The Skin Collector

One group would be particularly hard hit: children. Infant botulism poisoning occurred with some frequency (often children younger than twelve months who’d eaten honey in which spores naturally resided). Billy had considered their deaths and he didn’t feel troubled by them. This was a war, after all. Sacrifices had to be made.

The city would react quickly, of course, with the Health Department and Homeland Security racing to find the source of the illness. There’d be some delay as officials thought chemical nerve agents – the symptoms are similar – and with some luck medical workers would start injecting atropine and pralidoxime, which actually increase botulism’s lethal strength. Some would diagnose myasthenia gravis. But then would come the serum and stool tests and finally mass spectrometry would confirm what the disease truly was.

By then, of course, the damage would be done.

A secondary consequence, which would cause even more extensive, if less lethal, damage was also predicted by the Modification: The city would soon find the source of the toxin but wouldn’t know how far flung the poisoning was. Was the Bronx in danger next? New Jersey or Co

The only thing the authorities could do – the utterly incompetent city, state and federal governments – was shut down the entire water system. New York City, not a drop to drink, not a drop to carry away sewage. Or clean. Or generate electricity (most of the city’s power came from electric generator plants whose turbines used steam). The East River and the Hudson would become a Ganges, a source of bathing, waste and drinking water … and disease.

A plague, not a flood, would destroy the city.

But the plan’s success depended on the one remaining key factor: closing the Midtown valve to allow Billy to inject the poison. If that didn’t happen, the Modification would fail. The upstream reservoirs and aqueducts – easily accessible – were monitored in real time for any kind of toxins; the plan required that the poison had to be introduced into the supply here, south of Central Park, where it was theoretically impossible to taint the system and was therefore not guarded.

Billy now checked his location. Yes. He was close to the best spot to drill into the pipe.

But he needed confirmation that the water supply had been shut down.

Come on, he thought, come on …

Impatient.

Timing was everything.

Finally his phone hummed with a message. He looked down. Aunt Harriet. She’d sent him a link. He tapped the screen and turned the phone sideways to read the article. The story was time stamped one minute ago.

TERROR ALERT IN NEW YORK

Water Supply Targeted

By Unknown Bombers

Officials in New York City are shutting down the largest mains supplying water to Manhattan south of Central Park and much of Queens, to prevent the risk of flooding, in response to an apparent terrorist plot.

Spokespersons for the New York City Police Department, the Department of Homeland Security and the FBI reported in a joint press conference that they have uncovered a plot to detonate improvised explosive devices underground, meant to destroy portions of the water system.

Bomb Squad officers have discovered the locations of three devices and are evacuating people in the immediate vicinity around the IEDs. They are about to begin dismantling the bombs, a process called ‘rendering safe.’

It is anticipated that the water supply will be shut off for no more than two hours. Officials are telling residents that there’s no need to stockpile water.

Good. Time to finish up and say goodbye to New York City.

CHAPTER 64

Amelia Sachs was pounding her Ford Torino toward Midtown.

She’d blown seven red lights after leaving Rhyme’s. Only one slowed her down. The angry horn blasts and stabbing fingers were not even memories.

Times Square was around her, the huge planes of high def video billboards, the preoccupied locals and the marveling tourists, the timely Thanksgiving decorations and the premature Christmas ones, the bundled up vendors, rocking from foot to foot to jump start the circulation.

Bustling i

She sped east to Lexington Avenue, then skidded to a stop as blue smoke from the tires wafted around her. It was here that she’d been instructed to pause and await further instructions.

Her phone rang and a moment later Pulaski’s voice was pumping through her earbud. ‘Amelia. I’ve got DEP on the other line. They’re checking … Hold on. The tech’s back.’ She heard some mumbling as he turned away from the speaker to a second phone. Then his voice rose. ‘The hell does that mean, “The sensors aren’t that accurate”? What does that even mean ? And anyway it’s not my problem about the sensors. I want the location. Now!’

She laughed. Young Ron Pulaski had come into his own under Rhyme’s tutelage. A moment later he was back with her. ‘I don’t know what the problem is, Amelia. They’re– Wait. I’m getting something now.’ The voice faded again. ‘Okay, okay.’

Looking around the streets. I

And under their feet, somewhere, one of the worst terror attacks in New York City history was being carried out.

But where?

‘Okay, Amelia, DEP has something for us. They’ve cross referenced flow rates – I don’t know. Anyway, I have a location. An access room a quarter mile south of the Tu

‘I’m close.’

She was already popping the clutch and skidding away from the parking space in the same way she’d arrived, though this time leaving the blue smoke behind her. She cut off a bus and a Lexus. They might have collided, avoiding her. She kept right on moving, headed south. Insurance issue, not her issue.

‘I’ll be there in one minute.’ Then corrected: ‘Okay, two.’ Because she was forced up onto the sidewalk again and braked to nudge a falafel cart out of the way.

‘Fuck you, lady.’

U

Back on the street with a grind of metal versus curb. Then she was speeding on once again.

After Lincoln Rhyme had concluded that the unsub and his domestic terror group were pla

‘What?’ Sachs had asked, noting his eyes straying out the window, his brow furrowed.

‘Something doesn’t feel right about this whole thing.’ He zoned in on her. ‘Yes, yes, I detest the word “feel”. Don’t look so shocked. The conclusion’s based on evidence, on facts.’

‘Go on.’

He’d considered further, in silence, and then said, ‘The battery bombs are packed with gunpowder. You know guns, Sachs, you know ammunition. You think that’d blow up iron pipes the size of the water mains?’

She’d thought about this. ‘True. If they’d really wanted to rupture the pipes they’d use shaped charges. Armor piercing. Of course they would.’

‘Exactly. He wanted  us to find the bombs. And – with the Bible verses – wanted us to believe the target was the water mains. Why?’

They’d answered nearly simultaneously. ‘To shut down the supply.’

Shutting off the water flow by closing the main valves would be only temporarily disruptive.

‘Who cares? That couldn’t be the motive,’ Rhyme had said.

Then he’d offered: But what would  make sense was to trick the city into shutting off the supply to lower the pressure. Which would allow their unsub to drill into the pipe and introduce a poison into the line. He’d then plug the hole; Rhyme had reminded the team about the welding material evidence found at the Chloe Moore crime scene.