The Burning Wire

somebody’d recognized him in the building. He wanted to finish up and get out. And he was probably monitoring Algonquin’s electrical transmissions and knew the company wasn’t going to shut down the juice by the deadline.”
    Susan continued, “He was wearing gloves. Tan gloves. They were leather. . . . Those were at eye level. And I remember them because I was thinking his hands must be sweating. It was hot in the car.”
    “Did the uniform have any writing on it?”
    “No.”
    “Anything else?”
    She shrugged. “Not that it’s helpful, but he was rude.”
    “Rude?”
    “When he got on the elevator he pushed past me. Didn’t apologize or anything.”
    “He actually touched you?”
    “Not me.” She nodded down. “The chair. It was kind of a tight squeeze.”
    “Mel!”
    The tech’s head swiveled toward them.
    “Susan,” Rhyme asked. “Do you mind if we examine that spot on your chair?”
    “No, not at all.”
    Cooper carefully looked over the side of the chair she indicated, using a magnifying glass. Rhyme couldn’t see exactly what he found but the tech lifted away two items from bolts at joints in the upright pieces.
    “What?”
    “Fibers. One dark green and one brown.” Cooper was examining them through the microscope, then turned to a computer database of similar fiber. “Cotton, heavy duty. Could be military, army surplus.”
    “Enough to test?”
    “Plenty.” The tech and Sachs ran a portion of each of the samples through the gas chromatograph/mass spectrometer.
    Finally, as Rhyme waited impatiently, she called, “Got the results.” A printout eased from the machine and Cooper looked it over.
    “More aviation fuel on the green fiber. But something else. On the brown fiber there’s diesel fuel. And more of those Chinese herbs.”
    “Diesel.” Rhyme was considering this. “Maybe it’s not an airport. Maybe it’s a refinery he’s after.”
    Cooper said, “That’d be one hell of a target, Lincoln.”
    It sure would. “Sachs, call Gary Nobel. Tell him to step up security in the ports. Refineries and tankers especially.”
    She grabbed the phone.
    “Mel, add everything we’ve got so far to the chart.”
    CRIME SCENE: OFFICE BUILDING
AT 235 W. 54TH STREET
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    —Victims (deceased):
    —Larry Fishbein, New York City, accountant.
    —Robert Bodine, New York City, attorney.
    —Franklin Tucker, Paramus, New Jersey, salesman.
    —One friction ridge of Raymond Galt.
    —Bennington cable and split bolts, same as at other scenes.
    —Two handmade remote relay switches:
    —One to shut off power to elevator.
    —One to complete circuit and electrify elevator car.
    —Bolts and smaller wires connecting panel to elevator, not traceable.
    —Victims had water on shoes.
    —Trace:
    —Chinese herbs, ginseng and wolfberry.
    —Hairspring (planning on using timer, rather than remote for future attacks?).
    —Dark green cotton heavy-duty clothing fiber.
    —Containing trace of alternative jet fuel.
    —Attack on military base?
    —Dark brown cotton heavy-duty clothing fiber.
    —Containing trace of diesel fuel.
    —Containing additional Chinese herbs.
    PROFILE
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    —Identified as Raymond Galt, 40, single, living in Manhattan, 227 Suffolk St.
    —Terrorist connection? Relation to Justice For the Earth? Suspected ecoterror group. No profile in any U.S. or international database. New? Underground? Individual named Rahman involved. Also Johnston. Coded references to monetary disbursements, personnel movements and something “big.”
    —Algonquin security breach in Philadelphia might be related.
    —SIGINT hits: code word reference to weapons, “paper and supplies” (guns, explosives?).
    —Personnel include man and woman.
    —Galt’s relationship unknown.
    —Cancer patient; presence of vinblastine and prednisone in significant quantities, traces of etoposide. Leukemia.
    —Galt is armed with military 1911 Colt .45.
    —Masquerading as maintenance man in dark brown overalls. Dark green, as well?
    —Wearing tan leather gloves.
    Cooper organized the evidence, and marked chain of custody cards, while Sachs was on the phone with Homeland Security about the risk to the ports in New York and New Jersey.
    Rhyme and Susan Stringer found themselves alone. As he stared at the chart he was aware that the woman was looking him over closely. Uneasy, he turned toward her, trying to figure out how to get her to leave. She’d come, she’d helped, she’d met the celebrity crip. Time to get