“Okay,” Livia said. “But now it sounds like they can’t stop the system without going to one of Schrader’s houses. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Hamilton said. “But it’s more than that. Andrew said he has to personally reset it.”
“Biometrics,” Carl said. “That would be my guess. Although I hope for Schrader’s sake he didn’t rely on just a fingerprint reader. Otherwise, they’re not going to escort him to one of his nice houses. Just his hands in a bucket of ice.”
Hamilton lost some color. “No, it’s more than just fingerprints. Andrew said there’s something about a voice-stress analyzer, too. To make sure he’s not being coerced.”
“Whoever has your client,” Larison said, “you better hope they’re invested in keeping those videos suppressed. Because if what they want is for the videos to be released, all they have to do now is snuff him and let his system do its automated thing.”
Livia had been thinking along the same lines. “It’s possible,” she said. “But they didn’t need to break him out of jail for that.”
She summarized for Manus. He said, “I think Larison is onto something.”
Everyone looked at Manus. He’d been quiet for so long.
“Rispel wanted me to kill you,” he said to Diaz. “And wanted Dox and Larison to kill me after. So that Schrader could go free, the way he did six years ago. When that didn’t work, they broke him out of jail. But being let out, and being broken out, aren’t the same thing. The second one doesn’t take the pressure off him. He can’t enjoy his houses, his lifestyle, his rape parties. It’s not what he wants. It’s not what Hamilton was playing for when as his lawyer she tried to make a deal with the attorney general.”
Everyone was quiet for a moment, digesting that.
“In other words,” Manus went on, “the first plan was to give him what he wanted. The second is to get someone else . . . what they wanted.”
Livia nodded, thinking Manus might have made a good cop. “We know it was Rispel who hired you,” she said. “You think someone else broke Schrader out of prison?”
“It’s a different plan,” Manus said. “With a different objective. That could mean a different party. Or it could mean Rispel changed her mind. She was playing for one thing, and then decided to play for something else.”
It was a sound framework. What they needed were more inputs.
“Okay,” Livia said. “If the current plan is to cause an automatic upload, Schrader is probably dead already. If the plan is different . . . getting control of the videos for blackmail, something like that . . . they’re going to have to take Schrader to one of his houses. Ms. Hamilton, do you know where those houses are?”
“You can call me Sharon.”
“I’ll call you Ms. Hamilton.”
Hamilton looked taken aback. It would never stop amazing Livia. The collaborators. The enablers. The familiars. They never felt culpable.
After a moment, Hamilton said, “Yes. My firm sets up the entities through which the real estate is purchased and held.”
“How many houses are we talking about?”
“Six. The Bainbridge Island compound here in Washington State, which is the primary residence. The others are in Los Angeles, New Mexico, Aspen, Wyoming, and New York.”
Livia looked at Carl. “We don’t have the resources. Not even with . . .” She had almost said Rain, but even after Larison’s admonition to Hamilton, thought first names would be safer. “Not even with John. The houses are a good lead, but we need more information.”
Carl took out a cellphone and popped in a battery. “Can you fire up that satellite hotspot?” he said to Larison. “Virgin burner, no SIM card, Wi-Fi connection. Unless there’s an AWACS plane overhead, no one can geolocate, so nothing to worry about, we’re good to go.”