The Steel Kiss (Lincoln Rhyme 12)

If she'd had an hour she might have parsed the documents and found something relevant that might lead to the unsub's motive, victims past and victims future, his identity. She did the only thing available, though. Grabbed the laptop computer, ripped out the power cord and with no time to unscrew the wires connecting it to the monitor sliced the unit free with her switchblade.

"Leave that," the FDNY firefighter said through her mask.

"Can't," Sachs said and hurried to the window.

"Need both your hands!" Shouting was required now. The building moaned as its bones snapped.

But Sachs kept her arm around the computer and clambered out onto the ladder, gripping with her right hand only. Her legs scissored around one side and another rung. Every muscle in her body, it seemed, was cramping. But still she held on.

The operator below maneuvered them away from the building. The office room Sachs had been in just seconds before was suddenly awash with flame.

"Thanks!" Sachs called. The woman was either deaf to her words because of the roar or was pissed that Sachs had ignored her warning. There was no response.

The ladder retracted. They were twenty feet above the ground when it jerked and Sachs finally had to release the computer to keep herself from plunging to the street.

The laptop spun to the sidewalk and cracked open, raining bits of plastic and keys in a dozen different directions.

An hour later Lincoln Rhyme and Juliette Archer were at one of the evidence tables. Mel Cooper was nearby. Evers Whitmore stood in the corner, juggling two calls on two mobiles.

They were awaiting the evidence from the burned-out building; the structure was completely gone. It had collapsed into a pile of smoldering stone and melted plastic, glass and metal. Sachs had ordered a backhoe to excavate and Rhyme hoped something of the incendiary device might remain.

As for the computer, Ron Pulaski had taken it downtown to the NYPD Computer Crimes Unit at One PP in hopes that Sachs's mad vertical dash hadn't been in vain; Rodney Szarnek would determine if any data on the laptop was salvageable.

The front door now opened and another figure walked into the parlor. Amelia Sachs's face was smudged, her hair askew, and she wore two bandages, presumably covering cuts from broken glass--it seemed she'd taken out at least three panes in her dramatic breakin of Williams's office.

Rhyme was actually surprised she wasn't more badly hurt. He wasn't happy she'd ignored him and taken the risk. But they'd fallen into an unspoken agreement years ago. She pushed herself to extremes and that was just who she was.

When you move they can't getcha...

An expression of her father's and it was her motto in life.

Sachs carried a small milk crate, containing evidence from the building--very little, however, as was often the case when a scene is destroyed by flames.

A bout of coughing. Tears ran.

"Sachs, you okay?" Rhyme asked. She'd refused a trip to the emergency room and remained at the scorched site to excavate and to walk the grid, as soon as the fire department gave the all-clear, while Rhyme, Whitmore and Thom had returned to his town house here.

"Little smoke. Nothing." More coughing. She glanced wryly at Mel Cooper. "You look just like somebody who works for the NYPD."

The tech blushed.

She handed the crate to Cooper, who examined the bags.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

He stepped to the chromatograph to begin running the analysis. Sachs, wiping her eyes, was looking over at Juliette Archer. Rhyme realized they'd never met. He introduced them.

Archer said, "I've heard a lot about you."

Sachs nodded a greeting, rather than offering a hand, of course. "You're the intern Lincoln mentioned was going to be helping out."

Rhyme supposed he'd never mentioned that Archer was in wheelchair. In fact, he believed he'd never told Sachs anything about his student, even the name or sex.

Sachs looked briefly at Rhyme, a cryptic glance, perhaps chiding, perhaps not. And then to Archer: "Nice to meet you."

Whitmore disconnected from one, then another, call. "Detective Sachs. You sure you're all right?"