by Barry Eisler
She found a television station. Reporters were standing outside the house, which was surrounded by police tape. A stunned-looking uniformed cop the chyron identified as being with the Bonney Lake Police Department was briefing the press. Five bodies inside, all shot to death. A reporter asked if this had anything to do with the shootings the day before in Freeway Park and the Four Seasons, or with Andrew Schrader’s escape from prison. The cop stammered that she didn’t know. Rispel almost sympathized. Before this morning, probably the cop’s toughest case had been a couple of teenagers breaking into an empty off-season lakefront vacation home.
She watched for another minute. A television crew had managed to get behind the house and was showing footage of one of the walls. There was a large hole blown in a second-story wall. Windows broken on the first floor. Evidence of a coordinated, professional entry by a trained team.
She stared at the screen for another moment, then exited the site. She tried to think.
Somehow, someone had gotten intel on where they had been holding Schrader.
Devereaux?
Maybe. But her gut told her otherwise. Her gut told her Kanezaki.
It made sense. He had sabotaged the initial operation. He’d lied to her afterward. And he was missing now, incommunicado. Rispel had people watching his house, and he hadn’t gone home. His cellphone was off. He was a prick, but obviously he wasn’t stupid.
And it wasn’t just him. His little spy, Maya, was also in the wind. Rispel had sent a contractor to her house, and the idiot had shot the wrong person—another officer, as it turned out. Maya had given a statement to local police and then disappeared, probably with Kanezaki. Rispel sensed it wouldn’t be long before Devereaux found a way to incorporate the shooting of a young intelligence officer into the tale of Russian disinformation he was spinning.
All right. Assume they have Schrader now. What’s their next move?
Kanezaki was after the videos, of course. How could he not be? Anyone who controlled that information would have almost undreamt-of power.
She had to assume they’d learn from Schrader everything Sloat had been able to extract. So it stood to reason that their next move would be what hers was going to be. A team had come for Schrader that very morning. They were going to bring him to his Bainbridge Island house, drug him, and have him reset the system. Then more interrogations until they had enough information to take control of the videos themselves.
So. With Schrader in hand, why wouldn’t Kanezaki do the same?
It wasn’t a sure thing, of course. Schrader had six houses, and apparently he could reset the system from any of them. From his private plane, too. Kanezaki might not use the Bainbridge Island house.
But she thought he would. The dead-man switch meant time was of the essence. The nearest house would be tempting. Kanezaki would confirm it wasn’t being watched, just as she had. At which point, he’d go for the low-hanging fruit.
In fact . . . it might just make sense to let him pick it. And then take it from him, before he’d even gotten a taste.
chapter
fifty-eight
LIVIA
Ten miles west of Lake Tapps, Livia started to let out her breath. The sirens were long gone. Realizing they were out of danger, they all got a little giddy. Even Livia was laughing. “How the hell did you move that refrigerator?” she said to Carl. “It must have weighed three hundred pounds.”
“I think more,” he said, rubbing his back. “But I’ll tell you, when I heard the shots and realized what that hombre was shooting at us, that refrigerator felt about as light as a can of Diet Coke.” He turned to Larison. “How about you? How’d you get pinned down up there?”
“Bad luck,” Larison said. “The guy was in another room, so the breach charge surprised him, but he wasn’t stunned. He had good cover and all I had was a bureau that seemed as small to me as I’ll bet that refrigerator felt to you.”
“Yeah,” Carl said, “we had some shit luck, too. Dropping a flashbang in an empty room. About as useful as shouting, ‘Good morning.’ And to a house full of guys with automatic shotguns, too.”
They all laughed again. Schrader, his wrists flex-tied behind his back, started crying.
Carl looked at him. “You all right?”
Schrader shook his head and glared at Larison. “Why did you kick me?”
Larison looked taken aback. “You were screaming. How’d you want me to shut you up?”
“Who cares if I was screaming? There were already explosions!”
Larison looked at Carl as though expecting help. Carl said, “Well, he has a point.”
“And those men,” Schrader said. “They hurt me.”
Carl looked at him with what seemed genuine concern. “What’d they do to you?”
“They put me in the bathtub. And wrapped a towel around my face and poured water on it. Again and again.”
Carl glanced at Livia and Larison, then back to Schrader. “It’s called waterboarding. I had it done to me once and I still have nightmares. Nobody deserves that.” He glanced at Livia again, then added, “Well, almost nobody.”
Diaz said, “What did you tell them, Andrew?”
“Can you untie me?”
“Later. What did you tell them?”
He sniffled. “I don’t even remember.”
“Okay,” she said. “But if you want my help, you better help me.”
Schrader didn’t answer. He just sat there, weeping. Livia had questions of her own, but Diaz knew what she was doing. And it was generally better to have one person leading an interrogation.
“It’s okay,” Diaz said. “It’s okay. What did they ask you? Start with that.”
Schrader shook his head. “The videos. The system. What I told you about at the detention center.”
“Okay,” Diaz said. “What did they want to know?”
“How it worked.”
“And what did you tell them?”
“What I told you. That I have to reset it. Or . . . or . . .”
“Or what?”
“Or the shot across the bow. Which has already happened, I think, but I don’t even know what day it is. I’m so tired. Please, just take me back to jail, I don’t care anymore. And I think I want to talk to my lawyer.”
“Okay,” Diaz said. “The shot across the bow happened all right. Yesterday. So what’s coming next?”
“More shots,” Schrader said.
Livia had to bite her tongue. She reminded herself Diaz was doing fine without her.
“What kind of shots?” Diaz said.
“The men. With the girls.”
“What men?” Diaz said.
Schrader didn’t answer.
“We know some of them,” Diaz said. “The attorney general, the director of National Intelligence . . . who else?”
Schrader looked alarmed. “How do you know that?”
Diaz shook her head. “It’s a long story. But those are the people who are after you now. Who’s with them? If we don’t know that, we can’t help you.”
Schrader sniffled. “It’s a lot of people.”
“I’m sure,” Diaz said. “But who?”
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
There was a long beat. Schrader said, “Connected people. Top people.”
“What are their names?” Diaz said.
Schrader shook his head.
“You’re not going to tell us?” Diaz said.
“I don’t want to get in trouble,” Schrader said.
Livia knew what everyone was thinking: How much more trouble could you get in?
But that wouldn’t have been a useful thing to ask.
It was obvious Schrader wasn’t going to say more, and Diaz, a good interrogator, knew it was time to shift gears. “Okay, so when is the next release?”
“If the first one happened yesterday,” Schrader said, “then tomorrow. Every forty-eight hours after the first one.”
“What time tomo
rrow?”
“Eleven at night, Greenwich Mean Time.”
“Which is what time here?”
“Three o’clock in the afternoon,” Livia said.
“Andrew,” Diaz said, “that doesn’t sound good. You know, if too many shots get fired, the gun’s going to be empty. What are you going to do then?”
“I don’t know!”
Diaz glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Then we better reset that system, don’t you think?”
“If I do . . . do you promise you’ll help me?” He started crying again.
“Yes,” Diaz said. “I promise.”
Livia didn’t know if she meant it. But it didn’t matter. It was Diaz’s promise, not hers.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Carl said. “What do you need to say to that system of yours? You know, is it abracadabra, or can you say anything at all, and it recognizes your voice?”
“It’s a phrase,” Schrader said.
“What phrase?”
“You’ll know when I say it. I’m not telling you beforehand. Besides, there’s also a retina scan, a thumbprint, and a passcode.”
Carl glanced at Livia, then back to Schrader. “A lot of locks you built into that door.”
“I didn’t want anyone else using it.”
“What if something had happened to you?” Carl said. “I mean, none of us is immortal, or immune from accident.”
Schrader shrugged. “I just didn’t want them to put me in jail again. It was lucky that first time, that I had the videos. And I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not even in the videos. Why should they try to put me in jail? I didn’t do anything those other people didn’t do, too.”
You provided the girls, Livia wanted to shout. Located them, enticed them, tricked them, drugged them, trafficked them. And after you used them, you sold them like a product to other buyers.
Carl looked at her as though reading her mind. She gave him an I’m okay nod.
“What about the girls?” Livia said.
Schrader looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“If you release those videos, it’s going to ruin their lives.”
Schrader scowled. “They’re trying to ruin mine. Diaz said they’re going to testify that I had sex with them! That I . . . that I raped them. And made them have sex with other men.”
“Did you?” Livia said.
“That’s not the point. I was nice to them. I gave them money. Rides on my helicopter and plane. Introduced them to celebrities. I don’t understand how they could be so mean.”
“Most of them aren’t testifying,” Diaz said.
Schrader just sat there, his mouth scrunched into a pout.
“Do you understand?” Diaz said. “I contacted over a hundred girls. Most of them were terrified of what would happen if this came out. The media scrutiny. Their families. Some of them have husbands now, children, who don’t even know. What about them? They didn’t turn on you. They’re still protecting you. How can you let those videos come out and destroy them? Who’s the one who’s being mean now?”
Not for the first time when she was listening to Diaz, Livia was impressed. The woman had the interrogator’s knack for setting aside her own outrage, her own disgust, and addressing the subject in whatever terms he indicated would make sense to him. Speaking his own language.
“It’s not . . . ,” Schrader said. “I mean, I don’t want to. I wasn’t going to. You’re the one who arrested me.”
“No,” Diaz said. “The release of those videos has nothing to do with your arrest. You designed the system. You automated it. The videos aren’t a part of my case—I didn’t even know about their existence until you told me. Do you see? You’re going to ruin those innocent girls, girls who like you, who think you’re nice, who are grateful to you, who are protecting you—for nothing. I don’t understand. How can you be so mean?”
The interior of the van was silent. Livia knew Diaz and Carl would be perceptive enough to let the silence work on Schrader. She was only worried about Larison, who could occasionally lose his patience. Not that she could throw stones.
But this time, Larison stayed cool. After a moment, Schrader said, “Well, I don’t want to. But what am I supposed to do?”
“First,” Diaz said, “you help us reset the system.”
Schrader nodded. “Okay. I will.”
“And then,” Livia said, “help us blur out the faces of those girls.”
Schrader looked at her. “What? No.”
“Why not?” Livia said.
“Because . . . I don’t want to show you how it’s designed. I don’t want to give you access.”
“I get it,” Diaz said. “But you know, Andrew, if those videos come out, it makes your case worse. It’s more evidence of the allegations against you.”
“But then you could just drop the case.”
“I’m just an assistant US Attorney. Those decisions are above my pay grade. But look, there are two possibilities. One is the videos never come out. The other is they do come out. If they never come out, you won’t have lost anything in helping us blur out the girls’ faces. If they do come out, you can impress the judge by showing how you cooperated. To protect those girls. Not the men—they’re hypocrites, they deserve it. Besides, the videos would lose their impact if the men weren’t in them. But the girls’ faces? Help us blur them. That’s what a nice guy would do, anyway.”
“I guess so,” Schrader said.
“Maybe you don’t believe me,” Diaz said, “but I believe in you. I want you to do the right thing, Andrew. Will you?”
Diaz glanced at him in the rearview mirror, and Livia could sense how much Schrader wanted her approval. When it came to establishing rapport, Livia had worked with some of the best. And no doubt, Diaz was among them.
“Will you really help me?” he said. “Tell the judge I wasn’t mean or anything?”
Diaz nodded. “Yes.”
“But what if I can’t?” he said, his eyes welling up. “Because . . . I’m upset. Those men . . . they really hurt me. And if someone tries to make me, it won’t work. Because of the voice-stress analyzer. I thought it would be a good idea, but I shouldn’t have done it. It’s like when someone’s watching you pee, and you can’t.” He started crying again.
Livia looked at Carl. He nodded. “It’s all right,” he said. “Andrew, it’s all right.” He took out a plastic water bottle. “I’m going to fix you a drink. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.”
chapter
fifty-nine
RAIN
They were still in the hotel room, talking about their next move, when Delilah’s phone buzzed. For a second, Rain was alarmed, and then remembered it was connected to the satellite hotspot.
She picked up and listened for a moment, then looked at Rain. “It’s Dox. They got Schrader.” She listened again, then said, “That’s great. But you should brief him yourself.” She looked at Rain again. “No, he’s not mad at you. Hold on.” She handed Rain the phone.
“Everything good?” Rain said.
“Hey, amigo,” Dox said. “You’re really not mad at me?”
“For what?”
“Come on, don’t pretend. It makes it worse.”
“All you did was go out of your way to get involved in a national freak show involving some of the world’s most powerful people, drag Delilah and me into it, and ruin a beautiful evening in Paris, along with my retirement.”
Dox laughed. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve gotten funnier with age? I think it’s my influence.”
“Who’s being funny?”
“I deliberately didn’t call you, you know. I thought the angel of death and I could handle it fine on our own.”
“I know. Delilah told me.”
“You forgive me, then?”
“Depends on how this thing turns out. You have Schrader?”
“Yeah, and we’re taking him to his house near Seattle to reset the system.”
“The house is the
first place—”
“No, Livia’s contact, Little, says it’s not being monitored. Should be just a quick in and out.”
“Why does that sound familiar?”
Dox laughed again. “Because women say it’s your only means of lovemaking?”
Rain didn’t answer. Sometimes with Dox, silence was all you could do.
“Seriously,” Dox went on. “We’ll be careful.”
“What’s the endgame? You reset the system, then what?”
“Then Mr. Schrader has kindly offered to advise us on how to obscure the faces of the girls in the videos. That way only the men in them will get hurt. The girls didn’t do anything, and in fact quite a few of them are kindly inclined to Mr. Schrader for being so nice to them. He understands if any of the videos get released without being obscured, it could cause a lot of pain for those nice girls.”
Rain understood Schrader must have been nearby and that Dox was choosing his words deliberately.
“All right,” Rain said. “So the plan is to release sanitized versions of the videos?”
“Exactly.”
“That’s going to have a lot of very powerful people feeling irked.”
“Well, they’re already irked, and they have a logical motive to do us in on top of it. I’d like to remove the logical motive and just leave them feeling irked. Irked isn’t too bad. I’ve irked lots of people and none of them has killed me yet. Look at you and Larison. I irk you all the time and we’re all friends.”
“Still.”
“Partner, if you’ve got something better, I am all ears.”
Rain considered pointing out that it wasn’t his job to come up with solutions, given that Dox had created the problem. But that wouldn’t be fair. Or helpful.
“I wish I did,” he said.
“Look, it’s actually a pretty good plan. If those videos get released, the men starring in them are going to have a whole lot of problems more serious than getting back at whoever pressed the publication button, assuming they even know who that was. On top of which, they might lose access to their current resources. I mean, today, Pierce Devereaux is the damn director of National Intelligence. Tomorrow, he could be the disgraced former director, and negotiating a plea deal for reduced prison time for the rape of teenaged girls. I’d call tomorrow’s Pierce Devereaux a much less formidable enemy, wouldn’t you?”
