Page 140 of The Watchmaker's Hand

A tall redheaded woman in jacket and jeans and bulletproof vest was trotting forward, leading a dozen other officers, some in full battle gear. She held a large black pistol. Others slipped from the bushes beside and behind David.

Who, she now guessed, might not be a David after all.

He shook his head and lifted his hands above his head.

Carol had had potential romances fail for any number of reasons.

None of them involved arrests.

“You, keep moving,” the redhead said to her sternly.

“Well, no need to be huffy,” Carol replied, but strode quickly away.

When she was some distance from the officers, she glanced back and watched David being handcuffed. His eyes were up, in the air, and she wondered if, whatever had landed him in hot water, he was in fact a birdwatcher and had spotted something important.

But, no, he was staring at the town house directly across Central Park West. She wondered what took the man’s attention so completely.

She noticed the nest of peregrines on a ledge. But it couldn’t be that; the birds were impressive but common.

Ah, then she saw he was lookingabovethe nest, where a dark-haired man was sitting in the window.

After a moment, the occupant smoothly backed away and vanished, as if floating.

But then, ghostly men in windows and criminal romantic partners vanished from her thoughts, as a bird—then a half dozen, then scores—zipped into view.

They were male robins, which clustered on branches to sleep, while the females and young stayed on the ground.

Hardly a rare sighting, but the gathering—eerie in its reminiscence of the Hitchcock movieThe Birds—was worth recording.

Carefully, so as not to scare them away, she lifted the camera, turned on the night-vision mode and pressed the button to add the stilling dormitory to her collection.

68.

RHYME EYED THE WATCHMAKERas Sachs led him into the parlor and seated him in one of the wicker chairs.

The tan jumpsuit the man wore was not a garment that looked natural on him, but Rhyme knew it would be a costume in today’s drama.

He looked very different from the last time they’d seen each other. The cosmetic surgeon had given him ten years, and someone—or maybe he himself—had plucked out easily half his hair.

His wrists were cuffed and on his left was a large silver-colored watch, its dark face sporting a dozen small windows.

Complications …

Sachs wanded the watch with the nitrate detector.

“Clear.”

His two phones were also clean, but—just to be safe—were sitting in the biohazard box at the moment.

Hale said, “Ron Pulaski.”

“He’s safe. Disappointed you lied, Charles.”

Was there a fraction of relief in his eyes that the young officer had survived after all? Rhyme believed so.

Sachs announced, “I’m going to walk the grid in the warehouse—as soon as Fire finishes removing the HF.” She glanced at Hale. “Might lead us in the direction of Woman X.”

Thisdefinitelybrought a reaction, a troubled frown. For an instant. Then, like mist under bright sun, it was gone.

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