The Cold Moon

This was a neighborhood of modest houses in small yards, presently filled with Christmas decorations. The minuscule size of the lots had no effect on the owners' ability to populate the land with as many Santas, reindeer and elves as possible.

Sachs was walking down the sidewalk slowly at the head of the takedown team. She was on the radio with Rhyme. "We're here," she said softly.

"What's the story?"

"We've cleared the houses on either side and behind. There's nobody opposite." A community vegetable garden was across the street. A ragged scarecrow sat in the middle of the tiny lot. Across his chest was a swirl of graffiti.

"Pretty good site for a takedown. We're-hold on, Rhyme." A light had gone on in one of the front rooms. The cops around her stopped and crouched. She whispered, "He's still here… I'm signing off."

"Go get him, Sachs." She heard an unusual determination in his voice. She knew he was upset that the man had escaped. Saving the people at the HUD building and capturing Charlotte were fine. But Rhyme wasn't happy unless all the perps ended up in cuffs.

But he wasn't as determined as Amelia Sachs. She wanted to give Rhyme the Watchmaker-as a present to mark their last case together.

She changed radio frequencies and said into her stalk mike, "Detective Five Eight Eight Five to ESU One."

Bo Hauma

"He's here. Just saw a light go on in the front room."

"Roger, B Team, you copy?"

These were the officers behind the bungalow. "B Team leader to ESU One. Roger that. We're-hold on. Okay, he's upstairs now. Just saw the light go on up there. Looks like the back bedroom."

"Don't assume he's alone," Sachs said. "There could be somebody else from Charlotte's outfit with him. Or he might've picked up another partner."

"Roger that, Detective," Hauma

The Search and Surveillance teams were just getting into position on the roof of the apartment building behind and in the garden across the street from the Watchmaker's safe house, on which they were training their instruments.

"S and S One to ESU One. All the shades're drawn. Can't get a look at all. We've got heat in the back of the house. But he's not walking around. There's a light on in the attic but we can't see in-no windows, just louvers, K."

"Same here-S and S Two. No visual. Heat upstairs, nothing on the ground floor. Heard a click or two a second ago, K."

"Weapon?"

"Could be. Or maybe just appliances or the furnace, K."

The ESU officer next to Sachs deployed his officers with hand signals. He, Sachs and two others clustered at the front door, another team of four right behind them. One held the battering ram. The other three covered the windows on the ground and the second floors.

"B Team to One. We're in position. Got a ladder next to the lit room in the back, K."

"A Team, in position," another ESU officer radioed in a whisper.

"We're no-knock," Hauma

"B Team, copy."

"A, copy."

Despite the freezing air Sachs's palms were sweating inside the tight Nomex gloves. She pulled the right one away and blew into it. Did the same with the left. Then she cinched up the body armor and unsnapped the cover of her spare ammo clip carrier. The other officers had machine guns but Sachs never went for that. She preferred the elegance of a single well-placed round to a spray of lead.

Sachs and the three officers on the primary entry team nodded at one another.

Hauma

The sound of breaking glass filled the crisp air as officers flung the grenades through the windows.

Hauma

The sharp crack of the flashbangs shook the windows and bursts of white light filled the house momentarily. The burly officer with the battering ram slammed it into the front door. It crashed open without resistance and in a few seconds the officers were spreading out in the sparsely furnished house.

Flashlight in one hand, gun in the other, Sachs stayed with her team as they worked their way up the stairs.

She began hearing the voices of the other officers calling in as they cleared the basement and the rooms on the ground floor.

One upstairs bedroom was empty, the second, as well.

Then all the rooms were declared clear.

"Where the hell is he?" Sachs muttered.

"Always an adventure, huh?" somebody asked.

"Invisible fucking perp," came another voice.

Then in her earpiece she heard: "S and S One. Light in the attic just went out. He's up there."

In the small bedroom toward the back they found a trapdoor in the ceiling, a thick string hanging from it. A pull-down stair. An officer shut out the light in this room so it would be harder to target them. They stood back and pointed their guns at the door as Sachs gripped the string and pulled hard. It creaked downward, revealing a folding ladder.

The team leader shouted, "You, in the attic. Come down now… Do you hear me? This is your last chance."

Nothing.

He said, "Flashbang."

An officer pulled one off his belt and nodded.

The team leader put his hand on the ladder but Sachs shook her head. "I'll take him."

"Are you sure you want to?"

Sachs nodded. "Only, let me borrow a helmet."

She took one and strapped it on.

"We're set, Detective."

"Let's do it." Sachs climbed up near the top-then took the flashbang. She pulled the pin and closed her eyes so the flash from the grenade wouldn't blind her and also to acclimate her eyes to the darkness of the attic.

Okay, here we go.

She pitched the grenade into the attic and lowered her head.

Three seconds later it detonated and Sachs, opening her eyes, charged the rest of the way up the ladder into the small area, filled with a haze of smoke and the smell of explosive residue from the flashbang. She rolled away from the opening, clicking on her flashlight and sweeping it in a circle as she moved to a post, the only cover she could find.

Nothing to the right, nothing center, nothing-

It was then that she fell off the face of the earth.

The floor wasn't wood at all, like it seemed, but cardboard over insulating crud. Her right leg crashed through the Sheetrock of the bedroom ceiling, gripping her, immobile. She cried out in pain.

"Detective!" somebody called.

Sachs lifted the light and the gun in the only direction she could see-straight in front of her. The killer wasn't there.

Which meant he was behind her.

It was at that moment that the overhead light clicked on, almost directly above her, making her a perfect target.

She struggled to turn around, awaiting the sharp crack of a gun, the numb slam of the bullet into her head or neck or back.

Sachs thought of her father.

She thought of Lincoln Rhyme.

You and me, Sachs…

Then she decided no way was she going out without getting a piece of him. She took the pistol in her teeth and used both hands to wrench herself around and find a target.

She heard boots on the ladder as an ESU officer charged up to help her. Of course, that'swhat the Watchmaker was waiting for-a chance to kill more of the officers. He was using her as bait to draw other cops to their deaths and hoped to escape in the chaos.

"Look out!" she called, gripping her pistol in her hand. "He's-"

"Where is he?" the A Team leader asked. The man was crouching at the top of the stairs. He hadn't heard her-or hadn't listened-and had sped up the ladder, followed by two other officers. They were sca