The Computer Crimes Unit cop said, "I actually know the guy operating the proxy service. We had a running argument about The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo a year or so ago and we played hack against each other for a while. He's good. Not as good as me, though. Anyway, I charmed him into helping us, as long as he doesn't have to testify."
Despite his sour mood at the moment Rhyme had to laugh. "The good old boy network is alive and well--literally, a network."
Szarnek may have laughed too, though it was hard to tell because of the music that filled in the gaps between his words.
"Now, he knows for sure that the email originated in the New York area and that no government servers were involved in any of the routing. They were sent from a commercial Wi-Fi. The whistleblower might've bootlegged somebody's account or used free Wi-Fi at some coffee shop or hotel."
"How many locations?" Sachs asked.
"There are about seven million unprotected accounts in the New York area. Give or take."
"Ouch."
"Oh, but I've managed to eliminate one."
"Only one? Which?"
"Mine." He laughed at his own joke. "But don't worry, we can shrink the number down pretty fast. There's some code we have to break but I'm borrowing supercomputer time at Columbia. I'll let you know ASAP if I find something."
They thanked the cop. He returned to his awful music and beloved boxes, Sachs to her angry keyboarding and Rhyme to the anemic whiteboards.
His own mobile rang and he gripped the unit, noting that the area code was 242.
Well, this is interesting, he thought and answered the call.
CHAPTER 22
HELLO, IS THAT YOU, CORPORAL?"
"Yes, Captain, yes," replied Royal Bahamas Police Force officer Mychal Poitier. A faint laugh. "You seem surprised to hear me. You didn't think I would call back."
"No, I didn't."
"It's late. I have called at a bad time, maybe?"
"No, I'm glad you did."
Ringing bells sounded in the distance. Where was Poitier? The hour was late, yet Rhyme could hear the murmur of crowds, large crowds.
"When we spoke earlier I wasn't alone. Some of my answers may have seemed odd."
"I was wondering about that."
Poitier said, "You may have gathered that there was some disinclination to cooperate." He paused as if wondering whether or not this was actually a word.
"I did gather that."
A blast of music like a calliope, the classic circus theme, swelled.
Poitier continued, "And you were perhaps curious why a young officer like me was put in charge of what would seem to be a very important case when I'd never run a homicide before."
"Are you young?" Rhyme asked.
"I am twenty-six."
Young under some circumstan
ces, not so young under others. But for homicide work, yes, he was a rookie.