Barry Eisler - Inside out

"To bring Larison into the open?"

"That's the idea. Snatch Larison, get him to spill his guts, recover the tapes, and call it a day."

"That's not going to work."

"That's right it's not going to work. You tell me why."

Ben thought for a moment, imagining Larison, putting himself in the man's position, assessing the same threats, gaming out the same countermeasures. "Because… Larison would have planned for this. He said he's got the tapes on some kind of electronic dead-man trigger. He's not going to give that up, even under duress, because he knows that wouldn't stop the duress."

"I agree. They're going to torture him to prove a negative-that there are no more copies of the tapes. No matter what he gives up, they can't know he's given up everything, so they get their doctors to keep him alive, and the torture never ends, ever. Larison knows what he's in for if he's caught. So what does he do?"

"He sets the dead man to a short fuse."

"That's right. He knows the only thing that could deliver him from his agony is having the tapes published. So by snatching him-"

"They might as well just publish the tapes themselves."

"Good. Now, tell me this. How would you handle the situation if you were in charge?"

Ben had worked with Hort long enough to know when Hort was grooming him for some new skill set. But this was different. These were management-style questions, not tactical. Again, he was both confused and intrigued.

"I'd… leave Nico and his family alone. And when Larison called in, I'd tell him everything we'd found out. I'd tell him the bad news is, we know who he is, we know about Nico, we know everything. And if those tapes ever get released, we take it out on Nico and his family."

"Good again. And what would be the good news?"

Ben thought. "I'd give him a bonus, I guess. Not a hundred million, that's crazy, and maybe Larison would try to use it to resettle the family and eliminate our leverage. But something. A million, five million, something to show goodwill and no hard feelings. You know, enjoy the money, enjoy your life and your good health, and as long as those tapes never get revealed, it's all live and let live. It's not foolproof, but I think it's the best we could do under the circumstances."

There was a pause. Hort said, "Remember how I told you in, say, ten years, you could be as good as Larison?"

"Yeah."

"I was wrong. I think you're going to be better, and it's not going to take that long. You're already smarter, more in control of yourself, than the people who are jerking our chains."

Ben was as intrigued by the reference to "our" chains as he was by Hort's hints regarding the people who were jerking them. And as much as he wanted to believe Hort's praise was deserved, he wondered whether there was something behind it, something he couldn't yet see.

"I told them," Hort said. "I told them we could not control this thing one hundred percent. That we need to work the odds. As long as there's even a five percent chance the tapes could be released, we can't move against Larison. And as long as there's even a five percent chance of retribution against Nico and his family, Larison can't release the tapes. Both sides indulge in a little strategic ambiguity while in fact standing down. That's the best way for us to get what we say we really want, which is for those tapes not to be released."

"What do you mean, 'what we say we really want'?"

"Look, if they really just wanted the tapes, I already told them their best course of action. The problem is, they don't just want the tapes. They also want Larison. They're scared and they're angry, and even though they don't know it and won't admit it, part of what's driving them is the urge to subdue the author of their pain and strap him to a table and exercise dominion over his body, mind, and soul. They need to feel like they're in control again, and just having the tapes out there with the lowest probability of release isn't going to help with that."

"But torturing Larison will."

Hort sighed. "I want you to remember something, son. Remember it and never forget."

"Okay."

"There are going to be times when you will be tempted to use what the New York Times in their chickenshit way calls 'harsh interrogation techniques.' You can call it whatever you want, you and I know what it means, and so does everybody else."

"Okay."

"A good ops man understands his real objectives, knows the right objectives, and chooses his means accordingly. So when you feel that temptation, you never forget that when you resort to those tactics, your motives are at least as much about the means as they are about the ends."

"I don't follow."

"People always say they're torturing to get the information. But there are a lot of ways better than torture to get information. So you don't torture just because you want the information. You torture because you want to torture. I didn't know this when I was your age. I know better now, and I don't want you to make the mistakes I've made. Not just for tactical reasons, either. I don't want your soul to have to bear it. I've seen what that does to a man. And I don't want you to make the same mistakes these assholes keep making, again and again and again, and never learning from them. So promise me."

Damn, he'd never heard Hort so agitated. He felt like he was starting to get a better sense of those unseen forces at work, that Hort was opening a window and letting him see inside. "I promise," he said.

"Good. Now, Larison's supposed to call in to the DCI thirty minutes from now. He's expecting to get a status update about the diamonds. Instead, someone is going to tell him the diamonds aren't coming and that if he doesn't immediately hand over the tapes, Nico's family is going to start getting smaller."

"What good would it do if he turned something over anyway? He could have made a hundred copies."

"That's not the point. They're just trying to bait him into going to San Jose."

"You think it'll work?"

There was a pause. "I think he'll come. But if he does, he'll be ready. And these Ground Branch guys, going up against a cornered, desperate man like Larison… they're not going to get him. They're going to get killed."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to observe. Whatever happens, it's going to be hairy. Maybe you'll be able to see something or learn something that'll keep us in the game after this play is over. But you need to stay to the sidelines. These guys don't know you, and they could be trigger-happy."

"What about Lanier?"

"Your FBI friend?"

"I wouldn't call her my friend."

"Can you lose her?"

"I don't know. She's pretty tenacious."

"Well, you'll have to lose her or manage her, one or the other. You don't want her in your way."

Ben wasn't sure which would be easier. "Okay," he said.

"Larison should be calling in shortly. I'll let you know how it goes. If this plan of theirs works out, I'd say you can expect him to arrive in Costa Rica in anywhere from the next six to twenty-four hours. It's going to be an interesting day in San Jose."

Caught in the Crossfire Ulrich was just heading into Trinity Methodist with his wife when he saw Clements standing by the entrance. Christ, were they watching him now? And was this their way of letting him know they were watching?

No, he was probably just being paranoid. And even if they were watching, so what? Did they really think they could intimidate him? He had the recordings, and God help them if they pushed him.

"You go ahead," he said to his wife. "I just need to make a quick call."

She smiled understandingly and went inside. She knew he viewed church attendance mostly as a matter of keeping up appearances, both in the community and, just in case, with the Almighty. More often than not, the pre-church calls he made lasted longer than just a minute.