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"And the name Richard Logan?" Rhyme asked.

"Wasn't his, apparently. A complete alias. He stole somebody's identity. It's surprisingly easy to do, apparently."

"So I've heard," Rhyme said bitterly.

Longhurst continued, "One rather odd thing, though, Detective. That bag that was to be delivered in the shooting zone by the Tottenham chap? Inside was--"

"--a package addressed to me."

"Why, yes."

"Was it a watch or clock, by any chance?" Rhyme asked.

Longhurst barked an incredulous laugh. "A rather posh table clock, Victorian. How on earth did you possibly know?"

"Just a hunch."

"Our explosives people checked it. It's quite safe."

"No, it wouldn't be an IED. . . . Inspector, please seal it in plastic and ship it over here overnight. And I'd like to see your case report when it's finished."

"Of course."

"And my partner--"

"Detective Sachs."

"That's right. She'll want to video interview everybody involved."

"I'll put together a dramatis personae."

Despite his anger and dismay, Rhyme had to smile at the expression. He loved the Brits.

"It's been a privilege to work with you, Detective."

"And with you too, Inspector." He disconnected, sighed.

A Victorian clock.

Rhyme looked at the mantelpiece, on which was displayed a Breguet pocket watch, old and quite valuable, a gift from the very same killer. The watch had been delivered here just after the man had escaped from Rhyme on a cold, cold day in December not so long ago.

"Thom. Scotch. Please."

"What's wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong. It's not breakfast time and I want some scotch. I passed my physical with flying colors and the last time I looked you weren't a Bible-thumping, teetotaling Baptist. Why the hell do you think there's something wrong?"

"Because you said 'please.' "

"Very funny. Quite the wit today."

"I try." But he frowned as he studied Rhyme and read something in his expression. "Maybe a double?" he asked softly.

"A double would be lovely," Rhyme said, lapsing into Brit English.

The aide poured a large tumblerful of Glenmorangie and arranged the straw near his mouth.

"Join me?"


Tags: Jeffery Deaver Lincoln Rhyme Mystery