The Babel Tower Page 3

  “Food?” Owen said, half hidden behind his Babel mug.

  Liz smiled faintly, but didn’t laugh. “Of course, and I’ll keep giving money for that, but their need is deeper. What they need is hope. Hope for humanity. It’s what we all need, a symbol and a place of hope.”

  “So…the moon or Mars?” Jax asked.

  “Neither,” Liz said. “The needs are here, on earth. Just think, what do people always remember about a civilization?”

  No one answered.

  “Here’s a hint: the Egyptian Pyramids, the Roman Coliseum, the Great Wall of China.”

  “You want to build a new world wonder?” Dylan asked.

  Liz nodded to Rachel. “I’ve decided what to do. I’m going to use my dad’s design to build the tallest tower the world has ever seen. A new Babel headquarters. A symbol of what our company means, and a secure place to store our data servers. A place of freedom and brilliance and hope.”

  “I wish I hadn’t suggested it.” The edge in Rachel’s voice made the room grow quiet. “You already have a skyscraper.”

  “This building is nothing special,” Liz said, noticing the dark circles under her friend’s eyes. “I want to build something spectacular. A symbol.”

  “This is one of the tallest buildings in San Francisco. You’re on the top floor. You’re in the corner office.” Rachel stared down Liz like a big sister. “If this isn’t enough for you, why do you think another column of steel would be? Just because of your dad?”

  Liz hesitated. Rachel was probably just underslept and exhausted. Weren’t new mothers always like that? Maybe Liz shouldn’t have asked her to come again so soon. “It’s not about me,” Liz said.

  “Rachel has a point,” Dylan said, running a hand through his red hair. “It would cost a fortune. If you want to give the world hope, we can set up a new foundation. It could still be innovative. Like a seed fund or something.” He paused, leaning forward. “Or how about a research institute to study the world’s conversations? You have the data.”

  Liz shook her head. “I’m going to build a tower.”

  “Why?” Rachel asked.

  Liz leveled her bright blue eyes on Rachel. “I already told you. It will bring together the best. It will be a beacon of hope and freedom. The possibilities are endless.”

  Rachel shrugged.

  “You don’t believe me…you want me to say it’s for my dad?”

  The room fell quiet. Rachel’s voice came out soft: “It won’t bring him back.”

  “It’s what he would have wanted.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Rachel, we saw him, hunched over his designs night after night. It was this masterpiece that dragged him down. You know how much he wanted to build it.”

  “He went mad trying...” Emotion laced Rachel’s voice.

  “I won’t let that happen to me.” Liz glanced around the group. “I’m doing this for bigger reasons, and I have you to keep me sane, right?”

  “We’ll do more than that,” Owen said, injecting a playful tone. “I’ll handcuff myself to you, if that’s what it takes.”

  Dylan laughed. “I’d share the honor.”

  Jax eyed the two other guys. “What can we do to help? That’s why you called us here, isn’t it?”

  Liz nodded. “I can always count on you. We need to brainstorm.”

  “We’re not architects,” Owen replied.

  “But her dad was,” Rachel said.

  “Yes.” Liz met her friend’s eyes calmly. “It’ll be his design, only bigger. So my big question today is: where to build it? I have an idea, but what do you think?”

  The group sat in an odd silence. Rachel was shaking her head, looking down.

  “You probably want maximum exposure,” Jax said. “The more people who see it, the better. And somewhere without earthquakes, I guess. Why not Manhattan or Chicago?”

  “Boring,” Dylan said. “Besides, if you want billions to see the tower, your best bet is China.”

  “That’s insane,” Owen said. “The Chinese government could just take it. We don’t want to mess with that. It should be somewhere free from government interference.”

  Liz was glad she’d included the lawyer in this group. She hadn’t known Owen as long as the others, but he was loyal. She watched his foot tap idly, each dip of the white leather moccasin revealing dark-skinned ankle under his skinny jeans. No socks, lots of style. “Okay, so not China. Where would you build it?” she asked him.

  Owen’s foot stopped mid-tap. “Outside any country’s sovereign territory, to have complete control. You could build it two hundred miles from the coast. Maybe south of Japan, in the Philippines Sea.”

  “Seriously?” Jax asked. “Asia? That’s the best you can come up with?”

  “It’s a donut hole,” Owen said. “Japan owns all the surrounding waters, plus the U.S. has military nearby, but one area in the middle cannot be claimed. It’s the high seas, and we can build there.”

  “Works for me,” Dylan added. “Half the world lives nearby—China, India, Japan, Indonesia.”

  “So…in the middle of the ocean?” Liz asked. “It’s kind of deep, from what I hear.”

  “It can be done,” Owen replied. “You just drill pylons into the ocean floor, like one of those deep sea oil rigs.”

  “And we’ll add a desalination system,” Dylan said. “That way we won’t pull from other limited freshwater sources. The climate is warm there, too. The sides of the tower can grow enough food to feed everyone.”

  Liz smiled, imagining thousands of plants sprouting along its sides. She had envisioned something quite different—pure and simple, glass and steel. She turned to Rachel. “What do you think?”

  Rachel breathed out heavily. “I think this is a very bad idea.”

  “Oh?” Liz said, her smile unwavering.

  “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say, and…I don’t know what to say, Liz, but my senses scream danger.”

  “Your senses?” Jax asked.

  Rachel kept her eyes on Liz. “We all know what happened to your dad. And think about your company’s name. You think it’s just a coincidence? You’re really going to build the Tower of Babel?”

  Dylan let out a small laugh. “Oh, that’s good.”

  “No, it’s not,” Rachel said. “Do you know what happened to that tower?”

  “We’re not here to talk about religion.” Liz’s brow had turned down, forming a severe angle across her face.

  “What happened?” Rachel insisted.

  “God knocks down the tower,” Liz said. “No wonder, they were building with bricks.”

  Rachel shook her head. “God didn’t knock down the tower. He made all the people speak different languages, scattering them.”

  Liz tapped the unit by her ear. “So what? We’ve solved that now.”

  “It’s not that simple.” Rachel looked to Owen, but he only shrugged. “What God cares about is pride, not languages or towers.”

  Liz stood, rocking on the balls of her bare feet, hand to her chin. “Look, I’m not denying it takes some pride to do this. I’m proud of what we’ve built at Babel, and I’ll be proud of this tower. People have built plenty of impressive things that are still standing.”

  “It’s why we build that matters. I’m worried about your reasons for doing this.”

  “You suggested it,” Liz said.

  “It was a joke. A bad joke.”

  “But you were right, Rach. The tower idea is perfect. We just have to make sure we do it the right way.” Liz paused. “I want a secure location. I’ve been thinking about somewhere in the midwest. It’ll be visible for miles, much lower construction costs, and safely in the heart of the United States.”

  “Safely in the middle of nowhere,” Owen said. “If you want obscurity, sure, stick it in Kansas.”

  “Nebraska,” Jax said. “It would be better in Nebraska.”

  All eyes turned to him.

  “Why?” Rachel
asked, sounding alarmed.

  “Two reasons,” Jax answered. “The first is water. The midwest is not a bad idea if the goal is to build something huge and safe at a low cost, but the area is dry. We’d need some guaranteed source of water. And Nebraska sits on top of a huge underground aquifer.”

  “What’s the second reason?” Rachel asked.

  Jax looked up at her, then turned to Liz. “Because Liz was born there.”

  “I was born there too, but you don’t see me trying to build a skyscraper in a cornfield.” Rachel took a deep breath. “I care about you, Liz, so I’m going to be honest with you. I think the money has gone to your head. If you want to give it to the poor, I’ll help. But building a tower is a waste, no matter where you build it.”

  “This is not going to be just a building. It’s going to be a way to inspire, a place to gather the world’s best to tackle the hardest problems. And our hometown could have front row seats.”

  Rachel crossed her arms, clutching her elbows. “You know this isn’t about them. It’s about you.”

  Liz shook her head. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

  “You’re not a savior.”

  The room was still. Then Liz spoke quietly, too quietly and too controlled. “I am sad you are opposed. But I know this is what I need to do. I’m sorry I won’t have your support.”

  “So that’s it?” Rachel asked.

  Liz nodded. “Thank you for coming anyway.” The implication was clear. Rachel was free to leave.

  The tension fled from Rachel’s face, replaced by sadness. “You know where I’ll be.”

  No one spoke as Rachel stood and walked out. Liz’s normally energetic body deflated like a balloon as she sat back on her desk.

  “So…we’re still with you,” Jax said. “Want us to get started now, trying to find the right location?”

  Liz studied her hands resting in her lap. “Yeah, that would be great. I need to try to get my dad’s sketches. I thought Rachel would help with that…” She looked up, resolve in her eyes. “But Katarina can track them down. Owen, do some digging in Nebraska. Look for a place where we can buy 100,000 acres without breaking the bank and with some sort of government support. I want a break from regulations. Understood?”

  “I’m on it,” Owen said.

  “How can I help?” Dylan asked.

  “You’re always good with big ideas. Think about what I might be missing. Something to get people excited.” Liz gazed at the door where Rachel had exited. “I want this tower to withstand anything, from the government to God’s fury.”

  Jax smiled. “Deep foundations. Lots of steel. We’ll handle it.”

  “Good.” Liz glanced down at her yellow sweater. It was Friday, still early. “I want to announce it soon. Think we can finish before Babel goes public?”

  “The whole tower?” Owen asked. “I guess it’s possible, but we’ll need a lot of cash. That could be hard before the IPO. It’s hardly a year…”

  “Right, and it’s while I still control the company.” Liz’s eyes went to the door. “Some people might doubt us, but if we keep moving forward, the world will start to see. We’re going to give people something to believe in.”

  6

  Katarina felt right at home in the Babel company jet. Halfway over the Atlantic, suspended between Russia and America, she flew to the newest cradle of skyscrapers, Dubai. Liz’s instructions had been simple: bring back my father’s design, at any price.

  That’s Liz’s problem, Katarina thought. The girl did not value her wealth. Americans were always flinging away their money. They had the freedom to use it, but without understanding how. Russians understood: money is power, and so money must be retained and multiplied at all costs. And where money was lacking, power must be used to acquire it. One could never last long without the other.

  The jet landed in Dubai early in the morning. The summer sun was already so hot that it would have baked Katarina’s pale skin if she exposed an inch of it. The black cloth covering her head to toe had some benefits. She walked to the white luxury car waiting on the runway and rode straight to the palace. It was amazing the doors that Babel could open.

  Servants escorted her to an immense waiting room. She sat on an ornate chair and admired the art on the walls. It was more modern than she would have expected. A servant brought her an espresso. At 10 am sharp, the doors to an office opened. A man with a thin, oiled beard and a fashionable grey suit approached her.

  “Ms. Popova?” His face wore a playful grin.

  Katarina bowed low. “It is an honor to meet Your Royal Highness.”

  The prince’s face registered understanding, which relieved Katarina. He was wearing his Babel. “Come, we will talk of your request.”

  She followed him through the tall, gilded doors into an office dripping in wealth. She took scrupulous mental notes. Thick, crimson curtains twenty feet high. White marble floors with golden veins. The desk and chairs had clawed feet standing on the marble, their polish reflecting the sun streaming through the windows. Much better than Liz’s bare, modern office, Katarina thought. Power had to be projected properly to be wielded properly.

  The prince motioned to two green velvet chairs by the window. A small glass table stood between them. Katarina sat and crossed her legs, tugging the black robe up to reveal her slender ankle. She needed whatever advantage she could get.

  The prince sat across from her and clasped his hands in his lap. “You have made an interesting request.”

  “Ms. Trammell has grand ambitions.”

  “Just like her father. I never had the pleasure of meeting him, but many in my country were impressed by his designs.”

  “You still have them?”

  “I agreed to meet with you, did I not?” He smiled. “It is only one large sheet of drafting paper, but I think it is what Ms. Trammell seeks.”

  “I would like to see it.”

  “You have an update for me?”

  “She will be selling her shares. Maybe all of them by the time she’s finished. She’ll need the cash to fund the construction.”

  “And our plan remains the same?”

  Katarina retrieved the paper from inside her black abaya cloak and laid it on the table between them. “Yes.”

  The prince took the sheet and reviewed it. His eyes met Katarina’s. “You are an interesting woman.”

  “Our goals are not so different.”

  “Oh?”

  “We both understand what it means to be second in command.”

  “My father is a good leader.”

  “I’m sure he is, but he stands between you and the position you were born to hold. For you, it is only a matter of time. For me, the company does not have such a succession plan.” She paused. “So I am creating it.”

  The prince lifted a tiny espresso cup from the table. It looked like it was made of gold. He sipped it, eyes never leaving Katarina. “But still you would not have the majority of shares.”

  “Power takes many forms, Your Highness. Some are content to sit on the throne. Some to own the shares. I want access to the data.”

  “And the money?”

  Katarina shrugged. “It will come.”

  “Your price is steep.”

  “I never claimed to be cheap.”

  The prince laughed, stood, and began to pace in front of the window. His figure cast a long morning shadow over Katarina and the room. He paused before Katarina and gazed down at her. “Stand.”

  It sounded like a test. She obeyed, rising and meeting his dark eyes.

  “Let me be clear,” he said. “You will be agreeing to serve my interests, whatever I want.”

  Katarina put a playful tone in her answer. “The CEO bends over backwards to serve the shareholders.”

  “And I will own the majority of the shares. You understand my objectives?”

  “To purify our words.” She glanced down at the paper on the table. “It’s written there. No more blasphemy. No more profanity,
vulgarity, or heresy. We must know what people say to change what they say, right?”

  The prince smiled. “You will unlock Babel’s data for me. It is no small matter to change the language of the world.” He stepped closer.

  “Yes. The data will be yours.” And I will be the gatekeeper. Everyone wanted the Babel data for some purpose. Dylan wanted it open to the world, but that would only destroy its power. The prince wanted to use it to change the world, but that was naive. Liz wanted it hidden, to feed her own company’s profits. Katarina wanted it for power.

  The prince took another step forward. His arm found the small of Katarina’s back. His face drew close. She could smell his breath—coffee and cloves and cinnamon. “I own many rooms without cameras, without microphones,” he whispered. “But you will be monitored wherever you go.”

  Katarina looked up into his eyes. “Except when I’m with you?”

  The prince stepped back. “You must prove your loyalty. You have promises to keep.”

  Katarina nodded, her body tense, unaccustomed to being rebuffed. “I will keep them,” she said. “And yours? The design?”

  The prince stepped to the desk and pulled out a drawer. He held out a roll of blueprint paper. “This is the last design of Mr. Trammell. His daughter will be pleased.”

  “You’re sure there are no copies?”

  “Yes, as far as I know. It was the strict terms of the proposal that only hand-drawn entries would be accepted in the first round, and that no copies were permitted. We have not replicated this.”

  Katarina took the paper and unfurled it on the desk. She looked over the fine lines of the blueprint, the tower. She glimpsed a small handwritten note at the bottom: This is the last of my vault. Behind the veil, the girl, and the hope—lost and gone forever. She had no clue what it meant.

  “Why did you reject the design?” she asked.

  “It was my father’s decision. He once said that our country would always be more than a single tower.” The prince’s royal finger traced the outlines of the tower’s expansive base. “This design was too…open and free, even revolutionary. It would have dominated our land. It would have made our Grand Mosque an afterthought.”