'Doyou have cameras in there?'

    JohnShepherd chuckled. 'Is the pope .. . what is the pope now, by the way?'

    'German.'

    'Doesn'tsound as good as Polish, does it?'

    'No.'

    'Wehave cameras,' Shepherd said. 'Come on.'

    Fromthe outside, the Loss Prevention office at Le Jardin looked like any other roomin the hotel. Unremarkable door, heavy-duty key lock. In the center of thehallway outside, which itself was off-limits to hotel guests, was asmoked-glass dome cam.

    Insidewas a small outer office, which led, through another secure door, to a largerroom in which two people were working.

    Shepherdspoke to a young woman at one of the desks, wrote something on the pad. Whilehe was showing Jessica and Byrne the surveillance capabilities of the hotel,she would be putting in calls to the security directors of the surroundinghotels, looking for a guest named George Archer.

    Infront of them were two thirty-inch high-definition monitors, each divided intosix windows. According to Shepherd, one operator kept an eye on them at alltimes, two people per eight-hour shift, rotating every two hours.

    Jessicascanned the monitors. The one on the right had six windows up that showed thehuge atrium, viewed from the mezzanine level. A dozen people or so hadcongregated near the center of the room. A man and a woman, middle-aged, stoodat the front desk. An elderly woman chatted with the concierge. A few secondslater the view shifted to the parking lot and front entrance. A limo idled atthe front door as a pair of young bellmen pulled a number of large suitcasesfrom the trunk. Another bellman leaned into the passenger window of a waitingcab.

    Thesoftware rotated the windows, floor after floor, with a view of the elevatorsconstantly in the upper right-hand section of the screen.

    Shepherdsat down, clicked a few keys, and more than sixty small windows lined up on thetwo monitors. 'We've got two dome cams in every hall, clock cams in all thepersonnel spaces, half-zone weatherproof bullet cams in the parking lot, andfour state-of-the-art 360-degree pan-and-tilt domes in the atrium and lobby,watching the desk and the money room. Not too much goes on here that we don'tsee.'

    'Thisis a real voyeur's delight,' Byrne said.

    'Waituntil you see the bathroom cams,' Shepherd said, with a wink.

    Jessicaand Byrne had done a lot of work with the Audio-Visual Unit of the PPD, as wellas the communications unit, which monitored the PPD street cams, for whichPhiladelphia was getting more and more funding.

    Shepherdbrought up the Crystal Room on a split screen. There was a man at the lectern,clearly an employee of whatever company was providing the PA and sound systemsfor the event. He performed a sound check.

    'Sothe people in this society used to be either cops or prosecutors?' Jessicaasked.

    'Notat all,' Shepherd said. 'Some were in forensics, some worked for medicalexaminers' offices, some of them were never on the job at all. There are prettytight membership rules and dues, which are kind of steep, so they keep out the lowlifesand the thrill seekers.'

    'Theregoes my shot at membership,' Byrne said.

    'Believeit.'

    'Arethey any good at what they do?' Jessica asked.

    Shepherdnodded. 'That's my understanding. Every case they take on has to be formallypresented to them by a bona fide agency. They don't work with the FBI or theNYPD, but just about everyone else of note has presented something.'

    Thethree of them watched the monitors for a while, the constant rotation of viewsfrom within and without the hotel. It was a relentless flow: staff, guests,visitors, deliveries.

    Wasone of them their killer? Jessica wondered. Would she know him if she saw him?

    WhenJessica and Byrne returned to the Roundhouse, Jessica checked her messages.Nothing case-breaking. She checked the fax basket. There was a five-page faxfrom Frederic Duchesne, as promised. It was a detailed description ofCarnival of the Animals. She brought it to her desk.

    Jessicagot onto the Société Poursuite website. In addition to a brief history,its mission statement, and an explanation of what the group was about, therewere lists of its members, officers, past officers, and sub-chapters around theworld. It was clear that the group chose its cases carefully, perhaps with aneye on choosing only those that had a chance of resolution.

    Themenu at the bottom offered links to other sites and to message boards.

    'Checkthe message boards,' Byrne said. Jessica clicked over. There were a few dozenongoing topics. One was a discussion of current trends in forensics. Anotherwas a discussion of the disposition of homicide cases around the world. Therewas a discussion of ideas for cases for the group to tackle. This board hadmore than four thousand entries. Jessica clicked over, and as she scrolledthrough the posts her skin began to crawl.

    Oneby one the entries appeared. They were all there. All the original homicideshad been suggested as cases in which the group might be interested. MelinaLaskaris, Marcellus Palmer, Antoinette Chan, Margaret Van Tassel. And they wereall suggested by one user. The user name was cssl835.

    Jessicagot on the phone to John Shepherd, asking him to talk to someone from the groupabout the criteria for posting. A few minutes later, Shepherd called back.

    'Italked to the president of the group,' Shepherd said. 'He says you don't haveto log in or be a member to post something on that board. He says that it woulddiscourage people from coming forward.'

    'Sothey have no record of who this "cssl835" might be?'

    'No,'Shepherd said. 'Sorry.'

    Jessicathanked him, hung up. She looked back at the screen. Whoever was doing this wasconnected to, or had an interest in, Société Poursuite. Was it GeorgeArcher? Was George Archer css1835?

    Jessicalooked at the material she had received from Frederic Duchesne.

    CamilleSaint-Saens - css - had been born in 1835.

    Atsix-thirty Dana Westbrook stepped out of her office, into the duty room.'Kevin?'

    Byrneturned to look at her. 'Yeah?'

    'CouldI see you for a minute?'

    Byrnecrossed the room, dropped his weapon in his file drawer, and walked into DanaWestbrook's office.

Chapter 68

    When Byrnewalked into the office he was more than a little surprised to see that, inaddition to Sergeant Westbrook, there were Michael Drummond from the DA'soffice and Inspector Ted Mostow. In the corner, arms crossed, smug look inplace, was Dennis Stansfield. Russell Diaz held down the other chair.

    'Inspector,'Byrne said. 'Good to see you, sir.'

    'How'veyou been, Kevin?'

    'Betterdays.'

    'How'sthe baby?'

    Byrneshrugged, more or less on cue. 'Ten fingers, ten toes.'

    Itwas an old expression, one that meant all was well with whatever case you wereworking on. In homicide you responded that way whether the case was going wellor not.

    Byrnenodded at Michael Drummond. 'Mike.' Drummond smiled, but there was no warmth init. Something was wrong.

    'Please,have a seat,' Westbrook said. Byrne took a chair near the windows.

    'Asyou know, Detective Stansfield is working the Eduardo Robles homicide,'Drummond began.

    Byrnejust listened. Drummond continued.

    'Inthe course of his investigation he discovered the existence of a surveillancecamera on the opposite side of the street, just across