The CS searchers, Rhyme noted, had found something interesting—on and around the secretary's desk were a number of fibers. The report indicated only their color—mostly white, some black and a single red one—but nothing else about them.

They also found two tiny flecks of gold foil.

The CS team had learned that the break-in had occurred after the cleaning service had finished with the office so the fibers probably had not been left by Grady's secretary or anyone legitimately in her office during the day. Most likely they'd come from the intruder.

Rhyme came to the last page. "That's it?" he asked.

"Reckon so," Bell responded.

A grunt from the criminalist. "Command, telephone. Call Peretti comma Vincent."

Rhyme had hired Peretti as a crime-scene cop some years ago and he'd proved talented at forensics. What he'd truly excelled at, though, was the far more esoteric art of police department politics, which, unlike Rhyme, he preferred to the work of actually running crime scenes. He was now head of the NYPD's Investigation and Resource Division, which oversaw the crime-scene unit.

When Rhyme was finally put through, the man asked, "Lincoln, how are you?"

"Fine, Vince. I—"

"You're on this Conjurer case, right? How's it going?"

"It's going. Listen, I'm calling about something else. I'm here with Roland Bell. I've got the report on the Grady office break-in—"

"Oh, the Andrew Constable thing. Those threats against Grady. Right. What can I do?"

"I'm looking at the report now. But it's just the preliminary. I need some more information. Crime Scene found some fibers. I need to know the exact composition of each one, length, diameter, color temperature, dyes used and amount of wear."

"Hold on. I'll get a pen." A moment later: "Go ahead."

"I also need electrostatics of all the footprints and photos of their patterns on the floor. And I want to know everything that was on the secretary's desk, credenza and bookshelves. Everything on any surface, in any drawer, on the wall. And its exact location."

"Everything the perp touched? Okay, I guess. We'll—"

"No, Vince. Everything that was in the office. Everything. Paper clips, pictures of the secretary's children. Mold in the top drawer. I don't care whether he touched it or not."

Huffy now, Peretti said, "I'll make sure somebody does it."

He didn't see why Peretti didn't do it himself, which is what Rhyme would have done, even as head of IRD, to make sure the job got done immediately.

But in his present role as consultant he had only limited clout. "Sooner is better. . . . Thanks, Vince."

"Don't mention it," the man said coolly.

They hung up. Rhyme said to Bell, "Not much else I can do, Roland, until we get that information."

A glance at the break-in report. Fibers and backwoods militiamen . . .