Wssst . . .
Another tune came into his head. Thompson Boyd exhaled the notes softly, getting a soft trill. He noticed he'd moved his .22 out of reach. That wasn't doing things by the book . . . . He pulled the pistol closer then returned to the instruction booklet again, sticking more Post-it notes onto pages, glancing into the shopping bag to make sure he had everything he needed. He thought that he had the technique down. But, as always when he approached something new, he was going to learn everything cold before executing the job.
*
"Nothing, Rhyme," Sachs said into the microphone dangling near her ample lips.
That his prior good mood had vanished like steam was evident when he snapped, "Nothing?"
"Nobody's seen him."
"Where are you?"
"We've covered basically all of Little Italy. Lon and I're at the south end. Canal Street."
"Hell," Rhyme muttered.
"We could . . . " Sachs stopped speaking. "What's that?"
"What?" Rhyme asked.
"Hold on a minute." To Sellitto she said, "Come on."
Displaying her badge she forced her way through four lanes of thick, attitudinal traffic. She looked around then started south on Elizabeth Street, a dark canyon of tenements, retail shops and warehouses. She stopped again. "Smell that?"
Rhyme asked caustically, "Smell?"
"I'm asking Lon."
"Yeah," the big detective said. "What is that? Something, you know, sweet."
Sachs pointed to a wholesale herbal products, soap and incense company, two doors south of Canal on Elizabeth Street. A strong flowery scent wafted from the open doors. It was jasmine--the aroma that they'd detected on the rape pack and that Geneva herself had smelled at the museum.
"We might have a lead, Rhyme. I'll call you back."
*
"Yeah, yeah," the slim Chinese man in the herbal wholesaler said, gazing at the EFIT composite picture of Unsub 109. "I see him some. Upstair. He not there a lot. What he do?"
"Is he up there now?"
"Don't know. Don't know. Think I saw him today. What he do?"
"Which apartment?"
The man shrugged.
The herbal import company took up the first floor, but at the end of the dim entryway, past a security door, were steep stairs leading up into darkness. Sellitto pulled out his radio and called in on the operations frequency. "We've got him."
"Who's this?" Haumann snapped.
"Oh, sorry. It's Sellitto. We're two buildings south of Canal on Elizabeth. We've got a positive ID on the tenant. Might be in the building now."
"ESU Command, all units. You copy, K?"
Affirmative responses filled the airwaves.
Sachs identified herself and transmitted, "Make it a silent roll-up and stay off Elizabeth. He can see the street from the window in the front."