The burning wire

Chapter 84

LINCOLN RHYME GLANCED up to see Pulaski in the doorway.

"Rookie, what're you doing here? I thought you were logging in evidence in Queens."

"I was. Just…" His voice slowed like a car hitting a patch of soupy fog.

"Just?"

It was close to 9 p.m., and they were alone in Rhyme's parlor. Comforting domestic sounds in the kitchen. Sachs and Thom were getting di

A failing he now told Pulaski to remedy, which the young cop did.

"That's not a double," Rhyme muttered. But Pulaski seemed not to hear. He'd walked to the window, eyes outside.

Shaping up to be a dramatic scene from a slow-moving Brit drama, Rhyme deduced, and sipped the smoky liquor through the straw.

"I've kind of made a decision. I wanted to tell you first."

"Kind of?" Rhyme chided once again.

"I mean, I have made a decision."

Rhyme raised his eyebrow. He didn't want to be too encouraging. What was coming next? he wondered, though he believed he had an idea. Rhyme's life might have been devoted to science but he'd also been in charge of hundreds of employees and cops. And despite his impatience, his gruffness, his fits of temper, he'd been a reasonable and fair boss.

As long as you didn't screw up.

"Go on, Rookie."

"I'm leaving."

"The area?"

"The force."

"Ah."

Rhyme had become aware of body language since he'd known Kathryn Dance. He sensed that Pulaski was now delivering lines he'd rehearsed. Many times.

The cop rubbed his hand through his short blond hair. "William Brent."

"Dellray's CI?"

"Right, yessir."

Rhyme thought once more about reminding the young man that he didn't need to use such deferential appellations. But he said only, "Go on, Pulaski."

His face grim, eyes turbulent, Pulaski sat down in the creaking wicker chair near Rhyme's Storm Arrow. "At Galt's place, I was spooked. I panicked. I didn't exercise good judgment. I wasn't aware enough of procedures." As if in summary, he added, "I didn't assess the situation properly and adjust my behavior accordingly."

Like a schoolboy who wasn't sure of the test answers and was rattling them off quickly, hoping one would stick.

"He's out of his coma."

"But he might've died."

"And that's why you're quitting?"

"I made a mistake. It nearly cost somebody his life… I just don't feel I can keep functioning at full capacity."

Jesus, where did he get these lines?

"It was an accident, Rookie."

"And one that shouldn't've happened."

"Are there any other kinds of accidents?"

"You know what I mean, Lincoln. It's not like I haven't thought this through."

"I can prove that you have to stay, that it'd be wrong for you to quit."

"What, say that I'm talented, I have a lot to contribute?" The cop's face was skeptical. He was young but he looked a lot older than when Rhyme had met him. Policing will do that.

So will working with me, Lincoln Rhyme reflected.

"You know why you can't quit? You'd be a hypocrite."

Pulaski blinked.

Rhyme continued, an edge to his voice. "You missed your window of opportunity."

"What's that mean?"

"Okay, you fucked up and somebody was injured badly. But then when it looked like Brent was a perp with outstanding paper, you thought you'd been given a reprieve, right?"

"Well… I guess."

"You suddenly didn't care that you'd hit him. Since he was, what, less than human?"

"No, I just-"

"Let me finish. The minute after you backed into that guy, you had a choice to make: Either you should've decided that the risk of collateral damage and accidents isn't acceptable to you and quit on the spot. Or you should've put the whole thing behind you and learned to live with what happened. It doesn't make any difference if that guy was a serial killer or a deacon at his church. And it's intellectually dishonest for you to whine about it now."

The rookie's eyes narrowed with anger and he was about to offer a defense of some sort, but Rhyme continued, "You made a mistake. You didn't commit a crime… Well, mistakes happen in this business. The problem is that when they do it's not like accounting or making shoes. When we fuck up, there's a chance somebody's going to get killed. But if we stopped and worried about that, we'd never get anything done. We'd be looking over our shoulders all the time and that would mean more people would die because we weren't doing our jobs."

"Easy for you to say," Pulaski snapped angrily.

Good for him, Rhyme thought, but kept his face solemn.

"Have you ever been in a situation like this?" Pulaski muttered.

Of course he had. Rhyme had made mistakes. Dozens, if not hundreds, of them. It was a mistake years ago, one that indeed resulted in the deaths of i

"This is eating me up."

"Well, it's time to tell it-whatever the hell it is-to stop eating. Part of being a cop is putting that wall up."

"Lincoln, you're not listening to me."

"I did listen. I considered your arguments and I rejected them. They're invalid."

"They're valid to me."

"No, they're not. And I'll tell you why." Rhyme hesitated. "Because they're not valid to me… and you and I are a lot alike, Pulaski. I myself hate to goddamn admit it, but it's true."

This brought the young man up short.

"Now, forget all this crap you've been boring me with. I'm glad you're here because I need you to do some follow-up work. At the-"

Pulaski stared at the criminalist and gave a cold laugh. "I'm not doing anything. I'm quitting. I'm not listening to you."

"Well, you're not going to quit now. You can do it in a few days. I need you. The case-your case as much as mine-isn't over with yet. We have to make absolutely sure Logan's convicted. You agree?"

A sigh. "I agree."

"Before McDaniel got removed from command and sent to the cloud zone, or wherever he went, he had his men search Bob Cavanaugh's office. He didn't call us to do it. The Bureau's Evidence Response Team is good-I helped set it up. But we should've walked the grid too. I want you to do that now. Logan was saying there's a cartel involved and I want to make sure every one of them gets nailed."

A resigned grimace. "I'll do it. But that's my last assignment." Shaking his head, the young man stormed from the room.

Lincoln Rhyme struggled to keep the smile from his face as he sought the straw sprouting from his tumbler of whisky.