How exactly, in an age of wildfire social-media gossip, did Team Beyoncé pull off the stealth release of a fourteen-song, seventeen-video behemoth, whose production credits include not just the entire Knowles-Carter clan — Bey and Jay and baby Blue, who gets a “featuring” production credit on the album’s closing ballad — but a roll call of additional boldface names? Timbaland, Pharrell, Drake, Justin Timberlake, Miguel, Sia, Frank Ocean, The-Dream, Ryan Tedder, Hit-Boy, the list goes on. When you add up all the handlers, gophers, personal assistants, masseuses, best boys, key grips, etc., involved in the production of this “video album,” the numbers climb into the hundreds, perhaps even thousands, and it staggers the imagination to imagine how many lawyers, how many nondisclosure agreements, it took to keep the thing under wraps. I mean, the video for “Mine,” an eerily stark ballad with a rap by Drake, was directed by Terry Richardson — and even that little creep didn’t let it slip as he was trying to lure a teenage model back to his loft. The NSA could learn a thing or two about leak proofing from Beyoncé.