The Skin Collector(Lincoln Rhyme)

Chapter 58





Typically – and irritatingly – Rodney Szarnek was listening to some god-awful rock when he picked up the call from Rhyme’s parlor.

‘Rodney, you’re on speaker. It’s … Can we lose the music?’

If you could call that head-banging crap music.

‘Hey, Lincoln. That’s you, right?’

Rhyme turned to Sachs and rolled his eyes.

The cyber detective was probably half deaf.

‘Rodney, we have a situation.’

‘Yup. Go on.’

Rhyme explained about the bombs and where they’d been set – near key International Fiber Optic Networks routers and under the company’s headquarters.

‘Man, that’s tough, Lincoln.’

‘I have no idea what the detonator timing situation is. It’s possible we can’t render-safe before one or maybe all of them go off.’

‘Are you evacuating?’

‘Under way right now. They’re gunpowder bombs, not plastic explosives – that we know – so we don’t think there’s a risk of major casualties. But the infrastructure damage could be significant.’

‘Oh.’

The detective didn’t sound concerned. Was he checking his iPod for a new song list?

‘How can I help?’ he finally asked, as if his sole purpose was to fill the growing silence.

‘Whom should we call, what precautions should we take?’

‘For what?’ the computer cop asked.

Jesus Christ. What was the disconnect? ‘Rodney. If. The. Bombs. Go. Off. The Internet – what precautions should we take?’

More silence. ‘You’re asking if bombs take out a couple of the fiber-optic routers.’

A sigh from Rhyme. ‘Yes, Rodney. That’s what I’m asking. And the IFON headquarters.’


‘There’s nothing to do.’

‘But what about security services, hospitals, Wall Street, air traffic control, alarms? It’s the Internet, for God’s sake. Some cable company’s hired industrial saboteurs to blow it up.’

‘Oh, I get it.’ He sounded amused. ‘You’re thinking like some Bruce Willis movie thing? The stock markets crash, somebody sticks up a bank because the alarms are off, kidnaps the mayor, since the web’s out?’

‘Well, along those lines, yes.’

‘Look, the cable syndicate versus the fiber-optic outfit? That’s way old news. Used chewing gum.’

I don’t need two f*cking clichés in a row. Get to the point. Rhyme fumed, but silently.

‘They don’t like each other, IFON and the traditional cable providers. But nobody’s going to sabotage anything. In fact, in six months International Fiber Optic will’ve bought out or signed licensing agreements with the other cable companies.’

‘You don’t think they’d try to blow up IFON routers?’

‘Naw. Even if they did, or anybody did, you’d have a five-, ten-minute interruption in service in isolated parts of the city. Believe me, Chinese and Bulgarian hackers cause more problems than that every day.’

Sachs asked, ‘You’re sure that’s all that would happen?’

‘Hey, hi, Amelia. Okay, maybe twenty minutes. ISPs’ve thought of this before, you know. There’s so much redundancy in the system, we call it dedundant.’

Rhyme was irritated both at the bad joke and that his theory was in the toilet.

‘At the very worst, signals’d be rerouted to backup servers in Jersey, Queens and Connecticut. Oh, traffic’d be slower. You couldn’t stream porn or play World of Warcraft without the signals’ breaking up but basic services’d keep running. I’ll call the providers and Homeland Security, though, and give them a heads-up.’

‘Thanks, Rodney,’ Sachs said.

The music rose in volume and the line went to blessed silence.

Rhyme parked in front of the evidence boards and photos. He had another thought, discouraging. He snapped, ‘Sloppy thinking – speculating that Samantha Levine, from IFON, was the target. How would the unsub know she’d go to the bathroom at just that time, and be waiting for her? Careless. Stupid.’

The idea of the syndicate of traditional cable Internet providers taking down the fiber-optic interloper had seemed good – sheep ranchers versus cattle barons. Like most conspiracy theories, it was sexy but ultimately junk.

His eyes strayed to the tattoos.



Rhyme read them out loud.

Pulaski, next to him, leaned forward. ‘And those wavy lines.’

‘Scallops,’ Rhyme corrected.

‘I don’t know what a scallop is except a seafood thing that tastes pretty bland unless you put sauce on it.’

‘The shell that seafood thing comes in is shaped like that,’ Rhyme murmured.

‘Oh. To me they just looked like waves.’

Rhyme frowned. Then he whispered, ‘And waves that TT Gordon said were significant – because of the scarification.’ After a moment: ‘I was wrong. It’s not a location he’s giving us. Goddamn!’ Rhyme spat out. Then he blinked and laughed.

‘What?’ Sachs asked.

‘I just made a very bad joke. When I said, “Goddamn.”’

‘How do you mean, Lincoln?’ Cooper wondered aloud.

He ignored the question, calling, ‘Bible! I need a Bible.’

‘Well, we don’t have one here, Lincoln,’ Thom said.

‘Online. Find me a Bible online. You’re on to something, rookie.’

‘I am?’