She stepped away and handed Sachs back the earring she'd just plucked from the policewoman's left ear.

"I never felt a thing."

"But the audience'd know instantly how I did it – because touching someone while you're pretending to read minds, which most people don't believe in anyway, isn't natural. But if I say part of a trick is for me to whisper a word so that nobody else can hear." She leaned closer to Sachs's ear, with her right hand over her own mouth. "See, that's a natural gesture."

"You missed the other earring," Sachs said, laughing; she'd lifted a protective hand to her ear when Kara had stepped close.

"But I vanished your necklace. It's gone."

Even Rhyme couldn't help but be impressed – and amused, watching Sachs touch her neck and chest, smiling but troubled to keep losing accessories. Sellitto laughed like a little kid and Mel Cooper gave up on the evidence to watch the show. The policewoman looked around her for the jewelry and then at Kara, who offered her empty right hand. "Vanished," she repeated.

"But," Rhyme said suspiciously, "I do notice that your left hand's in a fist behind your back. Which is, by the way, a rather unnatural gesture. So I assume the necklace is there."

"Ah, you're good," Kara said. Then laughed. "But not at catching moves, I'm afraid." She opened her left hand and it too was empty.

Rhyme scowled.

"Keeping my left fist closed and out of sight? Well, that was the most important misdirection of all. I did that because I knew you'd spot it and it would focus your attention on my left hand. We call it 'forcing.' I forced you to think you'd figured out my method. And as soon as you did that your mind snapped shut and you stopped considering any other explanations for what had happened. And when you – and everybody else – were staring at my left hand that gave me the chance to slip the necklace into Amelia's pocket."

Sachs reached inside and pulled the chain out.

Cooper applauded. Rhyme gave a grudging but impressed grunt.

Kara nodded toward the evidence board. "So, that's what he's going to do, this killer. Misdirection. You'll think you've figured out what he's up to but that's part of his plan. Just like I did, he'll use your suspicions – and your intelligence – against you. In fact, he needs your suspicions and intelligence for his tricks to work. Mr. Balzac says that the best illusionists'll rig the trick so well that they'll point directly at their method, directly at what they're really going to do. But you won't believe them. You'll look in the opposite direction. When that happens, you've had it. You've lost and they've won." The reference to her mentor seemed to upset her and she glanced at the clock and offered a faint grimace. "I really have to get back now. I've been away too long."

Sachs thanked her, and Sellitto said, "I'll get a car to take you back to the store."

"Well, near the store. I don't want him to know where I've been… Oh, one thing you might want to do? There's a circus in town. The Cirque Fantastique. I know they have a quick-change act. You might want to check it out."

Sachs nodded. "They're setting up right across the street in Central Park."

The park was often the site for large-scale outdoor concerts and other shows during the spring and summer. Rhyme and Sachs had once "attended" a Paul Simon concert by sitting in front of the criminalist's open bedroom windows.

Rhyme scoffed. "Oh, that's who was rehearsing that god-awful music all night."

"You don't like the circus?" Sellitto asked.

"Of course I don't like the circus," he snapped. "Who does? Bad food, clowns, acrobats threatening to die in front of your children… But" – he turned to Kara – "it's a good suggestion. Thanks… Even though one of us should've thought of it before," he said caustically, looking over the others on the team.

Rhyme watched her sling an ugly black-and-white purse over her shoulder.

Escaping from him, fleeing into the crip-free world, taking the Look and the Smile with her.

Don't worry. You can give the gimp your insights then get the hell out.

She paused and looked at the evidence board once more with a cloud in her striking blue eyes then started for the door.

"Wait," Rhyme said.

She turned.

"I'd like you to stay."

"What?"

"Work with us on the case. At least for today. You could go with Lon or Amelia to talk to the people at the circus. And there might be more magic evidence we uncover."

"Oh, no. I can't really. It was hard for me to get away now. I can't spend any more time."

Rhyme said, "We could use your help. We've just scratched the surface with this guy."

"You saw Mr. Balzac," she said to Sachs.

In nomine patri…

"You know, Linc," Sellitto said uneasily, "better not to have too many civilians on a case. There are regs on that."

"Didn't you use a psychic one time?" Rhyme asked dryly.

"I didn't fucking hire her. Somebody at HQ did."

"And then you had the dog tracker and – "

"You keep saying 'you.' No, I don't hire civilians. Except you. Which gets me into enough shit."

"Ah, you can never get into enough shit in police work, Lon." He glanced at Kara. "Please. It's very important."

The young woman hesitated. "You really think he's going to kill someone else?"

"Yes," he replied, "we do."

The girl finally nodded. "If I'm going to get fired, at least it'll be for a good cause." Then she laughed. "You know, Robert-Houdin did the same thing."

"Who's that?"

"A famous French illusionist and magician. He helped out the police too, well, the French army. Sometime, I don't know, in the 1800s, there were these Algerian extremists, the Marabouts. They were trying to get local tribes to rise up against the French and they kept saying they had magic powers. The French government sent him to Algeria to have a sort of magical duel. To show the tribes that the French had better magic – you know, more power. It worked. Robert-Houdin had tighter tricks than the Marabouts." Then she frowned. "Though I think they almost killed him."

"Don't worry," Sachs reassured her. "I'll make sure that doesn't happen to you."

Then Kara looked over the evidence chart. "You do this in all your cases? Write down all the clues and things you've learned?"

"That's right," Sachs confirmed.

"Here's an idea – most magicians specialize. Like the Conjurer doing both quick-change and large-scale illusion? That's unusual. Let's write down his techniques. That might help narrow down the number of suspects."

"Yeah," Sellitto said, "a profile. Good."

The young woman grimaced. "And I'll have to find somebody to replace me at the shop. Mr. Balzac was going to be out of the store with that friend of his… Oh, man, he's not going to like this." She looked around the room. "There a phone I can use? You know, one of those special ones?"

"Special one?" Thom asked.

"Yeah, in private. So there's nobody around to hear you lie to your boss."

"Oh, those phones," the aide said, putting his arm around her shoulders and directing her toward the doorway. "The one I use for that's in the hall."

THE CONJURER

Music School Crime Scene

Perp's description: Brown hair, fake beard, no distinguishing, medium build, medium height, age: fifties. Ring and little fingers of left hand fused together. Changed costume quickly to resemble old, bald janitor.

• No apparent motive.

• Victim: Svetlana Rasnikov.

• Full-time music student.

• Checking family, friends, students, coworkers for possible leads.

• No boyfriends, no known enemies. Performed at children's birthday parties.

• Circuit board with speaker attached.

• Sent to FBI lab, NYC.

• Digital recorder, probably containing perp's voice. All data destroyed.