Page 30 of The Midnight Lock (Lincoln Rhyme 14)

Sachs continued, “She’s tough. She came out of Internal Affairs. At IAB, she was by the book. She’d write you up for pocketing a bribe or wearing white socks. Made no difference.”

The footwear reference, Rhyme knew, meant citing an officer for a minor uniform violation.

“Known as the Iron Maiden.”

Lovely.

A moment later the pulsing tone echoed through the parlor. Rhyme said, “Command. Email.”

A window popped up on a large screen.

“Command. Open.” Then, after the Zoom invitation appeared, Rhyme said, “Command. Cursor to hyperlink. Command. Enter.”

He joined with computer audio and clicked on the video camera icon and a red light on the webcam glowed. A moment later he was looking at a nondescript conference room, presumably somewhere in One Police Plaza. The wide-angle shot revealed several people around the end of a conference table. A blond woman in her mid to late fifties was in the center.

He knew the other two. To her right was a solidly built Blackman of about forty-five. Francis Duvalier was a senior assistant district attorney. Rhyme had testified in some of his trials; he was good and a preferred prosecutor for high-profile cases. The other was Alonzo Rodriguez, whose official title was commanding officer at large in the Detective Bureau. He was round and balding and his face was squat, distinguished by an odd attempt at a handlebar mustache. All three were in dark jackets and white shirts. The men wore ties in different shades of blue. Willis wore a pearl choker.

“Captain Rhyme, I’m First Deputy Commissioner Willis.” Her voice was gravelly. Rhyme noted she used the mouthful of a title. Others might have said “Dep Com” or just their first name.

Noted too that she’d used his title as well. Perhaps a sign of deference, perhaps not.

“Commissioner. And Francis, Al.”

“Lincoln,” they said simultaneously.

The trio was stony faced.

Rhyme said, “I’m here with Detectives Sachs and Cooper.”

“Good.”

A curious comment. He waited.

“Captain Rhyme, first, I think I can speak for the entire department when I say we truly appreciate your contributions to investigations and prosecutions over the years.”

He tipped his head again.

“I assume you’ve heard about the Viktor Buryak verdict.”

“I have.”

She looked at Duvalier, who said, “Lincoln, there was a jury poll taken after the verdict.” He was hesitating, which Rhyme had never known him to do. “Eight members of the jury said the reason they couldn’t convict was because of your testimony. They said that the evidence was questionable.”

Rhyme was silent.

The man continued, “You and I, we both know that juries can be tough to figure. But that many of them, focusing on the same issue?”

Willis continued, “Somehow, the poll went public. I guess some jurors talked to the press. It became an issue. There’ve been stories: a man nearly convicted of murder on the basis of erroneous evidence. You know we’ve had problems in the past.”

She was referring to incidents in the NYPD lab where evidence technicians were sloppy or lazy, or who in a few cases were bribed to intentionally alter evidence.

“Captain, we needed to do something. To shore up the department’s credibility. This comes from the top. I’ve met with some people here, including the commissioner. It’s been approved by the chief of department too. We’ve come to a decision. A press release is going out as we speak. Effective immediately, the NYPD will no longer be using civilian consultants in criminal investigations.”

Rhyme said coolly, “If I’m not mistaken, you wanted me on the Locksmith case. Weren’t you feeling that he’d thrown the home invasion in your face and you wanted him collared as fast as possible?WasI mistaken about that?”

The trio looked toward one another uneasily. Willis continued, “Circumstances changed.”

Amelia Sachs was blunter. “Bullshit.”