The Cutting Edge (Lincoln Rhyme #14)(131)

But, Rhyme believed, if they could nail Carreras-López, they could offer the lawyer a plea bargain in exchange for El Halcón’s partner.

Which meant they had to let the escape plan go forward—but divert El Halcón’s van and use a second one, filled with tactical officers, to proceed to the helicopter and take down the lawyer and his entire crew.

Exactly as had happened, without a glitch.

Rhyme’s phone now hummed with a text.

FYI. Carreras-López has accepted plea offer. Identified his U.S. partner: Roger Whitney, Garden City, Long Island. Thx, Lincoln.

—H. Bishop.



Rhyme now heard the sound of the Sprinter door opening behind him. He turned.

Sachs stood in the doorway, her machine gun slung, muzzle down, from her shoulder. Her helmet in her left hand. Rhyme reflected that she was nearly as appealing in this outfit as she had been in the green dress.

“Can I hitch a ride?” she asked.

“Think we can fit you in.”

Sachs climbed in and slammed the door. She sat, pulled the magazine from her weapon and ejected the round in the chamber. Their eyes met.

“So,” she said. “That’s it.”

“That’s it, Sachs.”





Chapter 71



Vimal Lahori had not seen his father yesterday.

After supper with his mother and brother, Vimal had gone to spend the evening with Adeela. He’d returned late and by the time he arrived home, he noted his father’s car was in the drive but he had gone to bed.

Upon waking this morning, he learned that Papa was again out.

Whatever business the man was about, he hadn’t shared it with his wife, much less his younger son. But then Papa never shared anything unless it was a pronouncement coming down from on high.

Vimal knew, without doubt, but with dread, what the man’s mission was: finding Vimal another apprenticeship. But it wouldn’t be easy, despite Vimal’s skills. The young man was tainted. He was now associated with the worst thing that could happen in the diamond world—a robbery and murder. Oh, he wasn’t guilty of anything himself, and the crimes had turned out to be something quite different, but diamantaires wouldn’t dwell on those distinctions. They would forever link Vimal with the death of the genius Jatin Patel, one of their own.

Vimal Lahori had become a living reminder of the dark and perilous side of these miraculous gems, from blood diamonds in Africa, to slave labor in Siberia, to armed robberies in Belgium.

But his father would beg or bluster until someone signed Vimal on.

He was presently in his studio, looking over a two-pound piece of lapis lazuli. Vimal loved this intensely blue mineral. It was generally used for jewelry but one could find pieces large enough for sculpting, at reasonable prices. The metamorphic rock has a long history in both jewelry and art. Tutankhamun’s funeral mask featured it, and Chinese artists would carve miniature mountainside villages into vertical pieces, just as they did with jade. Lapis was first discovered in Badakhshan province of Afghanistan and is now found there, as well as such exotic places as Siberia, Angola, Burma, Pakistan and—where this particular stone had come from—Pleasant Gulch, Colorado.

He was turning the stone over and over in his hand, waiting for it to talk to him and explain what incarnation it wished to achieve through Vimal’s eager hands. Yet at the moment it was silent.

Then footsteps on the stairs.

Vimal knew the tread falls. He set down the brilliant blue stone, layered with gold pyrite, and sat on the work chair.

“Son.”

Vimal nodded to the bleary-eyed man. He reflected: must be hard work trying to pimp a whore nobody wants.

Papa was carrying two envelopes, one large and one small. Vimal glanced at them, supposing they were contracts for cutting assignments. His eyes slipped back to his father.

The man said, “I missed you last night. I was very tired. I went to bed. But your mother told me you were well. Unharmed after that incident with the man. The killer.”

Incident…

“Yes.”

“I was very grateful for that,” Papa said, then seemed to realize the absurdity of the words.

His father’s eyes were on the lapis. “Mr. Patel’s children and their families have come to town. They and his sister have held the funeral and cremation privately.” In the Hindu religion, cremation is the only acceptable way to treat the body. In India the funeral and the cremation occur at the same place—traditionally, of course, the body is burned on an open pyre. Here, the Hindu funeral rites, the Antyesti, are modified to allow for Western custom and laws.

His father added, “But they are holding a memorial at his sister’s house tonight. That’s one reason I’ve been away. I was helping with that. You will come?”

“Sure. Yeah, of course.”

“You can say something if you like. But you don’t have to.”

“I will.”

“Good. You’ll do a good job.”

Silence.

One reason I’ve been away…

Now it was time to learn of the other reason. Who was to be his new master?

Well, Vimal Lahori decided. No one would be. This was the end. He was going to say no to the man.

At last he would say no.

He took a deep breath to do so but his father handed him the smaller of the envelopes. The trembling of his hand was not so bad today. “Here.”