"How the hell many cables are there?"
"About four."
"Well, the one Sachs and Pulaski found at the school in Chinatown. I want the trace between the insulation and the wire itself dug out and run through their SEM."
Then came the sound of plastic and paper. A moment later, footsteps. "I'll be back in forty minutes, an hour."
"I don't care when you get back. I care when you call me with the results."
Footsteps, thudding.
The microphone was very sensitive.
A door slammed. Silence. The tapping of computer keys, nothing else.
Then Rhyme, shouting: "Goddamn it, Thom! . . . Thom!"
"What, Lincoln? Are you--"
"Is Mel gone?"
"Hold on."
After a moment the voice called, "Yes, his car just left. You want me to call him?"
"No, don't bother. Look, I need a piece of wire. I want to see if I can duplicate something Randall did. . . . A long piece of wire. Do we have anything like that here?"
"Extension cord?"
"No, bigger. Twenty, thirty feet."
"Why would I have any wire that long here?"
"I just thought maybe you would. Well, go find some. Now."
"Where am I supposed to find wire?"
/>
"A fucking wire store. I don't know. A hardware store. There's that one on Broadway, right? There used to be."
"It's still there. So you need thirty feet?"
"That should do it. . . . What?"
"It's just, you're not looking well, Lincoln. I'm not sure I should leave you."
"Yes, you should. You should do what I'm asking. The sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be back and you can mother-hen me to your heart's content. But for now: Go!"
There was no sound for a moment.
"All right. But I'm checking your blood pressure first."
Another pause.
"Go ahead."
Muffled sounds, a faint hiss, the rasp of Velcro. "It's not bad. But I want to make sure it stays that way. . . . How are you feeling?"