All the Devils Read online

  PRAISE FOR THE LIVIA LONE SERIES

  “An absolutely first-rate thriller . . . Emotionally true at each beat.”

  —New York Times Book Review

  “An explosive thriller that plunges into the sewer of human smuggling . . . Filled with raw power, [Livia Lone] may be the darkest thriller of the year.”

  —Kirkus Reviews, starred review

  “[An] exciting thriller . . . Eisler keeps a firm hand on the throttle of what could be the first of a rewarding series.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Livia is a complex and sympathetic character . . . Readers of hard-boiled fiction, heavily tinted toward noir, may see in Livia something of Carol O’Connell’s Kathy Mallory, also a cop with an abuse-filled past and an appetite for revenge.”

  —Booklist

  “Eisler offers up an astonishingly raw tale that is dark and disturbing, but one that you will want to finish. Both the compelling narrative and the fascinating—yet seriously flawed—heroine are indications that Eisler is at the top of his game.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Barry Eisler is back, and then some. [Livia Lone] may be the best and strongest work of his storied career . . . Livia Lone moves like a freight train . . . Jump on what appears to be the start of a terrific new series.”

  —Bookreporter

  “A literary home run in every respect.”

  —Providence Journal

  “Former CIA agent Barry Eisler’s latest sexy cyber thriller follows Seattle PD sex-crimes detective Livia Lone, who knows the monsters she hunts . . . The story is riveting.”

  —Boing Boing

  “Everything you could want in a great thriller—a badass main character, an emotional and suspenseful plot, lots of high stakes, gritty murders and well-written action scenes.”

  —Night Owl Reviews

  “An entertainingly riveting read from cover to cover, The Night Trade showcases author Barry Eisler as a master of narrative-driven fiction enriched for the reader with unexpected twists and turns throughout.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  ALSO BY BARRY EISLER

  A Clean Kill in Tokyo (previously published as Rain Fall)

  A Lonely Resurrection (previously published as Hard Rain)

  Winner Take All (previously published as Rain Storm)

  Redemption Games (previously published as Killing Rain)

  Extremis (previously published as The Last Assassin)

  The Killer Ascendant (previously published as Requiem for an Assassin)

  Fault Line

  Inside Out

  The Detachment

  Graveyard of Memories

  The God’s Eye View

  Livia Lone

  Zero Sum

  The Night Trade

  The Killer Collective

  SHORT WORKS

  “The Lost Coast”

  “Paris Is a Bitch”

  “The Khmer Kill”

  “London Twist”

  ESSAYS

  “The Ass Is a Poor Receptacle for the Head: Why Democrats Suck at Communication, and How They Could Improve”

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2019 by Barry Eisler

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781542094238 (hardcover)

  ISBN-10: 1542094232 (hardcover)

  ISBN-13: 9781542094221 (paperback)

  ISBN-10: 1542094224 (paperback)

  Cover design by Rex Bonomelli

  First edition

  For Danny, Evan, and Pete

  You can’t make new old friends—and I’m glad

  I’ll never need to.

  CONTENTS

  Start Reading

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  Epilogue

  NOTES

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Hell is empty

  And all the devils are here.

  —William Shakespeare, The Tempest

  Prologue

  One Month Earlier

  Boomer pulled up behind the collapsed wall and cut the lights. Even inside the minivan, the rotting sulfur smell was enough to make his eyes water. He might have gagged, if he hadn’t been used to it.

  He opened the door and stepped out, his boots crunching on what sounded like gravel but what he knew instead were the pulverized bones of a million poisoned fish. The air was furnace hot: past midnight and still almost a hundred degrees. But what the hell, it was a dry heat. Besides, it had been hotter in Iraq, and back then he’d endured it on combat patrols while loaded with eighty pounds of gear.

  He closed the door. Other than the ticking of the engine, the night was completely still. Around him stood a few derelict structures glowing faintly beneath a low crescent moon: A broken-down trailer. A windowless storefront. The skeletal frame of a roofless house. Fifty yards farther on was the edge of the stagnant water, a vast sinkhole of darkness. Miles across, on the eastern shore, he could make out a few scattered lights. Hard to imagine anyone still living around here. But if you were desperate enough, it was amazing what you could endure. Even the stench of the Salton Sea.

  He heard footfalls coming from his left. He turned and squinted. It was too dark to make out a face, but he recognized the silhouette well enough.

  “Snake,” he called out. “You son of a bitch, is that really you?”

  The moonlight glinted off a smile. “You dumb bastard, who else?”

  And then there he was, close enough to really see now. The same compact, wiry frame, the same coiled-danger vibe that had put the fear into almost everyone. Snake.

  Boomer laughed and started walking toward him. “I can’t believe it. Get over here, you crazy fuck.”

  They hugged, tightly, old comrades in arms. Then Boomer stepped back, still holding Snake’s shoulders. “Seriously, I can’t believe you’re out. What’s with the encrypted messages and coordinates? And why here, why not a bar?”

  “Come on, man, it wouldn’t do for Congressman Bradley Michael ‘Boomer’ Kane the Third to be seen associating with a convicted felon. Plus, you know, this is our place.”

  Boomer ignored the last part because yeah, it was their place. Or at least it
had been. “General court-martial,” he said, releasing Snake’s shoulders. “Not a civilian proceeding. No such thing as a felony in the military.”

  Snake laughed. “Shit, now you even sound like a congressman. Anyway. Abusive sexual contact. Conviction and dishonorable. Is what it is.”

  “You were smart to plead it down. Aggravated sexual assault, you’d have another ten years still ahead of you. Maybe more.”

  “Whatever. For you, it’s the same guilt by association.”

  “Like I give a fuck.”

  “That’s your call, if you want to make it. But I wasn’t going to take the choice away from you.”

  Boomer was moved by the man’s loyalty. And after so much time, too. “Thanks, brother.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “You need anything? Money? Place to stay?”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Bullshit you’re good. Almost seven years in Leavenworth, don’t tell me you’re good.”

  “Don’t I look good?”

  Boomer laughed. “All right, I’ll give you that.” They were quiet for a moment, and he added, “I didn’t even know you were out. I should have been following more closely. I’m sorry. Paroled?”

  Snake nodded. “Model prisoner. All I did was read, jerk off, and work out. Not necessarily in that order.”

  Boomer laughed again. “Yeah, business before pleasure.”

  “Don’t you know it, brother. Anyway, don’t worry. I know you got a lot on your plate. Fucking congressman, seriously, I can’t believe it.”

  “Yeah, sometimes I can’t believe it, either.”

  “Your old man must be proud.”

  Boomer preferred not to talk about the admiral. Or even think about him, if he could avoid it. “Hard to know what that asshole thinks,” he said. “Never exactly been generous with the praise.”

  They were quiet again. The night was so still, the sky studded with stars. It felt good, being with Snake again. Just the two of them, away from all the bullshit.

  Snake said, “Brings back memories, right?”

  “Being out here?”

  “Yeah.”

  Boomer couldn’t deny it. Not that he wanted to. “Sure does.”

  “Remember the one we brought here from El Centro? Eight years ago?”

  Boomer nodded, feeling wistful. “That little Latina, Camila. Damn, she was tasty.”

  “You know I called her.”

  Boomer looked at him. “Seriously?”

  Snake shrugged. “We took her cellphone, remember? I figured she’d have the same number when she replaced it. So I memorized it. Stole a phone and called her after I got out.”

  “How’d she sound?”

  “Sweet.”

  “What’d you say to her?”

  Snake smiled. “What do you think I said?”

  Boomer smiled back, thinking of the best song ever. The soundtrack he’d been playing since high school, that he and Snake liked to play even now. “Let the good times roll.”

  Snake laughed. “Ah, I hate to be so obvious. But yeah. Sang her a verse.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “Oh, you know.”

  Boomer punched him in the shoulder. “Come on, man, tell me!”

  Snake laughed again. “She gasped. Sounded like she was going to choke. Brought it all back, I could tell.”

  Boomer’s mouth felt dry. “And then?”

  “Ah, she hung up. But she knew it was me. Knew I was still thinking of her, just like she’s still thinking of us. And she always will be, too. Especially anytime she hears that song.”

  They were quiet for a moment. Boomer realized he hadn’t felt this happy in a long time.

  “You miss it?” Snake said.

  Boomer sighed. “Only every day.”

  “Guess you can’t, what with being a public figure and all.”

  “Yeah, it has its disadvantages. Plus it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  “Or as easy.”

  “Exactly. Look what happened to you the first time you decided to have some fun on your own.”

  Snake smiled. “Got news for you, brother, it wasn’t the first time.”

  Boomer realized he should have seen that coming. “Whatever. When the shit hit the fan was when I wasn’t there to have your back.”

  “Fair enough. Good lesson for me, I’ll tell you that.”

  They were quiet again. If it hadn’t been for the stink, it would have been a beautiful night. All those stars, and the silence, and the endless, empty desert.

  Snake said, “How’s the Senate race coming?”

  For some reason, it made Boomer feel embarrassed. “What, you’ve been reading about me?”

  “Told you, nothing else to do in the joint. Better than jerking off about you.”

  Boomer laughed. “Yeah, I wouldn’t advise that. Anyway, I guess it’s going all right. Some ups and downs. Bumps in the road, you know how it is.”

  “Read you got a ‘Me Too’ problem. Chick from high school saying you raped her at a party. Big football jock forcing himself on a little cheerleader. Classic.”

  “Yeah,” Boomer said. “Can you believe it? Twenty-plus years ago and she’s bringing it up now.”

  What that bitch Noreen was trying to do to him was so unfair. His advisors were always telling him it was okay to be outraged about it with the media—what man wouldn’t be, in the face of such a vile lie? But a lot of that was acting. Because, come on, sure it was vile, but it wasn’t exactly a lie, either.

  Snake looked at him. “Is it true, though?”

  “You’re asking me that? Hell yes, it’s true.”

  Snake laughed. “Just messing with you, man. Portrait of the young artist, am I right?”

  Boomer shrugged. “Guess you could say that. Bitch sure is causing me some headaches, though.”

  “Heard she got a bunch of death threats. Had to go into hiding, some shit like that.”

  “So it seems.”

  “Damn, Congressman, you must have some seriously devoted constituents.”

  “Maybe. Don’t know if it’s going to help, though. She’s still giving interviews.”

  “I don’t know. Don’t think she’s given one in, what, three days now, is that right?”

  Boomer looked at him, knowing Snake was up to something, not sure what it was. “What are you not telling me, man?”

  Snake pointed toward the water. “I’m parked over that way. Come on. Want to show you something.”

  They walked southeast, away from the ruins, their boots crunching on the fish-bone beach. In the pale light, Boomer could make out what looked like a panel truck parked at the edge of the water.

  They stopped at the back of the truck. Snake pulled open the doors. It was too dark to see inside.

  Snake took a mini-light from a pocket, adjusted it to a low setting, and shone it into the back of the truck.

  On the floor, behind a row of bench seats, was a woman, trussed and gagged, wearing nothing but a diaper, her eyes wide and terrified.

  It took Boomer a moment to understand. “Is that . . . Fuck, is that her? Noreen?”

  Snake nodded. “Early Christmas for you, brother.”

  Boomer’s heart started pounding. “Are you kidding me? Christmas? This is going to kill me, man, are you out of your fucking mind?”

  “Kill you? How?”

  Christ, Snake really was crazy, and though it was one of the things Boomer loved about him, this was too much. The campaign would never survive this. Hell, he would never survive this.

  “You can’t just . . . We can’t just disappear someone who’s been doing interviews, publicly accusing me of raping her! I’m the first guy the cops are going to talk to!”

  “Talk to you about what? You left your phone home like I told you, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then you were never here. And Noreen was never here, either. I got a little dinghy in the truck. Picked it up for twenty-three bucks at a Walmart outsi
de Yuma. Weights and chains, too. The usual.”

  Noreen made some muffled, desperate noises from behind the gag. Snake looked at her. “Remember what I told you about talking, honey. You want me to pull another fingernail?”

  But apparently, Noreen was afraid of more than just losing another fingernail, because she shook her head frantically and kept on trying to say something.

  “That’s a shame,” Snake said. “You wouldn’t know it, but she’s been good for days. The whole ride out here. Only had to pull one nail, right after I picked her up. ‘Hiding,’ my ass. I’d like to see the bitch who can hide when it’s me looking for her.”

  “You don’t get it,” Boomer said. “I’ve got press in my face all the time. Maybe they haven’t noticed yet because she’s supposed to be in hiding, but at some point, someone’s going to report her as missing. And the media’s going to be up my ass about it. ‘Isn’t this just a tad convenient for you, Congressman Kane, your accuser going missing?’”

  Snake continued to shine the mini-light at Noreen’s face. “Well, brother, I’m just a dumb former GI and ex-con besides, and you’re an esteemed congressman and all that, but the way I’d play it if some jerkoff reporter ever suggested Noreen disappearing was convenient for me? I’d say hell no, it’s not the least bit convenient, because her disappearance denies me the opportunity to face my bullshit accuser and clear my good name.”

  Boomer looked at Noreen’s face. It was surreal seeing her after all this time, naked and trussed, not least because how many times had he fantasized about something exactly like this since she’d gone public ten days earlier?

  “And don’t you have contacts?” Snake said. “People who can plant rumors with the media? You know, the disappearance is a stunt she’s pulling, to focus attention on you and because she knew her allegations were going to be proven lies. No apologies. You don’t give ground. Attack back. Go on offense, brother. Like we always did. And it always worked for us before.”

  Boomer kept looking at Noreen. Actually, she’d held up pretty well. Even with the diaper, he could tell she’d kept the skinny hips that had attracted him in the first place. The kind that always attracted him. Her tits looked good, too. Maybe partly from the way Snake had trussed her. “Shit, man,” he said absently. “You wrapped her like a damn present for me, didn’t you?”

  Noreen squirmed and tried to say something again. It came out “Mmmmmmph!”