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"Oh, my, now, that's helpful."
As Sachs paced, Thom took over as the scribe.
The information about the Ghost's four-by-four, which the snakehead had abandoned at the site of the Wu shootout, wasn't any better. The Blazer had been stolen and had current but fake dealer tags. Tracing the vehicle identification number revealed only that it had been stolen in Ohio months ago.
Sonny Li sat nearby but wasn't offering his Asian detective insights at the moment; he was rummaging through a large shopping bag he'd brought back from Chinatown a short while before. Lon Sellitto was on his phone, apparently learning that the Ghost had successfully vanished after the shootout, to judge from his scowl.
Sachs, Mel Cooper and the criminalist turned to the trace evidence she'd found in
the Blazer. She'd located a few small grayish carpet fibers under the brake and accelerator pedals and two matching fibers in the cuff of the dead shooter outside the Wus' apartment. The fibers didn't match the carpet in the Blazer or any of the prior scenes and therefore might've come from the Ghost's safehouse.
"Burn 'em and let's check the database."
Cooper ran two of the fibers through the gas chromatograph/mass spectrometer, which produced a record of the exact substances that went into this type of carpet.
As they waited for the results there was a knock on the door outside and a moment later Thom ushered in the visitor.
It was Harold Peabody.
Rhyme assumed that he'd come here to talk to them about Coe's carelessness at the Wus' apartment. But there was a grimness on his face that suggested something more. Then behind him another man appeared. Rhyme recognized him as the assistant special agent in charge--the ASAC--of the Manhattan office of the FBI, a too-handsome man with a perfect chin and smug manners. Rhyme had worked with him several times and found him efficient and unimaginative--and given, as Dellray had complained, to bureauspeak thick as honey. He too was grim-faced.
Then a third man appeared. His crisp navy-blue suit and white shirt suggested to Rhyme that he was bureau as well, but he identified himself tersely as Webley from State.
So, the State Department was now involved, Rhyme thought. That was a good sign. Dellray must've indeed used his guanxi in high places to get them reinforcements.
"Sorry to intrude, Lincoln," Peabody said.
The ASAC: "We need to talk to you. Something happened downtown tonight."
"What?"
"About the case?" Sachs asked.
"We don't think it's related. But it's going to have some implications, I'm afraid."
Well, get on with it, Rhyme thought and hoped his impatient glare conveyed this message.
"Someone planted a bomb in the garage across from the federal building tonight."
"My God," Mel Cooper whispered.
"It was in Fred Dellray's car."
Oh, Lord, no, thought Rhyme.
"No!" Sachs cried.
"A bomb?" Sellitto blurted, snapping closed his cell phone.
"He's okay," the ASAC said quickly. "The main charge didn't go off."
Rhyme closed his eyes. Both he and Dellray had lost people close to them thanks to explosive devices. It was, even unemotional Rhyme believed, the most insidious and cowardly way to kill someone.
"Not hurt?" Li asked, concerned.
"No."
The Chinese cop muttered something, a prayer perhaps.
