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feldspar.
Lincoln Rhyme hated someone else’s answering his own questions.
Lon Sellitto was a detective first grade, NYPD, and the one responsible for the giant steps. Padding along beside him was his slimmer, younger partner, Jerry Banks, spiffy in his pork gray suit of fine plaid. He’d
acetate—but
Thom knew enough about quadriplegia to be a doctor and had learned enough forensics from Lincoln Rhyme to be a detective.
“For Perkins, in fact.” Thomas Perkins, special agent in charge of the Manhattan office of the FBI. “One of Fred Dellray’s runners is missing.”
Special Agent Fred Dellray, a longtime veteran with the Bureau, was a handler for
In fact, if there was any downside to PH Distributors, Inc., it was that the federal government and New York State were expending great energy to shut it down and throw its president in
Jersey. Hansen was behind it—a fact the U.S. attorney and the New York attorney general knew but couldn’t prove.
“And nobody ever dimes him,” said Banks. “Ever.”
Could one calculate the time of death of an insect?
Once he skinned this corpse—took some guy’s hands off and wore ’em like gloves to fool CS about the prints.”
Sellitto briefed Sachs about the case against Phillip Hansen, the witnesses who’d seen his plane make its midnight run, and the bomb last night.
In the 1890s, when the place had been built, the room
solid oak floorboards joined
Captain Bo Haumann, head of the NYPD’s Emergency Services Unit—the police’s SWAT team.
majeure.
Doppler effect
“Brisance.”
antimony,
Sir, we do not. It’s a telescope. This one is a Redfield, three-by-nine variable, with crosshair reticles. There is none better, sir.
Sir, I am in excellent physical shape, I am fastidious, I am right-handed, I have 20/20 vision, I do not smoke or drink or take any kind of drugs, I can lie still for hours at a time, and
Stephen cradled the gun, smelling the machine oil from the bolt-action receiver and the neat’s-foot oil from the sling, so worn and soft it was like angora. The Model 40 was a 7.62 millimeter NATO rifle and weighed eight pounds, ten ounces.
Glock or Sig-Sauer
The conditions were excellent. There was a slight right-to-left crosswind, which he guessed was four miles an hour. The air was humid, which would buoy the slug. He was shooting over unvaried terrain with only moderate thermals.
Stephen loaded five rounds into the chamber. They were M-118 match-quality rounds, manufactured at the renowned Lake City arsenal. The bullet itself was a 173-grain boattail and it struck its target at a speed of a half mile a second.
conchoidal,
Rhyme had a body that wouldn’t tolerate neglect. Bedsores could lead to sepsis and blood poisoning. Fluid in the lungs, to pneumonia. Didn’t catheterize the bladder? Didn’t massage the bowels to encourage a movement? Spenco boots too tight? Dysreflexia was the consequence and that could mean a stroke. Exhaustion
Men love to look at
gorgeous women, but nothing intimidates them more.
askew.
tiercel
blue devils . . . ” Cooper
ago. Probably dead by now, the only clue to his
It was a poor part of town. Derelicts sat on street corners, bottles of Thunderbird and Colt 44 were strewn on the sidewalk, and the polka dots of
crack vial caps were everywhere. A huge rat chewed something gray in the alley.
“Semper Fi.”
Alabyrinth.
Years after Alfred Beach died workmen building another subway line broke through a wall and discovered his original tunnel, long abandoned, with its opulent waiting room, which had included murals, a grand piano, and a goldfish tank.
On a curb in downtown Manhattan sat Leon the Shill. Beside him was the Bear Man—so named because he wheeled around a shopping cart filled with dozens of stuffed animals, supposedly for sale, though only the most psychotic of parents would buy one of the tattered, licey little toys for their child. Leon and the Bear Man lived together—that is, they shared an alley near Chinatown—and survived on bottle deposits and handouts and a little harmless petty larceny.
Winchesters
Rugers.
Ka-rack.
Sachs, the criminalist, examined the squalid spot carefully, smelling garbage, rot, urine, the salty smell of the subway.
brayed
“Because you were boosting pills.
brayed.
half a clip of nine-millimeter hollow-points into him.
Sig-Sauer
7.62-millimeter automatic.
