The Burial Hour (Lincoln Rhyme 13)

"He was by the magnolia."

She pointed but the view was blocked by yet another refugee bus crawling along the road.

When it passed, and the view was clear once again, she could see the man no more. Rania scanned the road and fields bordering the camp but found no trace.

"Do you want me to call a team together?"

She debated.

A voice from the office called, "Rania, Rania! The shipment of plasma. They can't find it. Jacques needs to talk to you. Jacques from the Red Cross."

Another scan of the roadway. Nothing.

"No, don't bother. Thank you, Tomas."

She swiveled about, to return to her office and cope with yet another cascade of crises.

Endless...

Chapter 28

Don't really want it to deflect us too much from the Composer, do we now, Sachs? But it's a curious case. An intriguing case."

Rhyme, referring to the Garry Soames matter.

She gave a wry laugh. "A landmine of a case."

"Ah, because of Dante Spiro? We'll be careful."

They were in their secondary situation room: the cafe across the street from the Questura. Sachs, Rhyme and Thom. Rhyme had tried to order a grappa but Thom, damn it, had preempted him with sparkling water and coffee for everyone. How was he going to acquire a taste for the liquor if he was denied access?

In fairness, however, the cappuccino was good.

"Ah, here we go."

Rhyme noted the lanky figure of Ercole Benelli stride from the police headquarters toward the cafe. He spotted the Americans, crossed the street, stepped past the Cinzano barrier and sat down on a rickety aluminum chair.

"Hello," he said formally, the tone revealing his curiosity. The young officer was, of course, wondering why Sachs had called and asked to meet out here.

Rhyme asked, "Has Beatrice found any prints on the plant leaves or any trace from the Composer's surveillance outside the restaurant near D'Abruzzo?"

Ercole grimaced. "The woman is quite insopportabile. You say, intolerable?"

"Yes, or insufferable."

"Si, insufferable is better! I asked her several times of her progress and she glared at me. And I wished to know if you can fingerprint the bark of a tree. An innocent question. Her expression, frightening. As if saying, 'Of course you can! What fool doesn't know that?' And can she not smile? How difficult is that?"

Lincoln Rhyme was not one to turn to for sympathy in matters like this. "And?" he asked impatiently.

"No, nothing, I'm afraid. Not yet. She and her assistants are working hard, however. I will give her that."

Ercole ordered something from the waitress and a moment later an orange juice appeared.

Rhyme said, "Well, we have another situation we need help with."

"You have

more developments about our musical kidnapper?"