The Skin Collector (Lincoln Rhyme 11)

'How is he?' Sachs asked.

'They don't know yet. They don't know anything.' Rachel wiped more tears. 'He came home. He said he had the flu and just wanted to lie down for a bit. When I was leaving for my shift he didn't look good. I left but then I thought, no, no, he doesn't have the flu. It's something else.' Rachel was a nurse and had worked trauma rooms for some years. 'I came back and found him convulsing and vomiting. I cleared an airway and called nine one one. The medic said it seemed to be poisoning. What had he eaten or had to drink recently? They thought it was food poisoning. But no way. You should've seen him.'

'Sachs, show your shield. Tell somebody that Lon was running a case involving water hemlock, tetrodotoxin, concentrated nicotine and a plant that contains atropine, hyoscyamine and scopolamine. Oh, and hypochlorous acid. That might help them.'

She scribbled this down and walked to the nurses' station, relayed the information and then returned.

'Was he attacked? Tattooed?' Rhyme asked. Then explained about the unsub's MO.

'No. He must've ingested it,' said Rachel. She straightened her mass of brown hair, laced with gray strands. 'On the way to the hospital he came to briefly. He was pretty disoriented but he looked at me and seemed to recognize me. His eyes, they kept flipping into and out of focus. The pain was terrible! I think he broke a tooth, his jaw was pressed so tight together.' A sigh. 'He said a couple of things. First, that he'd had a bagel with some salmon, cream cheese. At a deli in Manhattan, downtown.'

'Unlikely to get any poison into his food in a public facility,' Rhyme said.

'I thought that too. But he said something else.'

'What was that?' Sachs asked.

'He said your name, Amelia. And t

hen "coffee". Or "the coffee". Does that mean anything?'

'Coffee.' Sachs grimaced. 'It sure does. At the Belvedere scene there was a fireman walking around with cartons of coffee. He offered some to both of us. Lon took one. I didn't.'

'Fireman?' Rhyme asked.

'No,' Sachs said grimly. 'It was Eleven-Five, wearing a fireman's uniform. Goddamn it! He was right in front of us. Of course that's who it was. I remember he was wearing gloves when he passed out the coffee. Jesus. He was two feet away from me. And had a bio mask on. Naturally.'

'Excuse me.' A voice behind them.

The doctor was a slight East Indian with a powdery complexion and busy fingers. He blinked when he noted the pistol on Sachs's right hip then relaxed, seeing the gold shield on the left. Rhyme's wheelchair received a fast, uninterested glance.

'Mrs Sellitto?'

Rachel stepped forward. 'It's Parker. Ms. I'm Lon's partner.'

'I'm Shree Harandi. The chief toxicologist here.'

'How is he? Please?'

'Yes, well, he is stable. But his condition is not good, I must tell you. The substance he ingested was arsenic.'

Rachel's face filled with dismay. Sachs put her arm around the woman.

Arsenic was an element, a metalloid, which meant it had characteristics of metals and non-metals, like antimony and boron. And it was, of course, extremely toxic. Rhyme reflected that the unsub had moved beyond plant-based toxins to a different category altogether - elemental poisons were no more dangerous but they were easier to come by since they had commercial uses and could simply be purchased in lethal strengths; you didn't need to extract and concentrate them.

'I see there are police here.' Now he glanced at the wheelchair with more understanding. 'Ah, I've heard about you. You are Mr Rhymes.'

'Rhyme.'

'And I know Mr Sellitto is a police officer too. You gave me the information about the possible poisons?'

'That's right,' Sachs said.

'Thank you for that but we determined arsenic quickly. Now, I must tell you. His condition is critical. The dose of the substance was high. The organs affected are the lungs, kidneys, liver and skin and he's already had changes in fingernail pigmentation known as leukonychia striata. That is not a good sign.'

'Inorganic arsenite?' Rhyme asked.

'Yes.'