"Who else is involved in the shakedowns at the One One Eight, other than Baker?"

Duncan shook his head regretfully. "I wish I could tell you. I want them put away as much as Baker. I tried to find out. He wouldn't talk about his scheme. But I got the impression there's somebody involved other than the officers from the precinct."

"Somebody else?"

"That's right. High up."

"From Maryland or with a place there?" Sachs asked.

"I never heard him mention that. He trusted me but only up to a point. I don't think he was worried about my turning him in; it seemed like he was afraid I'd get greedy and go after the money myself. It sounded like there was a lot of it."

A dark-colored city car pulled up to the police tape and a slim, balding man in a thin overcoat climbed out. He joined Rhyme and the others. He was a senior assistant district attorney. Rhyme had testified at several of the trials the man had prosecuted. The criminalist nodded a greeting and Sellitto explained the latest developments.

The prosecutor listened to the bizarre turn the case had taken. Most of the perps he put away were stupid Tony Soprano sorts or even more stupid crackheads and punks. He seemed amused to find himself with a brilliant criminal-whose crimes, as it turned out, were not nearly as serious as it seemed. What excited him far more than a serial killer was the career-making prosecution of a deadly corruption scam in the police department.

"Any of this going through IAD?" he asked Sachs.

"No. I've been running it myself."

"Who cleared that?"

"Flaherty."

"The inspector? Running Op Div?"

"Right."

He began asking questions and jotting notes. After doing so, in precise handwriting, for five minutes he paused. "Okay, we've got B and E, criminal trespass…but no burglary."

Burglary is breaking and entering for the purpose of committing a felony, like larceny or murder. Duncan had no purpose other than trespassing.

The prosecutor continued. "Theft of human remains-"

"Borrowing. I never intended to keep the corpse," Duncan reminded him.

"Well, it's up to Westchester to decide that one. But here we've also got obstruction of justice, interference with police procedures-"

Duncan frowned. "Though you could say that since there were no murders in the first place, the police procedures weren't necessary, so interference with them is moot."

Rhyme chuckled.

The assistant district attorney, however, ignored the comment. "Possession of a firearm-"

"Barrel was plugged," Duncan countered. "It was inoperable."

"What about the stolen motor vehicles? Where'd they come from?"

Duncan explained about Baker's theft from the police impound lot in Queens. He nodded to the pile of his personal effects, which included a set of car keys. "The Buick's parked up the street. On Thirty-first. Baker got it from the same place as the SUV."

"How'd you take delivery of the cars? Anybody else involved?"

"Baker and I went together to pick them up. They were parked in a restaurant lot. Baker knew some of the people there, he said."

"You get their names?"

"No."

"What was the restaurant?"

"Some Greek diner. I don't remember the name. We took the four-ninety-five to get out there. I don't remember the exit but we were only on the freeway for about ten minutes after we got out of the Midtown Tunnel and turned left at the exit."

"North," Sellitto said. "We'll have somebody check it out. Maybe Baker's been dealing in confiscated wheels too."

The prosecutor shook his head. "I hope you understand the consequences of this. Not just the crimes-you'll have civil fines for the diversion of emergency vehicles and city employees. I'm talking tens, hundreds of thousands of dollars."

"I have no problem with that. I checked the laws and sentencing guidelines before I started this. I decided the risk of a prison sentence was worth exposing Baker. But I wouldn't have done this if there was any chance somebody innocent would get hurt."

"You still put people at risk," Sellitto muttered. "Pulaski was attacked in the parking garage where you left the SUV. He could've been killed."

Duncan laughed. "No, no, I'mthe one who saved him. After we abandoned the Explorer and were running out of the garage I spotted that homeless guy. I didn't like the looks of him. He had a club or tire iron or something in his hand. After Vincent and I split up, I went back to the garage to make sure he didn't hurt anybody. When he started toward you"-Duncan glanced at Pulaski-"I found a wheel cover in the trash and pitched it into the wall so you'd turn around and see him coming."

The rookie nodded. "That's what happened. I thought the guy stumbled and made the noise himself. But whatever, I was ready for him when he came at me. And there was a wheel cover nearby."

"And Vincent?" Duncan continued. "I made sure he never got close enough to any women to hurt them. I'mthe one who turned him in. I called nine-one-one and reported him. I can prove it." He gave details about where and when the rapist was caught-which confirmed that he'd been the one who called the police.

The prosecutor looked like he needed a time-out. He glanced at his notes, then at Duncan, and rubbed his shiny head. His ears were bright red from the cold. "I've gotta talk to the district attorney about this one." He turned to two detectives from Police Plaza who'd met him here. The prosecutor nodded at Duncan and said, "Take him downtown. And keep somebody on him close-remember, he's diming out crooked cops. People could be gunning for him."

Duncan was helped to his feet.

Amelia Sachs asked, "Why didn't you just come to us and tell us what happened? Or make a tape of Baker admitting what he'd done? You could've avoided this whole charade."

Duncan gave a harsh laugh. "And who could I trust? Who could I send a tape to? How did I know who was honest and who was working with Baker?…It's a fact of life, you know."

"What's that?"

"Corrupt cops."

Rhyme noticed Sachs gave absolutely no reaction to this comment, as two uniformed officers led their perp, such as he was, to a squad car.

They were, at least temporarily, once again a team.

You and me, Sachs…

Lincoln Rhyme's case had become Amelia Sachs's and if the Watchmaker had turned out to be toothless there was still a lot of work left to do. The corruption scandal at the 118th house was now "front-burnered," as Sellitto said (prompting Rhyme's sardonic comment, "Now there's a verb you don't hear every day"). Benjamin Creeley's and Frank Sarkowski's killer or killers had yet to be identified specifically from among the cops who were suspected of complicity. And the case against Baker had to be cobbled together and the Maryland connection-and the extortion money-unearthed.

Kathryn Dance volunteered to interview Baker but he was refusing to say a word so the team had to rely on traditional crime scene and investigative work.

On Rhyme's instruction, Pulaski was cross-referencing Baker's phone calls and poring over his records and Palm Pilot, trying to find out whom he spent the most time with at the 118th and elsewhere but wasn't coming up with anything helpful. Mel Cooper and Sachs were analyzing evidence from Baker's car, house on Long Island and office at One Police Plaza, as well as the houses or apartments of several girlfriends he'd been dating recently (none of whom knew about the others, it turned out). Sachs had searched with her typical diligence and had returned to Rhyme's with cartons of clothes, tools, checkbooks, documents, photos, weapons and trace from his tire treads.

After an hour of looking over all of this, Cooper announced, "Ah. Got something."