The young man had come to town from upstate New York, where he was working after graduating from SUNY in Albany. Rhyme remembered the boy as being quiet and pleasant enough, though he’d had some anger issues and mood problems – common among the children of law enforcers. But that was years ago and now he seemed mature and steady. In a voice missing any of Lon’s Brooklyn twang, Richard Sellitto told Rhyme that his father’s condition was largely unchanged. He was still categorized as critical. Rhyme was pleased that the young man was doing everything he could to support Rachel and Sellitto’s ex, Richard’s mother.

After he disconnected, Rhyme gave Cooper the update – which was really no update at all. He reflected that this was one of the most horrific aspects of poisoning: The substance wormed its way into your cells, destroying delicate tissues for days and weeks afterward. Bullets could be removed and wounds stitched. But poisons hid, residing, and killed at their leisure.

Rhyme now returned to the chart containing the pictures of the tattoos.

What on earth are you trying to say? he wondered yet again.

A puzzle, a quotation, a code? He kept returning to the theory that the clues referred to a location. But where?

His phone buzzed once more. He frowned looking at the caller ID. He didn’t recognize it.

He answered. ‘Rhyme here.’

‘Lincoln.’

‘Rookie? Is that you? What’s wrong?’

‘Yes, I—’

‘Where the hell have you been? The team’s at the hotel, where you’re meeting Weller. Or were supposed to be meeting. They’ve been in place for an hour. You never showed up.’ He added sternly, ‘We were, you can imagine, a little concerned.’

‘There was a problem.’

Rhyme fell silent. ‘And?’

‘I kind of got arrested.’

Rhyme wasn’t sure he’d heard. ‘Say again.’

‘Arrested.’

‘Explain.’

‘I didn’t get to the hotel. I got stopped before.’

‘I said explain. Not confuse.’

Mel Cooper looked his way. Rhyme shrugged.

‘There’s an agent with the NYBI here. He wants to talk to you.’

The New York Bureau of Investigation?

‘Put him on.’

‘Hello, Detective Rhyme?’

He didn’t bother to correct the title.

‘Yes.’

‘This’s Agent Tom Abner, NYBI.’

‘And what’s going on, Agent Abner?’ Rhyme was trying to be patient, though he had a feeling that Pulaski had screwed up the undercover set and ruined whatever chance they had to learn more about the associates of the late Watchmaker. And given the ‘I got arrested’ part, the screwup must’ve been pretty bad.

‘We’ve found out that Ron is an NYPD patrol officer in good standing, active duty. But nobody at headquarters knew about any undercover set he was running. Can you confirm that Ron was working for you on an operation?’