The Chaos Kind (John Rain #11)(84)

“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?”

“And I suppose that applies to the others, as well.”

“That’s our thinking. So unless you have any other concerns, we’re going to proceed as planned. By the way, how’s old Manus?”

Rain glanced over. Manus was signing with Dash. Evie was watching Rain.

“He seems good. They’re all good.”

“Tom told me what happened. I really appreciate you and Delilah helping out. And I’m not trying to gild the lily here, but I think this could work out well. That Manus is a damn force of nature. He saved my ass earlier, and I for one would be proud to welcome him into our little band of brothers.”

“There is no band. I’m retired. Or anyway, trying to be.”

“All right, well, if you ever decide to get off the shuffleboard court, or shit happens, or whatever. I’m just saying, Manus is solid. Give him my best, will you?”

Rain nodded at Evie. “I’ll give him your best.”

“Thank you. And if you talk to Tom, see if he can get ahold of another of those private jets he flew you and Delilah out here on. When we’re done with Schrader, Larison and I are going to need to vamoose, and I think we’re a little hot right now for commercial travel.”

“Anything else? You want me to order you a pizza? You need a back rub?”

Dox laughed. “I told you you’ve gotten funnier. I’ll let Larison know. I think it’s his influence as much as mine.”

“You be careful, all right?”

“You bet. And you know I love you, too.”

Dox clicked off, saving Rain the trouble of trying and failing to come up with a snappy reply.

Dox had a way of keeping things light, but Rain hadn’t been joking about the shortcomings of the plan. Or, given the level of the players threatened by those videos, the stakes. He understood the logic. But at the same time, the whole thing felt like an attempt to snuff out an oil-well fire by dumping high explosives on it. If it worked, great. If it didn’t, you just bought yourself an even bigger fire.





chapter

sixty





LIVIA


Thirty minutes out from the compound, Livia said to Schrader, “All right, Andrew, time for your cocktail.” She wanted to make sure it had fully taken effect by the time they arrived.

Schrader looked doubtful. “What’s in it?”

“I’d like to say Bombay Sapphire,” Carl said, handing him the plastic bottle. “And a dash of vermouth. But as it happens, it’s mostly just beta blockers. You know what that is?”

Schrader nodded. “I know people who use them. For anxiety. And high blood pressure.”

“Exactly,” Carl said. “Now maybe you’ve gotten to know us well enough to understand we’re not like those people who were holding you before. On the other hand, you’ve had a rough time of it, and we’re not old friends who you’re maximally comfortable with, either. So we need to make sure your voice is stress-free when you go to reset your system. You get it?”