Rodney Szarnek, from Computer Crimes, called back. On the other end of the line was, thank you, only the geeky voice, no raw, wah-wah guitar licks. “Lincoln?”

“You have a location?”

“New York metro area.”

Something I don’t know, please.

“I know you’re disappointed. But I can narrow it down. Maybe four, five hours.”

“Too long, Rodney.”

“I’m just saying. He’s used proxies. That’s the bad news. The good is that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. He’s logged onto some free VPNs, which—”

“No time for Greek,” Rhyme grumbled.

“It’s amateur stuff. I’m working with YouVid and we can crack it but—”

“Four hours.”

“Less, I’m hoping.”

“Me too.” Rhyme disconnected.

“Have something else here, Lincoln.” Mel Cooper was at the Hewlett-Packard gas chromatograph/mass spectrometer.

“The footprint trace? Something he stepped in?”

“Right. We have more olanzapine, the antipsychotic. But something else. Weird.”

“Weird is not a chemical property, Mel. Nor is it particularly fucking helpful.”

Cooper said, “Uranyl nitrate.”

“Jesus,” Rhyme whispered.

Dellray frowned and asked, “What, Linc? That’s some pretty bad shit, I’m hearing?”

Rhyme was resting the back of his skull against the headrest of his wheelchair, staring at the ceiling. He was vaguely aware of the question.

Sellitto now: “Uranus nitrate. Is it dangerous?”

“Uranyl,” Rhyme corrected impatiently. “Obviously it’s dangerous. What would you call uranium salt dissolved in nitric acid?”

“Linc,” Sellitto said patiently.

“It’s radioactive, produces renal failure and acute tubular necrosis. It’s also explosive and highly unstable. But my exclamation was positive, Lon. I’m delighted that our perp may have trod in this stuff.”

Dellray said, “’Cause it’s highly and extremely and deliciously rare.”

“Bingo, Fred.”

Rhyme explained that the substance had been used to create weapons-grade uranium for the Manhattan Project—the effort to make the first atomic bomb in World War II. While the project’s engineering headquarters had been based, temporarily, in Manhattan, hence the name, most of the work in constructing the bombs had occurred elsewhere, notably Oak Ridge, Tennessee; Los Alamos, New Mexico; and Richland, in Washington State.

“But there was some actual construction and assembly in the New York area. A company in Bushwick, Brooklyn, made uranyl nitrate. They couldn’t produce enough, though, and gave up the contract. The company’s long gone but the site still has residual radiation.”

“How do you—” Sellitto began.

Rhyme said smoothly, “EPA waste sites. Wonderful, Lon. Don’t you study them? You don’t collect them?”

A sigh. “Linc.”

“I do. They tell us such wonderful things about our neighborhoods.”

“Where is it?” Cooper asked.

“Well, I don’t have the address memorized. It’s an EPA waste site, designated as such. Bushwick, Brooklyn. How many could there be? Look it up!”

Only a moment later Cooper said, “Wyckoff, not far from Covert Street.”

“Near Knollwood Park Cemetery,” said Sachs, a Brooklyner born and bred. She stripped off her lab jacket and gloves and started out of the parlor, calling, “Lon, get a tac team together. I’ll meet them there.”

Chapter 6

Stefan froze at the sound.