The perverse copyright notice came up on the screen.

Rhyme asked, “Metadata?” Information embedded in pictures and videos about the work itself: type of camera, focal length, date and time, speed and aperture settings, sometimes even the GPS location. This had been removed from the New York video, but perhaps the Composer failed to do so here.

Rossi said, “None. The Postal Police said it was re-encoded and all the data stripped out.”

“Postal Police?”

“It is our telecommunications arm.”

Rossi stared at the black screen for a moment. “How much time do you think we have?”

Rhyme shook his head. Any suggestion would be simply a guess, a waste of effort.

Sachs mused, “How does the gallows work? Something off camera will pull the noose up, a weight or something.”

They looked at the video for any clue but saw nothing.

“Well, let us move now. See if we can solve this puzzle. Captain Rhyme—”

“How did I draw my conclusions I told you about?”

“Yes. That’s where we should start.”

Nodding toward the now-translated chart, Rhyme said, “The trace, of course. Now, the substances paired with the propylene glycol are shaving cream. With the blood, it’s a reasonable conclusion that he cut himself shaving. To change his appearance as much as he can, he’d lose the hair and beard. The shaved-head look seems popular here in Italy.

“Now, the indole, skatole and thiol are excrement.” A glance toward the chart once more. “Those’re shit. With the paper fiber? Human shit, of course. No other creatures I know wipe. It’s old shit, quite old, desiccated. You can see in the picture—and of several different types. See the color and texture variations? I would speculate there is a sewer nearby, one that might not have been used for some time.

“The animal hairs are from a rat. It’s shedding because it’s scratching; it has a skin irritation—the bartonella bacteria are causing that. The particular strain is the one that most commonly infects rats. Rats and sewers, well, you find them everywhere but more often in cities than smaller towns. So, urban setting.”

“Bene,” said Beatrice Renza.

“The iron shavings tell me the Composer cut a lock or chain to get access to the place. Iron isn’t used much anymore—most locks are steel—so it’s old. With the rust on only one side—you can see it there, that photo—it was recently cut.”

Rossi said, “You suggested it used to have public access, in the past.”

“Yes, because of the rubber.”

“The rubber?” Ercole asked. He seemed to be memorizing all that Rhyme said.

“What else would be vulcanized? Translucent, decomposing shreds. Vulcanized rubber.”

It was Beatrice who nodded. “They are the old condoms, might it not be?”

“Exactly. Hardly a romantic trysting place, with the rat neighbors, and sewers, but perfect for streetwalkers.” Rhyme shrugged. “They’re bold deductions. But we have a man who’s about to be strangled to death. I don’t think we have time to be timid. So, what does this tell you about where the victim might be? Underground in Naples? Of course, a deserted area.”