her. Weren’t Muslims not supposed to drink?
“The thing about towers,” he said, motioning to the screen, “is that only one can be tallest.”
On the left side of the screen, Liz saw the image that she had released to the press. Her tower’s long lines reached up into the sky to a pinnacle.
The servant brought in two tumblers of liquid like gold. He hurried out.
Liz sipped it and set the drink down. “And?”
He did not touch his glass. “And mine has long been the tallest.”
On the right side of the screen, beside her tower, another tower appeared. Its top came into place below her tower.
“What’s the point?” Liz asked.
His perfectly charming smile did not match the intensity of his eyes. “For now at least, I am still the man with the tallest tower.”
She swirled her drink. “You have a few more weeks.”
“I guess you’re right, but you know…we’ll never be satisfied by towers.”
Liz’s stomach churned. She stood, drink in hand, and walked to the window. I will be satisfied, this time.
He came to her side. “You need cash, yes?”
She set her drink on the floor and pulled the veil off her head. She shook out her undoubtedly matted and tangled hair. “I do not consider selling my shares lightly,” she said. “I wanted to make sure that you weren’t some pompous man with an inferiority complex, that you couldn’t stand to see a woman outdo you, that you wouldn’t want to pull out your manhood and parade it in front of me as if I’d be impressed. I’m not.”
He was no longer smiling. “I expected that you would surprise me in some way. Everyone who knows you says you can be…unpredictable.”
She went back to the table. The two towers still stood on the screen. She stared at him. “I know men, and you’re one of them.”
“You know American men.”
The words made her think again of Jake. This man was all groomed and worldly. Jake was grit and overalls. But something about them was similar. “Is this about anything more than your ego?”
He laughed. “It is.”
“What do you want?”
“I wanted to see if what people said about you is true.”
“Well?”
He sipped his drink and winced. “You have fire. That much is true. But a piece of the puzzle is missing.”
“Only one?”
“With a few day’s notice, you flew all the way to London to meet a potential investor. Why would a woman who has everything do that? Just for money?”
“Curiosity, I suppose. You’re the one who texted me.”
“Guilty. But I think it’s more than curiosity that drives you. It’s the same thing that led me to ask you to come here. It’s the same thing that makes a singular, tall tower remarkable.”
She studied him, intrigued.
“It’s lonely at the top,” he said.
True enough. “You have to accept some compromises to rise this high.”
The prince smiled. “And let me guess, your compromise has been friendship, love?”
“That’s no concern of yours.”
“We’ll see,” he said. “We all compromise something. Your colleague is compromising far more.”
“What do you mean?”
“She met with me again recently. She is a dangerous woman.”
“Katarina?”
“Do you know she is a spy?”
Liz thought of what Hunter had told her, but would the prince reveal more? She kept her voice even. “She’s passed vetting at the highest level. I wouldn’t have hired her unless she passed the strictest scrutiny. Her background checks were clean. She’s Russian, she’s ambitious. So?”
The prince pulled a folded piece of paper out of his coat and placed it on the table. “Read.”
Liz sat and studied the page. The words TOP SECRET appeared in bright red at the top. It was a short bio of Katarina Popova, aka Katarina Ivanovich. The daughter of convicted Soviet spies—a polymath, a mystery. The page told of her success in modeling, in school. No one could explain the funding that she’d received. No one could explain the regular calls she made to a secure line in Russia.
Liz looked up. “How do you know this is accurate?”
“Katarina thinks she has a deal with me, but our government has long suspected her. This company of yours gave us an opportunity to make contact. We think we can prove it soon enough. We can catch her, with your help.”
Liz felt deja vu. Hunter Black had said the same thing. “Is your government working alone?”
“Not entirely,” the prince said. “We know the Americans want to catch Ms. Popova. We know they met with you. We also know they are not telling you everything. You think it’s a coincidence that their agent is building your tower?”
Liz kept her expression calm. “They’re right about Katarina. She wants the data.”
“Yes. And they’ve bugged your tower.”
Liz had considered that, and hated the possibility. She needed to talk to Jax about Hunter. “What do you propose?”
“First, pretend that you know nothing.”
“I’m already doing that.”
“Good. The next thing you need is money, and to show Katarina that things are going according to her plan. So I’ll lend you four billion dollars now, if you’ll sell half of your shares to me once the quiet time passes after the IPO.”
Liz considered the offer. She would get the cash now, plenty to finish the tower, and she’d sell her stock after the quiet time—that was six months from now. Not bad. “What price for my shares?”
“Market price.”
“And what if that’s not enough to pay back the loan?”
The prince smiled. “We’ll call it even.”
The deal sounded too good. At current price projections, Liz knew that half of her shares were worth about two billion, so either the prince expected the market price to double, or he was leaving something out. “When I show up with that much money,” Liz said, “Katarina will be suspicious.”
“Not if you tell her you agreed to sell all your shares.”
It was a simple lie, but it might work. Katarina would think the prince would be acquiring complete control, but he would only own a fourth of Babel’s stock. Liz would keep one fourth.
It still didn’t add up. It meant the Prince was willing to pay two billion dollars to catch a single Russian spy in America. “What’s in it for you?” Liz asked.
“Katarina is the tip of the iceberg. We want to catch the others working with her. This distraction will draw more of them out.” The prince paused, studying Liz. “We also would like Babel to open an office in Dubai. A new headquarters for the Eastern Hemisphere.”
“When?” Liz asked. She didn’t like the idea, but if they could keep the Babel data servers in her tower, the risk would be limited.
“Within a year. You have a speech coming soon, for your IPO. Think about my offer, and if you agree, announce this plan about the Dubai office during the speech. The funds will transfer immediately.”
It sounded too easy. And this man had already shown he was willing to lie to get what he wanted.
“What else?” Liz asked, stalling.
“That’s all for now. Two easy things—tell Katarina that you will sell all your shares to me, and announce the new Dubai headquarters.”
Liz could play along for now, for the tower. She held out her hand. “It’s a deal.”
They shook on it. His hand was much softer than Jake’s.
50
The sound inside the tower was almost unbearable. Katarina and Jax wore earplugs as they climbed the stairs. Construction pressed ahead on the higher floors, making the stairwell an echo chamber as steel and concrete were forged into place. The skyscraper’s facade had reached floor 250 just last week. They were adding two floors a day. Working overtime. Using machines. Conquering gravity.
Liz let the thrum of constant hammering and clangin
g metal sink into her and rattle her bones. It was progress. It was her tower rising.
They stepped out of the stairwell on floor 142. The sound wasn’t so loud there. The bare concrete stretched out like an ocean in every direction until it met the sky. Exposed steel beams and pipe ran along the ceiling. It would be another week before the walls were finished here.
Liz loved the expectant feel of the space. She turned to Jax, the latest friend to betray her. “You still want your office on this corner?”
He pulled out his earplugs. His face was flush, breathing heavy. “Sorry?”
“Your office.” Liz pointed to the southwest corner. “Still want it there?”
“Yeah,” he said, “as long as the elevators are working, it’s perfect. Love the view, but I’m not taking that many stairs again.”
“Why did you want us to come here?” Katarina’s shirt clung to her body, affixed by sweat. She wiped her forehead.
That was one reason Liz picked this place. They had to work to get here. But she answered with a different reason. “No better place for a private discussion.”
“About?” Katarina asked.
“The IPO.” Liz leaned against a concrete column as thick as she was tall. Five feet separated her from open air. The wind was swirling. “I received your message, Katarina.”
Katarina nodded. No reaction.
Liz looked to Jax. “And I’ve been thinking about our code, how it’s protected.”
Jax’s eyes grew wider. “You know it has to stay that way.”
“That’s the trouble,” Liz said. “See, you both want different things. I understand that now. Maybe you both have good intentions. But I’ve found a different way.”
“What?” Jax and Katarina asked at the same time. They exchanged a glance, then looked back to Liz.
Liz took her time. “I’ve seen this farmer a few times. You know, the one who wouldn’t sell his land. I was there one morning and we found a hurt bird. Broken wing, I guess. We brought it inside, gave it shelter and rest. If that bird had been left out outside, it would have died. But if the bird heals, we’ll have to set it free. We’ll have done our part, nursing it back to health, but birds are meant for the open air.”
The Babel Tower Page 20