The Kill Room (Lincoln Rhyme 10)

"Afraid it was. We think it's a clean-up op, probably that Metzger ordered."

"Fuck," Dellray spat out. "Man's gone rogue big time."

"He sure has." Sachs told him too that they'd found there were two perps. "We still don't know which of them set the bomb at the coffee shop."

"Well, I gotcha a few things you might be interested in."

"Go ahead. Anything."

"First off, the mobile your sniper was using--the one registered to Mr. Code Name Don Bruns, with that fake Social Security number and a Delaware corporation? The company's buried way deep but I traced it to some shell outfits that NIOS's used in the past. Probably why the phone's still active. Lotta time the government thinks they're too smart to get found out. Or too big. But you didn't hear that from me."

"Good. Thanks, Fred."

"And turns out your friend the late and great Mr. Moreno was not planning to detonate a big bang of mass destruction and move into a cave."

He explained he was referring to Robert Moreno's mysterious message about "vanishing into thin air, May twenty-fourth."

"What was it about?" Sachs asked.

The FBI agent continued, "Was a play on words, seems. What it is: Some of our folk down in Venezuela found out that Moreno and his family were moving into a new house on the twenty-fourth."

He gave them the details: Robert Moreno had bought a four-bedroom home in the Venezuelan city of San Cristobal, one of the more upscale locales in the country. It was on a mountaintop.

Thin air...

Laurel nodded at his words, obviously pleased. So Moreno might not be the Western Hemisphere's answer to Bin Laden.

Gotta keep the jury happy, Sachs thought cynically.

The agent continued, "Oh, and the IED attack in Mexico City on May thirteen? Now, this one's almost funny. The only thing with a Moreno connection on that date in Mexico City was a big fund-raiser for a charity he was involved with. Classrooms for the Americas. Called Balloon Day. Everbody bought a balloon for ten dollars then you popped it and got a prize inside. They had over a thousand balloons. I gotta say, my lungs aren't up to a task like that."

Sachs slumped, closing her eyes. Jesus.

Can we find somebody to blow them up?...

"Thanks, Fred." She disconnected.

Upon hearing these revelations, Laurel said, "Interesting how first impressions can be so completely wrong. Isn't it?" She didn't seem to be gloating but Sachs couldn't tell.

If you don't mind...

I'm just curious...

Sachs fished out her phone and called Lincoln Rhyme.

His answering words: "I'm thinking we should get a chameleon."

Not "Hello" or "Sachs."

"A...lizard?"

"They're quite interesting. I haven't seen one change color yet. Do you know how they do it, Sachs? Metachrosis is what it's called, you know. They use hormonal cell signaling to trigger changes in the chromatophore cells in their skin. I find it truly fascinating. So how's the case going up there?"

She ran through the developments.

Rhyme considered this. "I suppose that makes sense, two different perps. Metzger isn't going to use his star sniper in New York to clean up. I should have thought of that."

I should have too, she reflected sadly. Picturing Lydia Foster's body.