“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?”
Not for the first time when she was listening to Diaz, Livia was impressed. The woman had the interrogator’s knack for setting aside her own outrage, her own disgust, and addressing the subject in whatever terms he indicated would make sense to him. Speaking his own language.
“It’s not . . . ,” Schrader said. “I mean, I don’t want to. I wasn’t going to. You’re the one who arrested me.”
“No,” Diaz said. “The release of those videos has nothing to do with your arrest. You designed the system. You automated it. The videos aren’t a part of my case—I didn’t even know about their existence until you told me. Do you see? You’re going to ruin those innocent girls, girls who like you, who think you’re nice, who are grateful to you, who are protecting you—for nothing. I don’t understand. How can you be so mean?”
The interior of the van was silent. Livia knew Diaz and Carl would be perceptive enough to let the silence work on Schrader. She was only worried about Larison, who could occasionally lose his patience. Not that she could throw stones.
But this time, Larison stayed cool. After a moment, Schrader said, “Well, I don’t want to. But what am I supposed to do?”
“First,” Diaz said, “you help us reset the system.”
Schrader nodded. “Okay. I will.”
“And then,” Livia said, “help us blur out the faces of those girls.”