The Chaos Kind (John Rain #11)(115)

“I don’t know,” Rain said. “Security, I guess. Grimble told us his passcode is long and complicated, and he keeps it separate from the transcoder for the videos, which is on the laptop.”

Rispel considered. “Where’s Dox?”

“He’s not here.”

Rispel wasn’t buying it. And though she couldn’t prove otherwise, she’d learned at the black sites that one of the keys to interrogation was pretending to know more than you really did.

“Bullshit,” she said. “We picked him up on Grimble’s camera network.”

“I don’t know who you picked up,” Rain said, “but it wasn’t Dox. I guess so much for good faith and all that.”

He said it confidently and readily, and she didn’t detect any deception. Still, he was obviously a hard man to read. “Then where is he?” she said.

“You’ll have to ask Kanezaki. He’s the one who put together this crew. Look, my contract has a force majeure clause. I get paid either way. So take the laptop. Get the log-in credentials. It doesn’t matter to me.”

That wasn’t so difficult to believe, based on his evident lack of interest in the two hostages, and in what Rispel had heard about his past.

She realized he was still wearing his commo gear. She should have thought to have one of her men remove it so the rest of Rain’s people couldn’t hear what they had just discussed. Well, no harm done. And he had to tell them to come out regardless.

“We’ll see,” she said. “Have your people come out. One by one, hands up, just like you did. Tell them anyone still inside at the end of the exercise gets a bullet.”

“You’re wearing the commo gear you took off the woman,” Rain said. “They can hear you.”

“I want them to hear it from you.”

“It’s not up to me.”

“Tell them anyway. And while you’re at it, tell them I’ll have you shot, too. Hopefully they won’t be as callous about you as you seem to be about them.”

“All right,” Rain said. “You heard her. I’d suggest you all come out.”

The door opened. A pretty Latina was first. Rispel recognized her from file photos. Diaz. Tony searched her, then moved her over near Manus. Next was a large and dangerous-looking man Rispel thought fit the description of Dox’s partner from Freeway Park. Then a woman and a teenaged boy, who broke the rules by coming out together. But Rispel didn’t mind—the woman’s obvious protectiveness might prove useful. Because Rispel knew about Manus’s adopted family, and recognized Evelyn Gallagher from NSA file photos. The boy was her son.

As soon as Tony was done patting them down, Gallagher started signing to the boy.

“Stop that,” Rispel said.

Gallagher looked at her, and Rispel had to give her credit, for a moment the woman looked more dangerous than any of them. “He’s deaf,” Gallagher said. “And he’s scared. I’m just explaining what’s happening.”

Rispel glanced at the boy. He glared back, looking as formidable as his mother.

“He doesn’t seem scared,” Rispel said.

“I’m not scared of you,” the boy said, his voice slightly off and a bit too loud.

Rispel had to laugh at his pluck. “You should be.”

“You make me sick,” Gallagher said.

“How I make you feel is irrelevant to me,” Rispel said. “Manus is watching you. I don’t want any of you communicating in a way I can’t follow. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Next out was Maya. And then a chubby man in a ponytail, wearing some sort of red, pleated robe and an enormous pair of eyeglasses. He was petting or stroking the side of his face as though smoothing out an invisible beard. He was obviously no operator, but regardless, Rispel recognized him from the file photos. Grimble.

Kanezaki was next, looking at Rispel with surprising dispassion as he came through the door. Rispel had been expecting something more seething or self-righteous.

“Hello, Tom,” she said.

“Hello, Lisa.”

She gave him a patronizing smile. “You can’t say I didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“That sometimes it’s safer to have nothing even to recall.”

“I guess I should have listened.”

“It’s all right. I don’t mind a certain degree of insubordination. It shows spirit. It’ll be a little awkward when we’re back in the office, but ultimately we’ll be fine.”

Another thing she had learned at the black sites: you had to give the subject something to hope for. People who had nothing to hope for could be difficult to manage. Say what you will about the Nazis, but Arbeit Macht Frei demonstrated a sound grasp of human psychology.

“Am I right in thinking you’re the last one?” she said.

“Yes.”

“Where’s Dox?”

“I don’t know. I told you, he isn’t always reliable about accepting jobs.”

“Who helped you take down the team at the house on Lake Tapps?”

“You’re looking at them.”

“And at Schrader’s house?”

“The same. How did you get him out of prison?”