Page 146 of The Midnight Lock (Lincoln Rhyme 14)

But they’ve done this before and, in the instant of my hesitation, they’re on me.

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Well, if he isn’t a people cop after all.”

Rhyme cut a look to his former partner and grumbled, “Beg your pardon?”

Sellitto said, “Your interrogation. You got a confession about killing his father. And found out there were no other vics. Played a little of the old mind games. See, evidenceisn’teverything, Linc.”

A shrug. “I figured as long as we had him, why not chat? Obviously he has father issues, so I thought I’d rile him up and see where it went. It’s easy to get somebody to fess up when he’s about to murder the confessee. But, for the record, evidence is a moreelegantway to build a case and it always will be.”

“Have to have the last word, don’t you, Linc?” Sellitto was smiling.

“Uhm.”

Yannis Gregorios sat in a chair, hands cuffed behind him. His eyes were constantly in motion.

Amelia Sachs did the Miranda thing, and asked, “Do you wish to waive your right to speak to an attorney before questioning?”

“No,” Gregorios answered absently.

It hardly mattered; they had enough to put him away forever.

Rhyme noted that he was taking in doors and windows—well, specifically, locks and latches.

“Rookie?”

“Lincoln?” asked Ron Pulaski.

“Zip-tie his wrists.”

“We’ve got the cuffs double locked. Nobody can get out of ’em.”

Rhyme lowered his head and the man apparently came to understand that the prisoner they were soon to be taking downtown was nicknamed “the Locksmith.”

“Oh, good point.”

The young man slipped on the nylon restraints.

Gregorios’s face revealed not the anger one might expect. His eyes were gazing at Rhyme as if the two were competitors in a champion chess match and Rhyme had just made the opening move in a game long anticipated.

The Watchmaker had once looked at him with an identical expression.

Two uniforms, a sturdy man and woman, arrived. “Transport to Central Booking.”

Pulaski nodded at Gregorios and each of the patrol officers took an arm and led him to the door, Pulaski following.

“A moment?” Gregorios said. His escorts stopped. He looked back to Rhyme. “It seems we’re nowbothlocked men. I wonder who’ll be free first.”

He turned and the four vanished out the door.

To Gregorios, yes, Rhyme had expressed surprise as to how he’d breached his castle—and the other victims’.

In fact, though, his team had figured out the Locksmith’s likely MO—Talese and Noelle had broadcast images of their dwellings, their security systems, their solitary lifestyles and such details as their tendency to take sleeping aids or indulging in a glass or two of wine before bed.

So Rhyme had proposed that Sachs broadcast a plea for help from the citizens in Rhyme’s apartment, the camera angle wide enough to catch the locks and the alarm panel.

Would it work? They didn’t know. But it was worth a try.

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