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Dellray said a cheerful, "No, no, no. You don' wanna."
Banks reluctantly held out his hands.
Sachs, angry, offered the agent a cold smile. "How was your trip to Morningside Heights?"
"He still killed that cabbie. Our PERT boys're crawling over that house now like beetles on dung."
"And that's all they're going to find," Sachs said. "This unsub knows crime scenes better than you and I do."
"Downtown," Dellray announced, nodding at Sachs, who winced as the cuffs ratcheted tight around her wrists.
"We can save the next one too. If you--"
"You know what you got, Officer Sachs? Take a guess. You gotchaself the right to re-main silent. You got--"
"All right," the voice called from behind them. Sachs looked around and saw Jim Polling striding along the sidewalk. His slacks and dark sports shirt were rumpled. It looked as if he'd napped in them, though his bleary face suggested he hadn't slept in days. You could see a day's growth of beard and his sandy hair was an unruly mess.
Dellray blinked uneasily though it wasn't the cop he was troubled by but the tall physique of the U.S. attorney for the Southern District behind Polling. And bringing up the rear, SAC Perkins.
"Okay, Fred. Let 'em go." From the U.S. attorney.
In the modulated baritone of an FM disk jockey the Chameleon said, "She stole evidence, sir. She--"
"I just expedited some forensic analysis," Sachs said.
"Listen--" Dellray began.
"Nope," Polling said, completely in control now. No temper tantrums. "No, we're not listening." He turned to Sachs and barked, "But don't you try to be funny."
"Nosir. Sorry, sir."
The U.S. attorney said to Dellray. "Fred, you made a judgment call and it went south. Facts of life."
"It was a good lead," Dellray said.
"Well, we're changing the direction of the investigation," the U.S. attorney continued.
SAC Perkins said, "We've been conferencing with the director and with Behavioral. We've decided that Detectives Rhyme and Sellitto's positioning is the approach to pursue."
"But my snitch was clear that something was going down at the airport. That's not the sorta thing he'd be wishy about."
"It comes down to this, Fred," the U.S. attorney said bluntly. "Whatever the fucker's up to, it was Rhyme's team that saved the vics."
Dellray's lengthy fingers folded into an uncertain fist, opened again. "I appreciate that fact, sir. But--"
"Agent Dellray, this's a decision that has already been made."
The glossy black face--so energized at the federal building when he was marshaling his troops--was now somber, reserved. For the moment, the hipster was gone. "Yessir."
"This most recent hostage would've died if Detective Sachs here hadn't intervened," the U.S. attorney said.
"That'd be Officer Sachs," she corrected. "And it was mostly Lincoln Rhyme. I was his legman. So to speak."
"The case is going back to the city," the U.S. attorney announced. "The Bureau's A-T is to continue to handle terrorist-informant liaison but with reduced manpower. Anything they learn should be conveyed to Detectives Sellitto and Rhyme. Dellray, you're gonna put bodies at their disposal for any search-and-surveillance or hostage-rescue effort. Or anything else they might need. Got that?"
"Yessir."
"Good. You want to remove those handcuffs from these officers now?"
