Ron Scott nodded to two ESU officers. “Get him downtown. Central Booking.”

As he was led out, Wallace called back, “I’m not saying anything. If you think I’m going to name names, you can forget about it. I’m not confessing.”

Flaherty gave the first laugh Sachs had ever heard from her. “Are you mad, Robert? Sounds like they’ve got enough evidence to put you away forever. You don’t need to say a word. Actually, I’d just as soon you didn’t open your goddamn mouth ever again.”

III

8:32 A.M. THURSDAY

Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its pupils.

—LOUIS-HECTOR BERLIOZ

Chapter 34

Alone now, Rhyme and Sachs looked over the tables containing the evidence that had been collected in both the St. James corruption scandal and the Watchmaker case.

Sachs was concentrating hard, but Rhyme knew she was distracted. They’d stayed up late and talked about what had happened. The corruption was bad enough but that officers themselves had actually tried to kill other cops shook her even more.

Sachs claimed she was still undecided about quitting the force but one look at her face told Rhyme that she was going to leave. He also knew she’d had a couple of phone calls with Argyle Security.

There was no doubt.

Rhyme now glanced at the small rectangle of white paper sitting in her briefcase open in his lab: the envelope containing Sachs’s letter of resignation. Like the glaring light of the full moon in a dark sky, the whiteness of the letter was blinding. It was hard to see it clearly, it was hard to see anything else.

He forced himself not to think about it and looked back at the evidence.

Gerald Duncan—dubbed “Perp Lite” by witty Thom—was awaiting arraignment on the infractions he had committed, all minor ones (the DNA analysis revealed that the blood on the box cutter, on the jacket fished out of the harbor and pooled on the pier was Duncan’s own, and the fingernail crescent was a perfect match).

The 118th Precinct corruption case was moving slowly.

There was sufficient evidence to indict Baker and Wallace, as well as Toby Henson. Soil at the Sarkowski crime scene and the samples Sachs had collected at Creeley’s Westchester house matched trace found in Baker’s and Henson’s homes. Of course, they had a rope fiber implicating Baker in Creeley’s death, but similar fibers were found on Wallace’s boat. Henson owned leather gloves whose texture patterns matched those found in Westchester.

But this trio wasn’t cooperating. They were rejecting any plea bargains, and no evidence implicated anyone else, including the two officers who’d been outside the East Village social club, who claimed they were innocent. Rhyme had tried to unleash Kathryn Dance on them but they were refusing to say anything.

Eventually, Rhyme was confident, he could find all the perps from the 118th and build cases against them. But he didn’t want eventually; he wanted now. As Sachs had pointed out, the other cops from the St. James might be planning to kill more witnesses—maybe even make another attempt on her or Pulaski. It was also possible that one or more of them were forcing Baker, Henson and Wallace to remain silent by threatening their families.