The Chaos Kind (John Rain #11)(7)

The waiter came by and refreshed their coffees. When he was gone, Devereaux said, “What’s changed, then?”

Hobbs appreciated that Devereaux was being polite. The more direct version of the question would have been Why are you telling me this? Or even What do you want from me?

Hobbs took a quick glance around, but it was reflex—there was no one within earshot. And of course, the entirety of the White House was swept constantly for bugs. This was as safe a place as any to talk.

“After the non-prosecution agreement, Schrader made himself scarce in South Carolina. He bought new property—on Bainbridge Island, in Washington State. Built a twenty-eight-million-dollar compound, with mooring for his yacht and a helipad. And went back to doing what he does. He owns an Airbus ACH130 helicopter that delivers six girls at a time, a ten-minute flight from Seattle.”

Devereaux said nothing, and after a moment, Hobbs continued. “Three days ago, the FBI arrested Schrader in the Western District of Washington State. Turns out an assistant US Attorney there has been spearheading an investigation for the past year. And lord almighty, does she have the goods. Schrader’s got no way out.”

“Except one.”

“Ah, but here’s the problem. This AUSA, Alondra Diaz. She’s a zealot. I explained to the US Attorney in the district—good guy named Meekler—that Schrader can’t be prosecuted. I didn’t give details, but Meekler got the gist, and recognized there would be rewards for cooperation. He told me he’d make sure Diaz understood she had caught the wrong fish and that she’d throw him back in the water.”

“And?”

“Meekler talked to her. Standard Are you sure we have our ducks in a row talk. Nudge-nudge, wink-wink. Diaz was adamant. And she’d made sure to have lots of reporters present when the FBI made the arrest. Meekler’s afraid if he pushes too hard, someone’s going to start writing stories about it.”

“What about your non-prosecution agreement?”

“Only binding in the district in South Carolina.”

“Schrader agreed to that? That he could still be prosecuted anywhere else in the United States?”

“He didn’t like it. But if we had tried to run it through main Justice, the whole thing could have been shot down. The perfect as the enemy of the good. Schrader settled for staying out of jail in South Carolina.”

“And you settled for letting him go hunting anywhere else in the country. Like the Vatican and those priests.”

“What would you have done, Pierce? Prosecute him, and let those videos loose? Do you know how damaging that would have been?”

“Are you in those videos?”

Hobbs laughed. He’d been expecting the question, and he’d rehearsed his response. “No.”

He waited, but Devereaux didn’t ask the question Hobbs sensed he was dying to: Am I?

“I told you,” Hobbs went on, “this isn’t about parties. It isn’t about the players, it’s about . . .” He paused and looked around the prosperous, wood-paneled enclave, then back to Devereaux. “It’s about the whole game.”

“Still. If Diaz prosecutes, your role in South Carolina is going to be headline news.”

Translation: Even if you’re not in those videos, it’s your ass, too.

“Yes. If Diaz prosecutes, I expect I’ll be one of the casualties. Though I also expect my decision not to prosecute Schrader will be slightly less fascinating to the public than videos of the implicated men fucking teenaged girls in various of Schrader’s mansions.”

Devereaux blanched, then got ahold of himself. He said, “I would think . . . after what happened to Epstein, Schrader must be worried someone could try to get to him.”

“Oh, he certainly is. Or at least was. His lawyer says he has the videos protected with some sort of dead-man switch. If something happens to Schrader, the material gets uploaded. News outlets, YouTube, social media . . . everywhere.”

“You believe that?”

“Enough so that if I were—hypothetically—thinking about how much better off the world would be without Schrader, I’d be afraid to try to make it happen.”

“Which is why you’re focused on Diaz.”

Hobbs nodded, but said nothing more. It wasn’t just intel types who understood the power of silence.

Finally, Devereaux said, “What are you asking of me, Uriah?”

“Diaz won’t respond to reason. Maybe she’ll respond to pressure. Justice hasn’t been able to dig up anything. But no one has the kind of resources you do. Maybe you can find something. Some videos Diaz is in. Who knows?”

“General Motors tried something like that with Ralph Nader, back in the day. They found nothing and the whole thing backfired.”

“General Motors was using private investigators. And that was the sixties. You’re the director of National Intelligence. In the twenty-first century. I’m betting you can do better.”

Devereaux rubbed his chin. “Threats are never useless. They’re either effective or they make things worse. What if we find something and push, and Diaz pushes back?”

Hobbs was relieved to hear Devereaux talking about we. The man was in. Of course he was. Now it was just a question of how far.

Hobbs waited a beat, then said, “I’m open to suggestions.”