The Steel Kiss (Lincoln Rhyme 12)

"Let's see if the company or the city is ordering inspections of similar models."

"Yes, good." He hadn't thought of this.

"Computer I can use?"

Rhyme pointed out a desktop nearby. He knew she could use her right hand on the controller but keyboarding was not a possibility. "Could you set Juliette up with a headset and microphone. For computer three."

"Sure. Over here."

Her self-confidence suddenly dimmed and for the first time since he'd met her, Archer seemed uneasy, presumably for having to rely on someone else's help, other than her brother's. She was looking at the computer as if it were a stray dog whose tail was not wagging. Arguing with Rhyme about starting her internship had been different. They were equals. Here she was having to rely on an able-bodied person. "Thank you. I'm sorry."

"This is the least of my trials and tribulations." Thom fitted her with the headset and a touchpad for her right hand. Then he booted up the computer. "You can print out anything you find. But we don't do that much. Easier for everybody to use the monitors." Rhyme used a page-turning frame but that was mostly for books, magazines or documents that arrived in hard-copy form.

"Those are some of the biggest screens I've ever seen." Archer's good cheer had returned in part. She murmured something into the headset and Rhyme saw the screen change as a search engine popped up. "I'll get to work. First, everything I can find about the escalator itself."

Mel Cooper called, "Do you want the model and serial number?"

"Model is MCE-Seventy-Seven," Archer said absently, staring at the screen. "I've got the serial too. Memorized them from the manufacturer's info plate when I came in just now."

And she slowly recited the lengthy numbers into the microphone. The computer responded dutifully to her low, melodic voice.

CHAPTER 11

Still playing infrastructure paparazzo with his digital camera, Mel Cooper continued to prowl about within the scaffolding enshrouding the escalator.

"How did they get it in?" he called. "This thing is huge."

"Removed the roof, cut holes in all the floors, lowered it in by helicopter. Or maybe it was angels or superheroes. I forget."

"Legitimate question, Lincoln."

"Irrelevant question. Therefore illegitimate. What are you seeing?"

"Give me a minute."

Rhyme sighed.

Speed. They needed to move fast. To help Sandy Frommer, of course. But also, as Archer had thought and Whitmore had confirmed, to get a settlement before spurious plaintiffs appeared, hoping for a windfall. He had explained: "The other passengers on the escalator who leapt off. The injuries were minor--or nonexistent--but that doesn't mean they won't sue. And then," the lawyer had added, "there'll be those who claim emotional distress because they simply saw a gruesome accident and their lives will be changed forever. They'll never get on an escalator again... Nightmares. Eating disorders. Loss of income from taking workdays off. Yes, it's true. Nonsense, but true. This is the world of personal injury law."

Archer now called from the computer station she was parked in front of: "The city's suspended the operation of all MCE-Seventy-Seven models pending inspection. Reading from the Times. There are fifty-six installed in New York City, nearly a thousand elsewhere. No other reports of malfunctions."

Interesting. Rhyme wondered if an inspection might find something beneficial to their case. He wondered how fast it would be concluded.

Finally Cooper joined Rhyme and slipped the SD memory card out of the Sony camera. He loaded it into a computer slot and called up the pictures on a high-def monitor. The screen was big enough that dozens of images fit side by side.

Rhyme moved closer.

"Here're the parts that seem relevant." The tech stepped to the screen and pointed. "The panel that popped up. It serves as both a step--the top, immobile step--and an access panel for maintenance and repairs. Hinged on the far side, away from the escalator stairs. I'd guess the weight about forty or so pounds."

Archer called, "Forty-two." She'd found specifications, she explained, in a Midwest Conveyance installation and maintenance manual.

Cooper continued, "And it's assisted by a spring so when the catch is released the door pops up about sixteen inches."

Consistent with Sachs's observation and photos.

"A worker can lift it all the way from there and use a rod to keep it open--like the sort used to support car hoods." Pointing, Cooper indicated images he'd taken. "To close the door workers lower it by pushing it down or, I'd guess, standing on it, until a triangular bracket on the bottom of the door meets a spring-fed pin on a fixed bar. Here. The bracket pushes the pin in until the panel's all the way down and the pin snaps into a hole to lock it closed."

"How is it released?" Rhyme asked.