The Chaos Kind (John Rain #11)(82)

“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 tomorrow?”

“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?”