by Barry Eisler
“Please,” Schrader sobbed, his chest heaving. “Please. No more.”
Sloat stepped in closer, so Schrader could see his face. “We don’t want to do more, guy. This is no fun for us. Just tell us how to shut down those videos and we’re done. You get a nice warm bed—dry bed—and no more of this shit. Okay?”
“I told you,” Schrader said, crying. “I can’t shut it down! I can only reset it. Oh, God, I wish I could shut it down, I wish I could, I wish I could, please, no more, please don’t do it anymore, please . . .”
“Shhh,” Sloat said, patting him on the shoulder. “Shhh. Tell you what, we’ll take a little break.” He looked at Tyson. “Stay with him. I’ll be back in a few.”
He went out to the garage and called Rispel from an encrypted burner. She answered instantly. “Did you get it?”
“No,” he said. “Not only did we not get it, I don’t think he has it.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I told you before. He says he set up the system with this kind of scenario in mind. If he doesn’t reset it within a specified time frame, the system uploads whatever it’s programmed to upload.”
“Then get his passcode and reset it yourself. It’ll buy us time, at least.”
“He already gave us the passcode. Twelve-digit number, nothing complicated. But he claims he can only reset it from encrypted keypads installed in his various houses. And—”
“He has a house that can’t be more than a thirty-minute chopper ride from where you’re standing.”
“Look, first, I don’t want to go someplace where US marshals are likely to be looking for him, okay?”
A pause. She said, “What about the other houses?”
“And second, he says the keypad requires biometric credentials. Fingerprint, retina scan—”
“Then take him personally and press his finger and his eyeball wherever they need to go.”
“And a voice-stress analyzer. You get it? We could take him to one of his houses and press his finger and stick his eyeball and whatever else, and put a gun to his head and make him say the magic words, and the voice-stress analyzer is going to say, Fuck off. This guy anticipated duress. And prepared for it.”
There was a pause while she absorbed that. “I’m not buying it,” she said. “Why didn’t his lawyer warn anyone of this?”
Sloat considered that. “You said they let him go six years ago, right?”
“Yes.”
“My guess? They were expecting the same thing would happen this time. Or at least hoping.”
She didn’t respond, which he knew from experience meant she didn’t disagree.
“But then at some point,” he went on, “maybe he sees what happened to that guy Epstein. And decides he needs to be more careful. Some kind of dead-man setup, just in case. Maybe he goes even further, and architects it not just to protect against someone suiciding him, but to ensure everyone’s motivated to get him out of jail ASAP. And to ensure he can’t be under duress. Give the guy credit, it’s clever.”
“Maybe too clever. You don’t think he’s making it up?”
Sloat considered. “While we were boarding him? No.”
“You and I both know people will say anything to make it stop.”
“That’s my point. What he’s telling us isn’t making it stop. It’s making it continue. We’ve done him six times now. He’s crying, he shit himself . . . If he could give a dark web URL where we could log in and use the passcode without him, something like that—I think he would have told us by now.”
Again, she didn’t respond. He waited, then said, “So what do you want to do?”
“I need to think about it. Ultimately, we’re probably looking at taking him to one of his houses and verifying his story that way. But first, I want you to up the treatment.”
He’d sensed that might be coming. “I don’t really think that’s—”
“Don’t go wobbly on me, okay? We need to be sure. Do his fingers. No wait, make it his toes. In case the biometric story is true.”
Shit. He wondered if she’d specified the toes to prevent Sloat from later lying about having done it. Waterboarding left no physical evidence. Fingers and toes . . . not so much.
But orders were orders, and as his sergeant used to say back in the day, You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it.
“I’ll let you know what we get out of him,” he said. He clicked off and headed back in.
chapter
forty-one
MANUS
Manus was trying not to show it, but he was frightened and angry. Frightened for Evie and Dash. Angry at himself for downplaying the possibility that they could be in danger.
And he was confused, too. He’d lied to Evie about where he was. But now maybe the lie had put them in danger. Maybe he had put them in danger. If anything happened to them, it would be his fault.
You’ve been over this. They’re fine. There’s no reason anyone would want to hurt them.
He connected the phone’s Wi-Fi to the satellite hotspot. Immediately, a text from Evie popped up:
Hey. I’m worried about something and I’m afraid to go home. Can you text or FT me right away?
His heart started slamming. What happened? Why would she be afraid to go home?
He checked the text. It had been sent a half hour earlier. Enough time for anything to have happened. No, he thought. No, no, no . . .
He blew out a long breath. They’re all right, he told himself. The school is safe. And afraid to go home means she hasn’t. She’s being careful.
He glanced around and realized he had no good place to prop up the phone. He looked at Dox. “Can you hold it for me? I need my hands free.”
Dox nodded. “You bet.”
Manus FaceTimed Evie and handed the phone to Dox. She answered instantly. He waited while she adjusted the angle of her phone.
Hi, she signed. Did you get my text?
Just now. Are you and Dash okay?
Yes. We’re in my office at the school.
Dash stuck his head in the frame and waved. Hi, Marvin. When are you coming home?
Manus felt a wave of relief. Followed an instant later by an undertow of fear and regret. He should have been with them. He shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have lied.
Soon, he signed.
We have a meet on Saturday. Can you come?
I hope so. I like watching you run.
Me, too. I run faster when you’re there.
I know. Your parents named you Dash because you’re fast.
It was what Dash had told Manus when they’d first met, at an Orioles game, where Manus, who had been surveilling Evie at Director Anders’s request, caught the Manny Machado walk-off home run ball and then without thinking handed it to Dash.
Dash laughed. I don’t really say that anymore.
I still like it. Can I talk to your mom for a second?
Sure.
And then he was gone again, and it was just Evie. She looked away for a moment, and he realized she was watching Dash. Probably waiting for him to get back to his homework or an electronic game so that he wouldn’t see what she was signing.
After a moment, she started up again. She told him about a UPS truck. A camera by their driveway. She wanted to believe she was just being paranoid, but she didn’t. Still, what could it mean? She’d taken the pension, they’d kept quiet. Everything had been fine. They hadn’t done anything, had they?
He felt panicked and fought to control it. Don’t go home, he signed. I think something bad is happening. I’m trying to fix it.
She looked at him. Was it worry in her eyes? Or . . . betrayal?
Where are you? she signed.
I can’t explain now. But I will when I’m with you. I’m sorry.
When will you be here?
I’m not sure. Sometime tomorrow. As soon as I can. But don’t go home. Not until I’m there.
What is happening?
I’ll tell you everythin
g when I’m back. I . . . He felt self-conscious, even though Dox wasn’t watching him, even though in all likelihood the man couldn’t read sign. I miss you. And Dash. So much.
I’m scared.
It’s okay to be scared. Just be careful. I’m so sorry.
Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong.
That hurt. How do you know?
I know. But where should we go?
For all he knew, that UPS truck might have been in the parking lot that very moment. Can you just stay there? he signed. At the school?
Yes. Dash could stay in the dorm with one of his friends—
No. Stay with him.
She looked frightened at that. He added, I’m just being careful. Stay with him until I’m back. I might not be able to text you, but I’m coming.
Okay.
But don’t stay in your office. Someplace else.
He could tell he had frightened her again. He hated it. But the alternatives could be worse.
I don’t know, she signed. There are couches in the faculty lounge—
No. Not a common place. Not a place someone else would expect. And don’t take your phones with you.
She nodded. She would know not to take the phones, of course. She knew more about that kind of thing than he did. More than almost anyone. He was scared for them, that’s why he had said it. He realized his hand had dropped to the hilt of the Espada. He was going to find the people who were behind this.
He glanced at Dox again. He was still holding up the phone, and still looking away. Not for the first time, Manus was impressed by the man’s instincts.
He looked at Evie. I love you. Be careful. I’ll be home soon.
He took the phone, clicked off, and powered it down. “I have to go,” he said to Dox. “Right now. Drive me to the airport.”
“The airport?” Dox said. “Are your people all right?”
“No.” He told them about the UPS truck and the camera.
“Look, they’re all right for now,” Dox said. “Let’s take just a minute to think this through. Where are you flying to?”
“Washington.”
“Okay, fine. But even if you can get a red-eye tonight, you won’t land until tomorrow morning. By the time you get to them, it’ll be, what, midmorning at best?”
Manus was getting irritated at how much the man talked. “The sooner I leave, the better my chances. Do you want to drive me, or should I call a cab?”
“What I mean,” Dox said, “is that according to K., John and Delilah are landing in DC late tonight. They’re going to pick up K.’s young officer, the one someone made the attempt on earlier. They could keep watch on your people, too, at least until you’re back.”
Manus hated that Evie and Dash were so exposed, but he didn’t like Dox’s suggestion. “I don’t even know who they are.”
“What you need to know is this,” Dox said. “I’ve been running and gunning with John for a long time. He knows all there is about how to make someone dead. Which makes him the person you want most when it comes to keeping someone alive.”
chapter
forty-two
DELILAH
Delilah was still trying to doze off when she felt a jolt and realized the plane had touched down. Her ears had been popping, but she hadn’t expected to arrive so soon. She checked her watch—not quite four o’clock in the morning local time.
She pressed the button to raise the seat. John stirred across from her, still reclined. Ordinarily he was a light sleeper—a survival reflex, she knew. But when he felt safe, as apparently he did inside an airborne private jet, it was a different story.
The plane began to decelerate. John opened his eyes, stretched, and raised his seat.
“Well,” she said. “At least you got some sleep.”
He pinched his nostrils, closed his eyes, and blew out to pop his ears. “I’m guessing that makes one of us?”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. If I’d stayed behind, I wouldn’t have slept any better. And I would have been pissed on top of it.”
“Does that mean you’re not?”
She sighed. “I was thinking . . . I wasn’t being fair. It used to be you who tried to pressure me to get out of the life. And I wouldn’t, because I wasn’t ready.”
“You had your reasons. I shouldn’t have pressured you.”
She laughed. “Yes, that’s true. But I could be a little more understanding myself. I care about Dox, too. You know that. Livia . . . I’m mixed on.”
“Only because you’re protective of Dox. That’s no vice.”
He was right about that. “He’s a good friend.”
“The best. But don’t tell him I said that. When the opportunity presents itself, I still need to be able to give him shit.”
“What you said before . . . about how, if I needed help, I wouldn’t be able to stop him.”
John looked at her. “It’s true.”
She nodded. “I know it’s true. No one could. I don’t want to lose sight of that. Or anything else that really matters.”
While the plane continued to taxi, John used the bathroom. Delilah followed suit. When she came back, he was closing the laptop. He would have connected, she knew, through the plane’s satellite hotspot.
“All good?” she said.
“Yeah. Turns out we have two more people to pick up, not just this girl Maya.”
For a second, she thought she’d heard wrong. “You’re kidding,” she said. But it was a reflex. John never kidded about that kind of thing.
He told her about the other two—Marvin Manus’s woman and her boy. The woman had seen something worrisome and was afraid to go home. Manus was flying in to be with them, but he wouldn’t land for a few more hours.
“Is this really necessary?” she said. “This Manus . . . we don’t even know him.”
“Dox told him we’d do it.”
“Shouldn’t he have checked with us first?”
“I’m sure he had a good reason. And it’s only for a few hours.” He paused, then added, “I’m sorry.”
She suddenly had a bad feeling about all of this. It had been a nice moment on the plane after they landed. But now she could see in his eyes that the relaxed demeanor of Paris and Kamakura was gone. In its place was another facet of his personality, the facet she had first encountered a long time ago in Macau. She wanted that part of him to be confined to the past, and it was upsetting to see it abruptly recrudesce. It reminded her too much of how cold he had become, how much he had reverted, when that megalomaniac Hilger had rendered Dox. But she realized she was being stupid. They were operational now, whether she liked it or not. Did she want him to be sloppy?
She told herself there was nothing to worry about. This wasn’t like the thing with Hilger. Dox wasn’t being held. There was no gun to his head, at least not literally. John wasn’t going to spiral. They would pick up these three passengers, babysit them for a little while, and go back to Paris as though none of it had ever happened.
She hoped.
They got off the plane directly onto the tarmac less than fifty meters from the terminal. They were at Leesburg Executive Airport, about forty miles northwest of DC. Dulles would have been the more obvious choice, which was of course part of the reason Kanezaki had used this smaller regional outpost instead.
Just ten minutes after landing, they were driving out of the airport in the car Kanezaki had left for them—a Honda SUV she assumed he had selected because of its popularity in the region, and therefore its unobtrusiveness. Delilah was behind the wheel. She preferred to drive, and was glad John didn’t have the typical male need to be in control of the car. Besides, he was a better shot than she was, so it made sense that he would be their first line of defense with one of the two Glocks Kanezaki had left for them under the two front seats, each with a bellyband holster.
It was only a few miles to the meeting point—a Hampton Inn motel in Leesburg. But they took a cir
cuitous route involving surface roads and several quiet neighborhoods. On this, she deferred to John’s instructions. She had never known someone with better countersurveillance instincts. Traffic was light, and it was easy to confirm they weren’t being followed.
They pulled into the motel parking lot and drove to the periphery, where there were fewer cars. She saw the vehicle they were looking for—a silver minivan. It was in one of the center spaces, no car left or right, room to drive forward or back as circumstances required. A good tactical spot. But that wasn’t unexpected.
“Pull up next to it,” John said. He was holding the Glock. “Slowly. So I’m next to the driver-side window. And be ready to gun it.”
She rolled forward as he’d asked, giving it almost no gas, her foot poised to mash the pedal if there were any problems.
As they got closer, she could see the driver. An attractive Asian woman. Kanezaki’s sister, John had said. Yuki. And a pretty brunette in the passenger seat. Maya, presumably. Was she holding a stuffed animal? No, it was an actual dog, some kind of terrier. Good God, they weren’t here just to babysit. They were going to be dogsitting, too.
They stopped. Yuki nodded and rolled down her window. John did the same.
“Hey,” John said. “It’s good to see you.” There was a surprising note of warmth in his voice.
Yuki smiled. “Isn’t one of us supposed to say The moon is blue or something like that?”
John laughed. “I think that’s only for people who don’t know each other.”
Delilah was surprised—John hadn’t mentioned that he knew Kanezaki’s sister. And the laugh was a little unlike him, too. Under any circumstances, and especially now, when he’d been so focused.
“You look good,” Yuki said. “The greeting card business must agree with you.”
Delilah recognized the reference to the old Get Smart series. Was this woman flirting with John?
“I’m retired, actually.”
This time, it was Yuki who laughed. “That explains it. I was wondering what you were doing here in the Hampton Inn parking lot at ass-dark thirty picking up one of Tom’s, uh, State Department colleagues.”