Rain wondered whether to say anything, then decided Dox would be hearing about it soon enough regardless. “We saw a news report. Unnamed senior intelligence officials talking about deep-fake Russian disinformation campaigns. Obviously laying the groundwork for dismissing any videos that get released as fake news, a Kremlin kompromat plot . . . That kind of thing.”
Dox laughed harshly. “Almost can’t blame them. It works every time.”
Rain tried to think of something comforting to say, and couldn’t.
“You talk to Tom?” Dox said. “Maybe he’s got something new.”
“I left him a message.”
“Well, I doubt even old Kanezaki could pull a rabbit out of this hat. I’d like to think I’m missing something, but right now, I figure the best we can hope for is a stalemate. And eventually, when that system is done automatically spitting out every last video, hopefully no one will think there’s any benefit to be derived from killing any of us. Toothpaste being out of the tube and all that.”
“Do we even know what that time frame is?”
“Schrader said every other day, with yesterday being the first release and tomorrow at three o’clock West Coast time being the second. But we don’t know how many overall. Might have to hunker down for a while.”
Rain had never heard the big sniper sound so down. “Dox. It’s not your fault.”
Dox gave another harsh laugh. “Is this like that scene in Good Will Hunting? ’Cause we can’t hug it out over the phone.”
“You know I don’t get your movie references.”
“Never mind. I appreciate the thought.”
“It’s not just a thought. It’s true. If you want to blame someone, blame Kanezaki. But come on, nobody could have foreseen this. It’s just one of those things that went sideways.”
“You foresaw it. You’re the one with the good sense to retire. Or at least to try, despite all my interference.”
“Listen, you know the only reason I keep you around is because you’re funny, right? If you’re going to get maudlin on me, it’s over.”
Dox laughed again, a little less harshly this time. “Thanks, partner. All right, let me get with the team here and figure out our next move. And tell me if you hear from Tom.”
Dox clicked off and Rain briefed the rest of them. The atmosphere in the room was bleak.
When he was done, Maya said, “It’s weird. I was wondering how Schrader was going to access the videos. Now we won’t know.”
Rain looked at her. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “I’d just be surprised if the underlying material were localized or easily accessible. That would risk it being compromised. Which, okay, fine, maybe Schrader could be that thoughtless or sloppy. But he wasn’t. Someone put a lot of thought into this—integral biometric and encryption safeguards, the dead-man switch, the escalating series of warnings . . . Evie, what do you think?”
Rain had heard the two women talking earlier. Apparently when she had been with NSA, Evie had been involved in the creation of what was then called God’s Eye, now known as Guardian Angel. And the two of them had used the program together to track down where Rispel was having Schrader held.
“Agreed,” Evie said. “We’re talking about a complex, robust, redundant system.”
Rain wasn’t sure where they were going. “Regardless of where the underlying material is kept, why wouldn’t Schrader have access? He’s the one who created the videos, right?”
“Sure,” Maya said, “but that’s like . . . Look, you know how to shoot cellphone video, right?”