Without another word he turned and left the situation room, pulling a cheroot from his pocket.

Rhyme’s phone hummed with a text. He assumed it was Thom, who had taken a few hours off and was seeing the sights in Naples. But he saw immediately that he was wrong. The text was lengthy and, after reading it, he nodded to Sachs. She took the phone and frowned.

“What do you think of this, Rhyme?”

“What do I think?” He scowled. “I think: Why the hell now?”

Chapter 26

Greeting Lincoln Rhyme proved troublesome for some people.

Such as Charlotte McKenzie.

Should you offer a hand and risk embarrassing a “patient” unable to reciprocate? Should you not, and embarrass anyway by suggesting you don’t want to touch a person who’s different?

Rhyme could not have cared less, so he had no reaction when, after an awkward glance at the chair, the woman simply nodded and said with a stilted smile that they should keep their distance; she had a cold.

This was a common excuse.

Rhyme, Sachs and Thom were meeting with McKenzie in the U.S. consulate, a white, functional five-story shoe box of a building, near Naples Bay. They’d showed their passports to the U.S. Marines downstairs and been ushered up to the top floor.

“Mr. Rhyme,” the woman said. “Captain?”

“Lincoln.”

“Yes. Lincoln.” McKenzie was about fifty-five, with a doughy, grandmotherly face, powdered but otherwise largely makeup-free. Her light hair was short, in the style he believed favored by some famous British actress whose name he could not recall.

McKenzie opened a file folder. “Thank you so much for seeing me. Let me explain. I’m a legal liaison officer with the State Department. We work with citizens who’ve run into legal problems in foreign countries. I’m based in Rome but a situation’s come up in Naples and I flew down here to look into it. I’m hoping you might be able to help.”

“How did you know we were here?” Sachs asked.

“That case, the serial killer? An FBI update went to the embassy and all the consular offices. What’s his name, the killer?” she asked.

“We don’t know. We’re calling him the Composer.”

She offered a concerned furrow of brow. “That’s right. Bizarre. Kidnapping and that music video. But you saved the victim yesterday, I read. Is he all right?”

“Yes,” Rhyme said quickly, preempting Sachs and Thom, who might be inclined to explain further.

“How’s it working out with the Police of State? Or is it Carabinieri?”

“Police of State. Working well enough.” Rhyme fell silent and only the lack of a timepiece prevented him from glancing at a wristwatch. He had to convey impatience by a studied lack of interest. But this he was very good at.

McKenzie may have noticed. She got to it. “Well, I’m sure you’re pressed. So thanks for coming in. Your reputation is significant, Lincoln. You’re maybe the best forensic officer in the U.S.”

U.S. only? he thought, unreasonably offended. He said nothing but offered a cool smile.