by Barry Eisler
After they left, Dunlop still felt a little bothered—more than he had at the outset. He didn’t know why. He’d checked every box. Called the chief and everything.
A half hour had passed before he realized what was bugging him. Those agents—they were a couple of paper pushers, like him. Just there to pick up a prisoner, nothing more than that. Robinson had barely even remembered Schrader’s name.
So how had he known Schrader’s lawyer was a woman?
chapter
twenty-five
LIVIA
Livia was in the parking garage, about to jump into her Jeep, when the phone buzzed. Alondra. She picked up and said, “I was about to call you. The morning briefing—”
“He’s out!” Diaz said. “I just got a call from the desk officer at the FDC. He said there was a court order, but I called the court—”
Livia tried to control her shock. “What do you mean, out? Schrader? How?”
“That’s what I’m saying. They released him. The desk officer, Dunlop, he says there was a court order and they confirmed it with the court, but I just called the court myself and it’s bullshit, there’s no court order, the clerk spoke personally with Judge Ricardo and there’s no fucking court order! What is going on?”
“I don’t understand. He just walked out of the jail? Who did they release him to?”
“Two FBI special agents—Robinson and McBride.”
“Did you—”
“Of course. I called the local field office. There are two agents with those names, but I spoke to one of them, and he told me he didn’t know what I was talking about, he had no orders, he’d been nowhere near the FDC, he had nothing to do with Schrader. What the fuck is this?”
Livia tried to focus. “Does anybody know where Schrader is?”
“No one I’ve spoken to. I don’t know how someone could pull this off. Dunlop said the court order was totally legit—stamped and everything. Even Ricardo’s signature is a match!”
Think, Livia. Think. “Where are you now?”
“On my way to the courthouse to find out what the hell is going on. And listen. Not a half hour before this went down, I was at the FDC, interviewing Schrader.”
“What? Why?”
“That thing at the park. I just . . . I was spooked. I needed to confront him. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is, he told me he has video. Of all these powerful men having sex with kids. Raping them, though of course he didn’t put it that way. He said everyone knows if anything happens to him, the videos will be released.”
As Livia tried to process that, she heard an incoming call beep. She checked the screen—Caller Blocked.
“I have to take this,” she said.
“Wait, we need to figure out—”
“Listen to me, Alondra. Don’t go home, do you understand? Don’t go back to work. Don’t go anywhere you might be expected.”
“Livia, what the hell—”
“Just do as I say! And don’t go to the courthouse. Hold on, I have to take this call.”
“Wait, what—”
“I’ll be right back.” She switched over to the incoming call. “Yes.”
“Hey,” Carl said. “Can you talk?”
“It’s better if we meet. Are you around here? But don’t say where.”
“Yeah, way ahead of you. You know that beverage place I once told you I like? And you told me it was one of your favorites?”
He was talking about All City Coffee in Georgetown. But she got her coffee there routinely and they all knew her. “Yes.”
“Would that work?”
She thought for a second. “Make it the park northwest of there. When can you be there?”
“Inside a half hour.”
“Okay. If I’m late, wait for me. I have to go.”
She switched back to Diaz. “Alondra?”
“What’s going on?”
“Not on the phone. Now pay attention. I’ve tried to get you to be more careful and you haven’t listened. That’s my fault, not yours, I should have pushed harder. But I am pushing now. You got lucky at the park this morning and we can’t rely on that kind of luck again. Ditch your phone right now. I don’t care what you do with it, but you can’t keep it on your person. Go straight to a public place, stay there, borrow someone’s phone, and call me in an hour. You can’t have a phone right now, it’s too easy to track.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. Just call me in an hour. From a random person’s phone, do you understand?”
“Okay.”
“Don’t go confronting your fears again. Brave is great. Brave and dead is stupid. We are up against heavy opposition and we need to be smart.”
“Who? Up against who?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. Now do as I say—get rid of your phone right now, and call me in an hour.”
chapter
twenty-six
LIVIA
Livia parked the Jeep at the north end of Georgetown Playfield park. She saw Carl immediately—he was straddling the bench at a picnic table under an awning, casually scanning the area. Her heart started beating hard and she felt a surge of irritation—at him, and even more at herself for the effect he had on her.
Just before she cut the wipers, she saw him spot the Jeep. She flipped up her hood, got out, and started toward him. The park was empty, and everything was muted by the soft patter of the rain. He stood and watched her, grinning like an idiot.
She came in under the awning and pushed back her hood. She had no idea what she was going to say. “What are you doing here?” is what came out.
“Labee,” he said, shaking his head. “God, I missed you. I’m sorry, I promised myself I wasn’t going to say anything mushy, and now I’ve gone and blown it.”
I missed you, too, she thought. But it didn’t come out.
“Damn it,” he said. “This is unbearable. I’m just going to hug you for a minute, all right? You know you don’t have to hug me back.”
“Carl,” she said, but he already had his arms around her and had pulled her in close. She felt that surge of irritation again, and something hot like anger, and she was aware of his warmth, and the feel of his body, and his smell. One of the jets from nearby Boeing Field went screeching overhead, obliterating the sound of the rain. And then he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back. Hard. And her anger boiled over.
She shoved him away. “Stop. We have to stop. What is going on?”
He shook his head, whether to indicate he didn’t have an answer or to clear it, she wasn’t sure. The roar of the jet receded, and the soft drumbeat of rain faded back in. He did another quick scan of the area. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I . . . damn. You want to sit?”
She glanced back at the empty parking lot. “How did you get here?”
“Took a cab.”
“From Freeway Park?”
“No, from farther out. I’m with Larison, and now this new guy Manus, too, and after the park we decided to get clear of the city. They dropped me off at SeaTac. I didn’t want to ask them to come all the way back. Just in case.”
“A taxi driver could remember you.”
“Ah, you know me. Not that it’s easy, but I can be unmemorable when I set my mind to it.”
“Did you not know you don’t sound like you’re from around here? Diaz certainly noticed.”
“Good news,” he said, replacing the Texan with something as ridiculous as it was unspecified. “I made sure to address the driver in the humiliating accent I’m using with you right now. If you find it sexy, though, I’ll keep doing it.”
He stood there, grinning at her. She almost said, What am I going to do with you? but realized he would probably offer at least several answers, none of which she was ready to deal with.
They straddled the benches on opposite sides of the picnic table. The table was good—they could each see behind the other. With one leg in and one leg out, they could move quickly if nec
essary. And she needed some distance, the presence of something solid between them.
He briefed her on what had happened in the park, and everything that led up to it. While he spoke, she alternated between rage and relief, and struggled not to interrupt. But by the time he was done, she felt clearheaded and relatively in control again.
“Why did Kanezaki go to you?” she said. “I owe him. He knows that. You even told me once he would come to collect. Why not me?”
He blew out a long breath. “Well, maybe he just, uh . . .”
She knew he was a good liar, at least operationally. That he could offer nothing in response to her question suggested either that he didn’t want to lie, or that she was throwing him off his game as much as he threw her off hers.
“Don’t bullshit me, Carl. I could at least have warned Alondra.”
“Would she have listened?”
Livia thought of the way Diaz had blown off her attempts to get her to be more tactical. But she wasn’t going to concede the point. “We’ll never know now, will we?”
“Well, I warned her.”
“Yeah, after the fact.”
He smiled. “Better late than never?”
When she didn’t respond, he said, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make light. Look, Kanezaki said he was going to involve you. And I told him not to, that I would take care of it myself.”
“Why?”
He threw up his arms. “What am I supposed to do, let you get mixed up in this shit?”
“It’s not your call. And besides, I am mixed up in it.”
“Well, I tried. To spare you. You want me to apologize for that?”
“I don’t need you to protect me.”
“I never said you did.”
“Then stop acting like it.”
“Fine. I called you, didn’t I? So now you’re involved. I hope you’re happy.”
“Stop sulking. We need to figure this out.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“I’ve never seen you look sulkier than when you said that.”
For a second, he stared at her, looking exasperated enough to pop. Then he broke out laughing. “I guess you’ve gotten to know me pretty well.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“See what I mean?”
“Listen to me. It’s worse than you think.” She told him about Diaz’s call, about Schrader being released.
“I’ll be damned,” he said when she was done. “They’re going to kill that boy for sure. He’s probably dead already.”
“I don’t know. What about the videos?”
“Right, I expect he’s going to endure some unpleasant questioning en route to coughing up whatever he knows. The good news, maybe, is this gets Diaz off the hook. Plus being tortured to death over blackmail materials couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”
“We need to talk to Alondra. Schrader was saying if anything happens to him, those videos will be released.”
“You mean like a dead-man switch? Larison was speculating about that.”
“I don’t know. And the people who took him—maybe they don’t know, either. Or they don’t know about the videos at all. Maybe you’re right. Maybe they’ve already killed him. We need to find out more.”
“Well, if there is a dead-man switch, and they killed him, I expect we’ll find out soon enough.”
“Who could have taken him? They had to forge a court order, fake FBI credentials, spoof a phone line out of the prison . . . This was a sophisticated operation.”
“My first guess would be Rispel. She’s the one trying to kill Diaz, or at least she’s the cat’s-paw. So when things went sideways for her in Freeway Park, she busted Schrader out of jail as a Plan B. But . . . could be another player entirely. Different agenda, different plan. Hard to say.”
“Can Kanezaki help?”
“I already talked to him. He’s trying to find out what he can. While dancing around Rispel’s suspicions.”
“What about Rain?”
“Larison’s calling him. John’s not going to have any intel, though.”
“I don’t want him for his intel. We don’t know what we’re up against.”
“Yeah, I know. I just feel bad. John’s trying to retire, or at least he thinks he is. I didn’t want to bug him. That’s why I called Larison. Larison loves this kind of shit. If trouble didn’t come looking for him, he’d go find it on his own. And I didn’t want . . . I’m sorry, Labee, I know you don’t need protecting, I really do. It’s just, if I can save you from something, I just . . .”
His voice trailed off and he looked away, his expression so forlorn it almost made her feel guilty.
“Carl. You have to stop making this about me. About us. It’s bigger than that. Okay?”
He looked at her and nodded slowly. “There’s not a lot for me that’s bigger than us. But . . . point taken.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. That’s the problem.”
She wished she could tell him how much she . . . cared about him. She wished he knew how much she wanted to say it. But all she did was look at him, hoping he would somehow understand.
“You know,” he said after a moment. “It occurs to me, maybe psychologically I’ve just been trying to get your attention. And if we could see each other more regularly, like normal people, then I wouldn’t be so motivated to get up in all kinds of political skullduggery as my only hope of ever being with you.”
She folded her arms and stared at him.
“I’m joking, of course,” he said. “And by joking, I mean eighty percent serious.”
Her phone buzzed. Someone named Jill Ehrman. Diaz. “Hello.”
“It’s me. I borrowed a phone.”
“Are you someplace safe?”
“Storyville Coffee.”
“The one at First and Madison?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be by in ten minutes. Look for the Jeep. Make sure you confirm it’s me driving. I’ll have a passenger, too, but don’t worry about that. When I pull up, come out and get right in.”
“Livia—”
“I don’t care if it sounds paranoid. Just do as I say.”
“It . . . doesn’t sound paranoid. Not anymore.”
chapter
twenty-seven
RISPEL
There was a knock, followed by Rispel’s admin opening the door. “Director Rispel, Director—”
Devereaux barged past her. “Thank you,” he said. “And now please leave us.”
The admin looked at Rispel. Rispel nodded, and the admin left, closing the door behind her.
“Pierce,” Rispel said. “I was just going—”
He slammed his palms onto her desk and leaned all the way over it, putting his face just inches from hers. “What the fuck is going on, Lisa?”
Flecks of spittle hit her and she might have flinched—might have reverted to their past dynamic. But she’d imagined this eventuality and had mentally rehearsed it. So without even attempting to conceal her disgust, she wiped her cheeks, looked into his eyes, and said firmly, “Sit down, Pierce.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I said—”
“Put your ass in one of those two guest chairs right now, or I will call security and have you escorted from my building.”
He looked at her, his mouth agape but for once nothing coming out of it.
“Sit,” she said again. She realized she had deliberately addressed him in the same way she did her cocker spaniel, and that she had enjoyed doing so. She reminded herself to keep her ego in check.
After a moment, he straightened and took a step back. To save face, he said, “You better have a damn good explanation.” He sat.
She knew perfectly well what had brought him, but there was no upside, only risk, to going first. “Explanation for what?”
He reddened, and for a second, she thought he might go into another tirade. But he didn’t. He must have known she was serious about having him escorted
out. And he must have been afraid of his current position. She had him. He might try to bluff, but she had him. She felt herself wanting to relish the knowledge, and suppressed the feeling.
“It’s a shitshow in Seattle,” he said. “The press is crawling all over the US Attorney, Meekler. The district judge is receiving death threats. There are QAnon protesters in front of the damn courthouse, claiming some sort of deep state conspiracy to release a rich pedophile! So please. Just tell me. Where the hell is Schrader?”
It was what she had been expecting. “That’s why I was going to call you. I thought this was you. Some kind of Plan B.”
He looked half-desperate, half-incredulous. “You’re saying you had nothing to do with it?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Are you saying the same?”
He went pale, and his lips moved as if to form words, but nothing came out. She wondered if he was going to be sick.
“Lisa,” he said. “Look, I’m not upset. Maybe it’s good. I just need to know what’s going on, okay?”
“You seem upset.” Don’t toy with him. That’s not the point.
“No. No. Just . . . agitated. But . . . come on. Who else could have done this?”
“Are you joking? Are you seriously asking me who could have been motivated to acquire a set of doomsday blackmail videos involving prominent Americans? And who could have had the means to do it?”
He shook his head as though to clear it. “You’re saying . . . FSB?”
“Of course. And if not Russia, China would be my next guess.”
He put his hands to his temples. “This can’t be happening. It can’t.”
“Pierce. Listen to me. We need to prepare for the very real possibility that whoever is on those tapes is now subject to blackmail by the FSB or MSS. Those people need to be warned. We need contingency plans.”
He laughed slightly hysterically. “Contingency plans? There are no contingency plans for something like this. Do you know who we’re talking about?”
“That’s what I’m asking you.”
“For starters? Try the president of the United States.”
Rispel stared at him. She didn’t have to pretend to be shocked. The feeling was real.