“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.”
There was another beat. Devereaux said, “I want to see these videos.”
“I don’t have a copy. Hamilton showed me something on some sort of encrypted website. So what are we going to do?”
Devereaux’s expression was impassive, but Hobbs could tell the man didn’t like having to go on Hobbs’s word. Or not knowing exactly what Hobbs had seen.