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So far, there'd been no leads to the man, either in New York or in California, where Kathryn Dance had started her own investigation.
Rhyme said, "It doesn't have anything to do with him."
Sachs shook her head. "But that's why you wanted it."
"No, you assumed that's why I wanted it."
"What's it about then, one of the other cases?" she asked. Her eyes went to the evidence boards, which revealed the progress of several cold cases they'd been investigating.
"Not those."
"Then what?"
"I could tell you a lot sooner if I wasn't interrupted so much."
Sachs sighed.
At last he came to the section he sought. He paused, looked out the window at the stark brown branches populating Central Park. He believed in his heart that the report would tell him what he wanted to hear but Lincoln Rhyme was a scientist before all else and distrusted the heart.
Truth is the only goal. . . .
What truths would the words reveal to him?
He looked back at the frame and read the passage quickly. Then again.
After a moment he said to Sachs, "I want to read you something."
"Okay. I'm listening."
His right finger moved on the touch pad and the pages flipped back. "This is from the first page. Listening?"
"I said I was."
"Good. 'This proceeding is and shall be kept secret. From June eighteenth to June twenty-ninth, ninety seventy-four, a dozen New York City police officers were indicted by a grand jury for extorting money from shopkeepers and businessmen in Manhattan and Brooklyn and accepting bribes to fail to pursue criminal investigations. Additionally, four officers were indicted for assault pursuant to these acts of extortion. Those twelve officers were members of what was known as the Sixteenth Avenue Club, a name that has become synonymous with the heinous crime of police corruption.'"
Rhyme heard Sachs take a fast breath. He looked up and found her staring at the file the way a child stares at a snake in the backyard.
He continued reading. " 'There is no trust greater than that between the citizens of these United States and the law enforcement officers who are charged with protecting them. The officers of the Sixteenth Avenue Club committed an inexcusable breach of this sacred trust and not only perpetuated the crimes they were meant to prevent but brought inestimable shame upon their courageous and self-sacrificing brothers and sisters in uniform.
" 'Accordingly, I, the Mayor of the City of New York, hereby bestow upon the following officers the Medal for Valor for their efforts in bringing these criminals to justice: Patrolman Vincent Pazzini, Patrolman Herman Sachs and Detective Third-Grade Lawrence Koepel.'"
"What?" Sachs whispered.
Rhyme continued reading. "Each of these officers risked his life on a number of occasions by working undercover to provide information instrumental in identifying the perpetrators and gathering evidence to be used in their trials. Because of the dangerous nature of this assignment, these commendations are being presented in a closed proceeding, and this record will be sealed, for the safety of these three courageous officers and their families. But they should rest assured that, although the praises for their efforts are not being sung in public, the gratitude of the city is no less.'"
Amelia Sachs was staring at him. "He--?"
Rhyme nodded at the file. "Your father was one of the good guys, Sachs. He was one of the three who got away. Only they weren't perps; they were working for Internal Affairs. He was to the Sixteenth Avenue Club just what you were to the St. James crew, only he was undercover."
"How did you know?"
"I didn't know. I remembered something about the Luponte report and the corruption trials but I didn't know your father was involved. That's why I wanted to see it."
"How 'bout that," Sellitto said through a mouthful of coffee cake.
"Keep looking, Lon. There's something else."
The detective dug through the folder and found a certificate and a medal. It was an NYPD Medal for Valor, one of the highest commendations given by the department. Sellitto handed it to Sachs. Her full lips parted, eyes squinting, as she read the unframed parchment document, which bore her father's name. The decoration swung from her unsteady fingers.
