“Yes, you do,” Diaz said. “You know about the videos. We know you met with the AG.”
Hamilton looked at her, plainly surprised. “How—” she said, then stopped herself.
“Your client told me,” Diaz said. “Now you need to stop thinking about confidentiality and attorney-client privilege and all that bullshit. Right now. And start thinking like someone who wants to stay alive. Do you understand?”
“Are you threatening me?” Hamilton said.
Diaz threw up her hands. “Are you really this stupid? I’m not your adversary. We’re past that. We need to help each other.”
After a moment, Hamilton said, “All right. I met with Hobbs. Andrew . . . He told me Hobbs would be receptive.”
“Why?” Livia said. She hadn’t minded Diaz softening Hamilton up, but she wanted to manage the Q&A herself.
“Presumably . . . ,” Hamilton started to say, then stopped. She glanced around at each of them. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you people are. I mean, this is completely insane. What are we, in some kind of Motel 6 safe house? Look, even if we’re not adversaries, okay, but why should I tell you anything?”
“It’s up to you,” Larison said from his spot by the window. “In fact, you can leave right now. But the next time you’re enjoying a dandelion salad or whatever in your favorite restaurant, and a pair of gunmen ghost up from behind to punch your ticket, we won’t be there to bail you out. You like your odds without us? Take them. Personally, I don’t give a shit.”
Livia glanced at Larison. It wasn’t the first time the men in this group hadn’t followed her lead in eliciting information.
Larison shrugged. “Just my two cents.”
Manus glanced back at Larison, then at Livia. She realized he hadn’t been able to follow the exchange, and summarized for him. Then she looked at Hamilton. “Why would Schrader believe Hobbs would be receptive to a message about those videos?”
There was a pause. Hamilton said, “Presumably because Hobbs brokered the South Carolina non-prosecution agreement six years ago.”
Livia glanced at Diaz. “Did you know about this?”
“No,” Diaz said, staring at Hamilton. “There’s an NPA from the district in South Carolina? From when Hobbs was US Attorney there?”
Hamilton nodded. “They didn’t clear it with main Justice.”
“Why not?” Livia said.
“Because,” Diaz said, still staring at Hamilton, “main Justice might not have cleared it.”
Hamilton nodded again. “That was our thinking at the time.”
Livia felt a vortex of rage spiraling up inside her. She tried to tamp it down, and couldn’t. “They had him six years ago, and you got him released? With videos? Of other men raping teenaged girls?”
“I’m not the judge,” Hamilton said. “There’s a system, okay? How I feel personally can’t enter into it. Every person accused of a crime is entitled by the Sixth Amendment to the assistance of—”
“To the assistance of a lawyer,” Livia said. “Not to blackmail videos that are themselves evidence of other crimes being committed by other powerful men. How many girls have been raped, all over the country, because of you?”
“That’s a fair question,” Carl said. “Very fair. But could I respectfully suggest that for the moment we might do better to focus on solving the immediate problem at hand, which is stopping the people who seem intent on killing all of us?”
Livia knew he was right. But she wasn’t done with Hamilton. Or Schrader. No matter how this thing turned out.