The Skin Collector (Lincoln Rhyme 11)

Shutting off the water flow by closing the main valves would be only temporarily disruptive.

'Who cares? That couldn't be the motive,' Rhyme had said.

Then he'd offered: But what would make sense was to trick the city into shutting off the supply to lower the pressure. Which would allow their unsub to drill into the pipe and introduce a poison into the line. He'd then plug the hole; Rhyme had reminded the team about the welding material evidence found at the Chloe Moore crime scene.

And the poison, Rhyme had concluded, would be botulinum - since they'd found traces of the material from cosmetic surgical supply houses and the Botox syringes. Rhyme had thought the plastic surgery evidence meant their unsub was planning on changing his appearance. But it was possible too that the purpose of the break-in was to steal botulinum, whose spores were maintained by medical operations specializing in plastic surgery products and supplies. He'd decided botulinum had to be the poison; no other toxin was powerful enough to cause widespread devastation.

Rhyme had called his FBI contact, Fred Dellray, and City Hall and explained what he suspected. The mayor and police chief had in turn ordered the DEP to announce that it was shutting down the water supply for a few hours. In fact, they kept the system fully operational - which because of the pressure would prevent anything from being introduced into the pipes. The DEP would use the grid sensors to pinpoint any leaks, telling the NYPD exactly where the unsub had cut into the line.

As she sat impatiently behind the wheel of her car, the engine growling, Sachs's phone rang once more. It was Rhyme. 'Where are you, Sachs?'

'Almost at the spot DEP gave us.'

'Listen to me.'

'What else would I be doing?' she muttered. And concentrated on avoiding an idiot of a bicyclist.

Rhyme continued, 'I've just been on the phone with the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta. We conferenced - forgive the verb - with Homeland Security and the bio-chem weapons people at Fort Detrick. It's worse than I thought. Don't go into the access room. We're getting a tactical hazmat team together.'

'I'm here, Rhyme. Now. I can't just sit around and wait. The unsub's right underneath me.'

She pulled the muscle car up on the sidewalk, scooting pedestrians out of the way. They complied; she looked far too fierce to argue.

Rhyme continued, 'I just realized that this isn't ordinary botulinum.'

'Now, that's a phrase you don't hear every day, Rhyme.'

'It's been modified to be chlorine-resistant. That's why we found the undiluted hypochlorous acid - what he was using to alter the strain. We have no idea how potent it is.'

'I'll be wearing face mask and coveralls.' She ran to the back of her car, popped the trunk and yanked out her crime scene kit.

'You need full biohazard gear,' h

e protested.

She hit speaker, set the phone down and called, 'The unsub knows we haven't cut the supply yet - the water'll still be spurting out of the hole he drilled. He's waiting for the valves to close but he's not going to wait very long. He'll rabbit, with who knows how much of that shit.'

'Sachs, listen. This isn't arsenic or snakeroot. You don't have to drink it or eat it. One ten-thousandth of a gram in a mucous membrane or wound'll kill you.'

'Then I won't pick my nose or scrape my knee. I'm going in, Rhyme. I'll call when I've cleared the scene and got him in metal.'

'Sachs--'

'For this one I need to go in quiet,' she said firmly and clicked disconnect.

CHAPTER 65

Amelia Sachs easily found where the unsub had gone underground: the manhole on 44th Street, near Third, which Pulaski had told her about.

She dug the tire iron out of the trunk of her Torino and used it to muscle the heavy metal disk up and then managed to push the cover to the side. She aimed her Glock into the pitch-black hole. She peered down, hearing a powerful hissing noise - the leaking pipe, she assumed. She holstered her weapon.

Well, let's get to it. Go and go fast.

When you move, they can't getcha ...

Thanks to the recent medical procedures, she now felt lithe as a thirteen-year-old as she turned and began down the ladder.

Thinking: I'm in bright white coveralls, lit from above and behind.