Laurel underhanded a glance at Rhyme. Sachs certainly had a point—one that hadn’t even occurred to him. He cared very little about the broader questions of right and wrong when it came to the law. It was enough for him that Albany or Washington or the city council had defined an answerable offense. His job was then simple: tracking down and building a case against the offender.

Just like with chess. Did it matter that the creators of that arcane board game had decreed that the queen was all-powerful and that the knight made right-angle turns? No. But once those rules were established, you played by them.

He ignored Laurel and kept his eyes on Sachs.

Then the assistant DA’s posture changed, subtly but clearly. Rhyme thought at first she was defensive but that wasn’t it, he realized. She was going into advocate mode. As if she’d stood up from counsel table in court and had walked to the front of the jury—a jury as yet unconvinced of the suspect’s guilt.

“Amelia, I think justice is in the details,” Laurel began. “In the small things. I don’t prosecute a rape case because society becomes less stable when sexual violence is perpetrated against women. I prosecute rape because one human being behaves according to the prohibited acts in New York Penal Code section one thirty point three five. That’s what I do, that’s what we all do.”

After a pause, she said, “Please, Amelia. I know your track record. I’d like you on board.”

Ambition or ideology? Rhyme wondered, looking over the compact package of Nance Laurel, with her stiff hair, blunt fingers and nails free of polish, small feet in sensible pumps, on which the liquid cover-up had been applied as carefully as the makeup on her face. He honestly couldn’t say which of the two motivated her but one thing he observed: He was actually chilled to see the absence of passion in her black eyes. And it took a great deal to chill Lincoln Rhyme.

In the silence that followed, Sachs’s eyes met Rhyme’s. She seemed to sense how much he wanted the case. And this was the tipping factor. A nod. “I’m on board,” she said.

“I am too.” Rhyme was looking, though, not at Myers or Laurel but at Sachs. His expression said, Thanks.

“And even though nobody asked me,” Sellitto said with a grumble, “I’m also happy to fuck up my career by busting a senior federal official.”

Rhyme then said, “I assume a priority is discretion.”

“We have to keep it quiet,” Laurel replied. “Otherwise evidence will start disappearing. But I don’t think we have to worry at this point. In my office we’ve done everything we can to keep a lid on the case. I really doubt NIOS knows anything about the investigation.”

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6