Billy walked onto the subway car, choosing a spot to stand that was close enough to the men to hear their conversation. Yes, he realized, they were just as they seemed to be – businessmen who’d finished some meeting uptown and were heading back to their office on Madison Avenue to write up some reports about how the meeting had gone.

Brakes released, and with a grind the train started south, rocking, squealing through the switches.

Soon they were in Manhattan, and diving beneath the surface. The Underground Man was in his world once again.

It had been a risk, taking the subway, but at least he’d minimized the danger. And apparently won. Rather than take the Number One train or the Number Four – the next one east – or even the B and D, he’d sped the several miles to the Allerton Avenue station, to catch the Number Two train. He’d assumed that someone – well, Lincoln Rhyme of course – might have ordered officers to the closer stations. But even the NYPD didn’t have the resources to search everywhere. He’d hoped his brisk pace would put him beyond the reach of a manhunt.

Apparently this was so.

As they sped south, Billy reflected: You’re not the only one who can anticipate, Captain Rhyme.

CHAPTER 26

Mr 11-5 knows what he’s doing, Lincoln Rhyme reflected yet again, as he guided his Merits to the evidence examination table, where Mel Cooper and Sachs were examining the evidence from the hospital.

Despite her exhaustive search of the corridors, the doctors’ office building and the ‘skin museum’, the evidentiary findings from the abortive assault on Harriet Stanton were minimal.

There were no friction ridges; he’d been clever enough not to actually touch Harriet with his fingers (prints can be lifted off skin). He’d either gripped only her clothing or touched her flesh with his sleeves. And somewhere between fleeing the site of the attack in the basement and his slipping into the specimens room, he’d pulled on latex gloves (not vinyl, which display distinctive wrinkle patterns that can be introduced at trial).

But unlike the earlier scenes, he’d been taken by surprise, so he didn’t have the chance to don booties. Sachs got some good electrostatic footprints.

Size eleven Bass shoe, though that meant only that he was wearing a size eleven Bass shoe, not that he had size eleven feet.

The wear pattern of the tread marks, which sometimes could give details about weight and posture, didn’t reveal much but, Rhyme reflected, who cared? They knew his weight and posture.

Sachs rolled the floor around the footprints for trace, just in case. But Mel Cooper reported that the analysis revealed, ‘A lot of Inwood marble and more of the cleanser and medical materials that had led us to the hospital in the first place. Some of the cleanser again. Nothing else.’