The Steel Kiss (Lincoln Rhyme 12)

"I have a meeting I need to attend. But before that we'll send all our customers another link to the security patches with a memo reminding them they have to install those patches. People's lives could be at stake."

"Thanks," Sachs said.

"Good luck to you. If we can help, please let us know."

The webcam closed. And Rhyme and Sachs reconvened the team, reporting on what Chaudhary had said.

Which, while it might stymie some of Unsub 40's future attacks, was essentially of no help whatsoever in tracking him down.

Rhyme glanced at the whiteboard he, Archer and Whitmore had created for the Midwest Conveyance case. "I want to consolidate our charts, Sachs. See what evidence we've got."

Rather than actually transport the Unsub 40 whiteboards from Sachs's war room at One PP to the parlor here, she asked an assistant at Major Cases to take phone pictures and email them. They arrived in seconds.

Sachs now transcribed the details of the crime scenes onto the whiteboard. And added what they'd learned from Williams's computer. The team reviewed them.

Rhyme watched Sachs staring at the chart, her right index finger and thumb spinning her blue-stone ring compulsively. Shaking her head, she muttered, "We're still waiting for the sawdust, the varnish and the DNA and friction ridges from the napkins. CS in Queens never got back to us." A glance toward him, a cool glance, as if this speedbump was his fault. Which, he guessed, it partly was, thanks to the Cooper kidnapping.

"Let me see the micro pictures of the sawdust," Rhyme said.

Sachs went online, into the secure CSU database, typed in the case file and conjured up the images.

Rhyme looked them over. "I'd say mahogany. Mel?"

After a fast examination the tech said, "Ninety-nine percent sure. Yes."

"Ah, Sachs, you were right. Mea culpa for stealing him out from under your nose." He'd meant this as a joke but she didn't respond. Rhyme continued, "And you're right about sanding. The particles aren't from sawing. Suggests fine woodworking." She wrote this down. And Rhyme added, "No idea about the varnish. There's no database. We'll just have to see what the analysts can come up with. What's the story with the napkins?"

Sachs explained about the White Castle lead. "I don't know why the hell it's taking so long to run DNA and enhanced friction ridge." She snagged her phone and called the crime scene operation in Queens, had a brief conversation. Disconnected.

A scowl. "It's taking so long because they lost them."

"What?" Cooper asked.

"Somebody in the evidence room lost the napkins. They got tagged wrong, seems. A clerk's looking."

It could be, Rhyme knew, an imposing quest. The evidence room was not one room at all but a number of them, which contained hundreds of thousands of items of evidence. Looking for a needle in a stack of needles, Rhyme had once heard.

"Well, fire whoever dropped the ball on that one," he snapped.

He scanned the chart again, noting the new entries. Unsub 40 was either very lucky or very careful. The evidence gave no clear direction either as to where he lived or worked or to where he might be going to strike next, assuming he'd picked up some of the trace while assessing a future victim.

CRIME SCENE: 151 CLINTON PLACE, MANHATTAN, CONSTRUCTION SITE, ADJACENT TO 40deg NORTH (NIGHTCLUB)

- Offenses: Homicide, Assault.

- Victim: Todd Williams, 29, writer, blogger, social topics.

- COD: Blunt force trauma, probably ball-peen hammer (no brand determined).

- Motive: Robbery.

- Credit/debit cards not yet used.

- Evidence:

- No friction ridges.

- Blade of grass.