ike assaulting a medieval castle.

Sachs, Baker and Pulaski joined Bo Haumann around the corner from the church in the nondescript Chelsea section of town. The ESU troops had deployed quietly up and down the streets surrounding the place, keeping a low profile.

The church had only enough doors to satisfy the fire code, and steel bars on most of the windows. This would make it difficult for Gerald Duncan to escape, of course, but it also meant that ESU had few options for access. That, in turn, increased the likelihood that the killer had booby-trapped the entrances or would wait for them with a weapon. And the stone walls, two feet thick, also made the risk greater than it might otherwise have been because the Search and Surveillance team's thermal-and sound-sensing equipment was largely useless; they simply couldn't tell if he was inside.

"What's the plan?" asked Amelia Sachs, standing next to Bo Haumann in the alley behind the church. Dennis Baker was beside her, his hand close to his pistol. His eyes danced around the streets and sidewalk, which told Sachs that he hadn't been on a tactical entry for a long time — if ever. She was still pissed about the spying; she wasn't very sympathetic that he was sweating.

Ron Pulaski was nearby, his hand resting on the grip of his Glock. He too rocked nervously on his feet as he gazed at the imposing, sooty structure.

Haumann explained that the teams would do a simple dynamic entry through all doors, after taking them out with explosive charges. There was no choice — the doors were too thick for a battering ram — but charges would clearly announce their presence and give Duncan a chance to prepare at least some defense within the building. What would he do when he heard the explosions and the footsteps of the cops charging inside?

Give up?

A lot of perps do.

But some don't. They either panic or cling to some crazy idea that they can fight their way though a dozen armed officers. Rhyme had told her about Duncan's mission of revenge; she didn't figure somebody that obsessed would be the surrendering type.

Sachs took her position with a side-door entry team while Baker and Pulaski remained at the command post with Haumann.

Through her headset she heard the ESU commander say, "Entry devices are armed... Teams, report, K."

The A, B and C teams called in that they were ready.

In his raspy voice, Haumann called, "On my count... Five, four, three, two, one."

Three sharp cracks resounded as the doors blew open simultaneously, setting off car alarms and shaking nearby windows. Officers poured inside.

It turned out that their concern about fortified positions and booby traps had been unfounded. The bad news, though, was that a search of the place made it clear that the Watchmaker was either one of the luckiest men on earth or had anticipated them yet again. He wasn't here.

"Check this out, Ron."

Amelia Sachs stood in a doorway of a small, upstairs storeroom in the church.

"Freaky," the young officer offered.

That worked.

They were looking at a number of moon-faced clocks stacked against a stone wall. The faces stared out with their cryptic look, not quite a smile, not quite a leer, as if they knew exactly how much time was allotted for your life and were pleased to be counting down to the final second.

All of them were ticking, a sound that Sachs found unnerving.

She counted five of them. Which meant he had one with him.

Burn her to death...

Pulaski was zipping up his Tyvek crime scene suit and strapping his Glock outside the overalls. Sachs told him that she'd walk the grid up here, where Vincent had said the men had been staying. The rookie would take the ground floor of the church.

He nodded, looking uneasily at the dark corridors, the shadows. The blow to his skull the previous year had been severe and a supervisor had wanted to sideline him, put him behind a desk. He'd struggled to come back from the head injury and simply would not let the brass take him off the street. She knew he got spooked sometimes. She could see in his eyes that he was constantly making the decision whether or not to step up to the task in front of him. Even though he always chose to do so, there were some cops, she knew, who wouldn't want to work with him because of this. Sachs, though, would far rather work with somebody who confronted his ghosts every time he went out on the street. That was guts.

She'd never hesitate to have him as a partner.

Then she realized what she'd thought and qualified it: If I were going to stay on the force.

Pulaski wiped his palms, which Sachs could see were sweaty, despite the chill, and pulled on latex gloves.

As they divided up the evidence collection equipment she said, "Hey, heard you got jumped in the garage, running the Explorer scene."

"Yeah."

"Hate it when that happens."

He gave a laugh that meant he understood this was her way of saying it's okay to be nervous. He started for the door.

"Hey, Ron."

He stopped.

"By the way, Rhyme said you did a great job."

"He did?"

Not in so many words. But that was Rhyme. Sachs said, "He sure did. Now, go search the shit out of that scene. I want to nail this bastard."

He gave a grin. "You bet."

Sachs said, "It's not a Christmas present. It's a job."

And nodded him downstairs.

She found nothing that suggested who the next victim was but at least there was a significant amount of evidence in the church.

From Vincent Reynolds's room Sachs recovered samples of a dozen different junk foods and sodas, as well as proof of his darker appetites: condoms, duct tape and rags, presumably to use as gags. The place was a mess. It smelled of unwashed clothes.

In Duncan's room Sachs found horological magazines (without subscription labels), watchmaker's and other tools (including the wire cutters that were probably used to cut the chain link fence at the first scene) and clothes. Unlike Vincent's this room was eerily pristine and ordered. The bed was so tautly made that a drill instructor would have approved. The clothes hung perfectly in the closet (all the labels removed, she noticed), the space between the hangers exactly the same. Items on the desk were aligned at exact angles to one another. He was careful to leave next to nothing about himself personally; two museum programs, from Boston and Tampa, were hidden up under a trash container, but while they suggested he'd been to those cities, they weren't, of course, where Vincent said he lived, the Midwest. There was also a pet hair roller.!!!It's like he's wearing a Tyvek suit of his own...

She also found some clues that were possibly from the prior crime scenes — a roll of duct tape that would probably match the tape at the alley and that, presumably, was used to gag the victim on the pier. She found an old broom with dirt, fine sand and bits of salt on it. She guessed it was what he'd used to sweep the scene around where Teddy Adams had been killed.

There was also evidence that she hoped might reveal his present location or that related in some way to the next victims. In a small plastic Tupperware container were some coins, three Bic pens, receipts from a parking garage downtown and a drugstore on the Upper West Side, and a book of matches (missing three of them) from a restaurant on the Upper East Side. There were no fingerprints on any of these items. She also found a pair of shoes whose treads were dotted with gaudy green paint, and an empty gallon jug that had contained wood alcohol.

There were no fingerprints but she did find plenty of cotton fibers the same color of those in the Explorer. She then found a plastic bag containing a dozen pairs of the gloves themselves, no store labels or receipts. The bag had no prints on it.

In his search downstairs Ron Pulaski didn't find much but he made a curious discovery: a coating of white powder in a toilet. Tests would tell for certain but he believed it was from a fire extinguisher since he also found a trash bag near the back door, inside of which was the empty carton an extinguisher had been sold in. The rookie had looked over the box carefully but there were no store labels to indicate where it had been purchased.

Why the extinguisher had been discharged was unclear. There was no evidence that anything in the bathroom had been burning.

She had a call patched through to Vincent Reynolds, in the lockup, and he told her that Duncan had recently bought a fire extinguisher. He didn't know why it had been discharged.

After chain-of-custody cards were filled out, Sachs and Pulaski joined Baker, Haumann and the others just inside the front door of the church, where they'd been waiting while the two officers walked the grid. Sachs called Rhyme on the radio and told him and Sellitto what they'd found.

As she recited the evidence, she could hear Rhyme instructing Thom to include it on the charts.

"Boston and Tampa?" the criminalist asked, referring to the museum programs. "Vincent might be wrong. Hold on." He had Cooper check with Vital Statistics and DMV for any Gerald Duncans in those cities but, while there were residents with that name, their ages didn't match the perp's.

The criminalist was silent for a moment. Then he said, "The fire extinguisher... I'm betting he made an incendiary device out of it. He used alcohol as the accelerant. There was some on the clock at Lucy Richter's apartment too. That's how he's going to burn the next victim to death. And what's the one thing about fire extinguishers?"

"Give up," Sachs replied.

"They're invisible. One could be sitting right next to somebody and they'd never think twice about it."

Baker said, "I say we take whatever clues we've found here and divide them up, hope one of them leads us to the next victim. We've got receipts, those matches, the shoes."

Rhyme's voice crackled over the radio, "Whatever you do, make it fast. According to Vincent, if he's not at the church, he's on his way to the next victim. He might already be there by now."

THE WATCHMAKER

CRIME SCENE ONE

Location:

• Repair pier in Hudson River, 22nd Street.

Victim:

• Identity unknown.

• Male.

• Possibly middle-aged or older, and may have coronary condition (presence of anticoagulants in blood).

• No other drugs, infection or disease in blood.

• Coast Guard and ESU divers checking for body and evidence in New York Harbor.

• Checking missing persons reports.

• Recovered jacket in New York Harbor. Bloody sleeves. Macy's, size 44. No other clues, no sign of body.

Perp:

• See below.

M.O.:

• Perp forced victim to hold on to deck, over water, cut fingers or wrists until he fell.

• Time of attack: between 6 P.M. Monday and 6 A.M. Tuesday.

Evidence:

• Blood type AB positive.

• Fingernail torn, unpolished, wide.

• Portion of chain link fence cut with common wire cutters, untraceable.

• Clock. See below.

• Poem. See below.

• Fingernail markings on deck.

• No discernible trace, no fingerprints, no footprints, no tire tread marks.

CRIME SCENE TWO

Location:

• Alley off Cedar Street, near Broadway, behind three commercial buildings (back doors closed at 8:30 to 10 P.M.) and one government administration building (back door closed at 6 P.M.).

• Alley is a cul-de-sac. Fifteen feet wide by one hundred and four feet long, surfaced in cobblestones, body was fifteen feet from Cedar Street.

Victim:

• Theodore Adams.

• Lived in Battery Park.

• Freelance copywriter.

• No known enemies.

• No warrants, state or federal.

• Checking for a connection with buildings around alley. None found.

Perp:

• The Watchmaker.

• Male.

• No database entries for the Watchmaker.

M.O.:

• Dragged from vehicle to alley, where iron bar was suspended over him. Eventually crushed throat.

• Awaiting medical examiner's report to confirm.

• No evidence of sexual activity.

• Time of death: approximately 10:15 P.M. to 11 P.M. Monday night. Medical examiner to confirm.

Evidence:

• Clock.

o No explosives, chemical- or bioagents.

o Identical to clock at pier.

o No fingerprints, minimal trace.

o Arnold Products, Framingham, MA.

o Sold by Hallerstein's Timepieces, Manhattan.

• Poem left by perp at both scenes.

o Computer printer, generic paper, HP LaserJet ink.

o Text:!!!The full Cold Moon is in the sky,

shining on the corpse of earth,

signifying the hour to die

and end the journey begun at birth.!!!— THE WATCHMAKER

• Not in any poetry databases; probably his own.

• Cold Moon is lunar month, the month of death.

• $60 in pocket, no serial number leads; prints negative.

• Fine sand used as "obscuring agent." Sand was generic. Because he's returning to the scene?

• Metal bar, 81 pounds, is needle-eye span. Not being used in construction across from the alleyway. No other source found.

• Duct tape, generic, but cut precisely, unusual. Exactly the same lengths.

• Thallium sulfate (rodent poison) found in sand.

• Soil containing fish protein — from perp, not victim.

• Very little trace found.

• Brown fibers, probably automotive carpeting.

Other:

• Vehicle.

o Ford Explorer, about three years old. Brown carpet. Tan.

o Review of license tags of cars in area Tuesday morning reveals no warrants. No tickets issued Monday night.

• Checking with Vice about prostitutes, re: witness.

o No leads.

INTERVIEW WITH HALLERSTEIN

Perp:

• EFIT composite picture of the Watchmaker — late forties, early fifties, round face, double chin, thick nose, unusually light blue eyes. Over 6 feet tall, lean, hair black, medium length, no jewelry, dark clothes. No name.

• Knows great deal about clocks and watches and which timepieces had been sold at recent auctions and were at current horologic exhibits in the city.

• Threatened dealer to keep quiet.

• Bought 10 clocks. For 10 victims?

• Paid cash.

• Wanted moon face on clock, wanted loud tick.

Evidence:

• Source of clocks was Hallerstein's Timepieces, Flatiron District.

• No prints on cash paid for clocks, no serial number hits. No trace on money.

• Called from pay phones.

CRIME SCENE THREE

Location:

• 481 Spring Street.

Victim:

• Joanne Harper.

• No apparent motive.

• Didn't know second victim, Adams.

Perp:

• Watchmaker.

• Assistant.

o Probably man spotted earlier by victim, at her shop.

o White, heavyset, in sunglasses, cream-colored parka and cap. Was driving the SUV.

M.O.:

• Picked locks to get inside.

• Intended method of attack unknown. Possibly planning to use florist's wire.

Evidence:

• Fish protein came from Joanne's (orchid fertilizer).

• Thallium sulfate nearby.

• Florist's wire, cut in precise lengths. (To use as murder weapon?)

• Clock.

o Same as others. No nitrates.

o No trace.

• No note or poem.

• No footprints, fingerprints, weapons or anything else left behind.

• Black flakes — roofing tar.

o Checking ASTER thermal images of New York for possible sources.

 Results inconclusive.

Other:

• Perp was checking out victim earlier than attack. Targeting her for a purpose. What?

• Have police scanner. Changing frequency.

• Vehicle.

o Tan.

o No tag number.

o Putting out Emergency Vehicle Locator.

o 423 owners of tan Explorers in area. Cross-reference against criminal warrants. Two found. One owner too old; other is in jail on drug charges.

 Owned by man in jail.

WATCHMAKER'S EXPLORER

Location:

• Found in garage, Hudson River and Houston Street.

Evidence:

• Explorer owned by man in jail. Had been confiscated, and stolen from lot, awaiting auction.

• Parked in open. Not near exit.

• Crumbs from corn chips, potato chips, pretzels, chocolate candy. Bits of peanut butter crackers. Stains from soda, regular, not diet.

• Box of Remington.32-caliber auto pistol ammo, seven rounds missing. Gun is possible Autauga Mk II.

• Book — Extreme Interrogation Techniques. Blueprint for his murder methods? No helpful information from publisher.

• Strand of gray-and-black hair, probably woman's.

• No prints at all, throughout entire vehicle.

• Beige cotton fibers from gloves.

• Sand matching that used in alleyway.

• Smooth-soled size-13 shoe print.

CRIME SCENE FOUR

Location:

• Barrow Street, Greenwich Village.

Victim:

• Lucy Richter.

Perp:

• Watchmaker.

• Assistant.

M.O.:

• Planned means of death unknown.

• Entry/exit routes not determined.

Evidence:

• Clock.

o Same as others.

o Left in bathroom.

o No explosives.

o Wood alcohol stain, no other trace.

• No note or poem.

• No recent roof tarring.

• No fingerprints or shoe prints.

• No distinctive trace.

• Wool fibers from shearling jacket or coat.

INTERVIEW WITH VINCENT REYNOLDS

AND SEARCH OF CHURCH

Location:

• 10th Avenue and 24th Street.

Perp:

• Watchmaker:

• Name is Gerald Duncan.

• Businessman from "the Midwest," specifics unknown.

• Wife died in NY; he's murdering for revenge.

• Armed with pistol and box cutter.

• His phone can't be traced.

• Collects old clocks and watches.

• Searching watchmakers and horologic organizations.

o No immediate hits.

• No info from Interpol or criminal information databases.

• Assistant:

o Vincent Reynolds.

o Temp employee.

o Lives in New Jersey.

o History of sexual assaults.

Evidence:

• Five additional clocks, identical to others. One missing.

• In Vincent's room:

o Junk food, sodas.

o Condoms.

o Duct tape.

o Rags (gags?).

• In Duncan's room:

o Horological magazines.

o Tools.

o Clothes.

o Programs from Tampa and Boston art museums.

o Additional duct tape.

o Old broom with dirt, sand and salt.

o Three Bic pens.

o Coins.

o Receipt from parking garage, downtown.

o Receipt from drugstore on Upper West Side.

o Book of matches from restaurant on Upper East Side.

o Shoes with bright green paint.

o Empty gallon jug of alcohol.

o Pet hair roller.

o Beige gloves.

• No fingerprints.

• Fire extinguisher residue.

• Empty box that contained fire extinguisher.

• Extinguisher to be alcohol incendiary device?

Other:

• Murdered a student near the church, was a witness.

o Local precinct is checking.

• Vehicle is a stolen, dark blue Buick.

o Murdered driver.

o Searching — carjackings, homicides, missing persons.

o Emergency Vehicle Locator ordered; no hits yet.

Sarah Stanton walked quickly over the frozen sidewalk back to the Midtown office building where she worked, clutching her Starbucks latte and a chocolate chip cookie — a guilty pleasure, but a reward for what would be a long day at the office.

Not that she needed a tasty incentive to get back to her workstation; she loved her job. Sarah was an estimator for a large flooring and interior design company. The mother of an eight-year-old, she'd gone back to work a few years earlier than planned, thanks to a tough divorce. She'd started as a receptionist and moved her way up quickly to become the head estimator for the company.

The work was demanding, a lot of numbers — but the company was good and she liked the people she worked with (well, most of them). And she had flexibility with her hours, since she was in the field a lot, meeting with clients. This was important because she had to get her son dressed and ready for school, then escort him all the way to Ninety-fifth Street by 9 A.M. and then head back to Midtown for her job, the timetable subject always to the whims of the Metropolitan Transit Authority. Today she would work more than ten hours; tomorrow, she was taking off entirely to go Christmas shopping with her boy.

Sarah swiped her entry card and pushed through the back door of the building, then performed her afternoon workout routine — walking up the stairs to her office rather than use the elevator. The company took up all of the third floor but her workstation was in a smaller office, which occupied only a portion of the second floor. This office was quiet, housing only four employees, but Sarah preferred that. The bosses rarely came down here and she could get her work done without interruption.

She climbed to the landing and paused. She reached for the door handle, thinking as she nearly always did: Why did these doors open without any kind of lock from the stairwell side? It'd be pretty easy for somebody —

She jumped, hearing a faint tap of metal. Spinning around, Sarah saw no one.

And... was that the sound of breathing?

Was somebody hurt?

Should she go see? Or call security?

"Is anyone there? Hello?"

Only silence.

Probably nothing, she thought. And stepped into the corridor that led to the back door of her office. Sarah unlocked the door and walked down the long corridor of the company.

Shedding her coat and setting the coffee and cookie on her desk, she sat down at her workstation, glancing at her computer.

Odd, she thought. On the screen was the window that read, "Date and Time Properties."

This was the utility in the Windows XP operating system that you used to set the date and time and time zone of your computer. It showed a calendar with the day's date indicated and, to the right, both an analog clock with sweep hands and below it a digital clock, both ticking off the seconds.

The screen hadn't been there before she'd made the run to Starbucks.

Had it popped up by itself? she wondered. Why? Maybe somebody'd used her computer while she was away, though she had no idea who it might be or why.

No matter. She closed the window on the screen and scooted forward.

She glanced down. What was that?

Sarah saw a fire extinguisher under her desk. It hadn't been there earlier either. The company was always doing weird things like this. Putting in new lighting, coming up with evacuation plans, rearranging furniture, for no apparent reason.

Now, fire extinguishers.

Probably something else we have the terrorists to thank for.

Taking a fast look at her son's picture, feeling comfort in seeing his smile, she set her purse under her desk and unwrapped her cookie.

Lieutenant Dennis Baker walked slowly down the deserted street. He was south of Hell's Kitchen in a largely industrial area on the west side.

As he'd suggested, the officers had divided up the clues found at the church in their hunt for the Watchmaker. He'd told Sachs and Haumann that he'd remembered a warehouse that was being painted with that same shade of sickly green paint found on the shoes in the Watchmaker's room. While the rest of the team were tracking down other leads, he'd come here.

The massive building stretched along the street, dark, abandoned, bleak even in the sharp sunlight. The lower six or seven feet of the grimy brick walls were covered with graffiti and half the windows were broken — some even shot out, it seemed. On the roof was a faded sign, Preston Moving and Storage, in an old-style typeface.

The front doors, painted that green color, were locked and chained shut but Baker found a side entrance, half hidden behind a Dumpster. It was open. He looked up and down the street then pulled the door open and stepped inside. Baker started through the dim place, lit only by slanting shafts of light. The smell was of rotting cardboard and mildew and heating oil. He drew his pistol. It felt awkward in his hand. He'd never fired a single shot in the line of duty.

Walking silently along the corridor, Baker approached the facility's main storage area, a massive open space whose floor was dotted with pools of greasy standing water and trash. Plenty of condoms too, he noticed in disgust. This was probably the least romantic site for a liaison you could imagine.

A flash of light from the offices lining the wall caught his attention. His eyes were growing accustomed to the dimness and as he walked closer he noticed a burning desk lamp inside a small room. There was one other thing he could see, as well.

One of the black, moon-faced clocks — the Watchmaker's calling cards.

Baker started forward.

Which is when he stepped on a large patch of grease he hadn't been able to see in the darkness and went down hard on his side, gasping. He dropped his pistol, which slid away across the filthy concrete floor. He winced in pain.

It was at this moment that a man jogged up fast behind him from one of the side corridors.

Baker glanced up into the eyes of Gerald Duncan, the Watchmaker.

The killer bent down.

And he offered his hand, helping Baker up. "You all right?"

"Just got the wind knocked out of me. Careless. Thanks, Gerry."

Duncan stepped away, retrieved Baker's pistol and handed it to him. "You didn't really need that." He laughed.

Baker put the gun back in his holster. "Wasn't sure who else I might run into, other than you. Spooky place."

The Watchmaker gestured toward the office. "Come on inside. I'll tell you exactly what's going to happen to her."

What was going to happen meant how the men were going to commit murder.

And the "her" he was referring to was an NYPD detective named Amelia Sachs