"Don't worry," Sachs reassured her. "I'll make sure that doesn't happen to you."

Then Kara looked over the evidence chart. "You do this in all your cases? Write down all the clues and things you've learned?"

"That's right," Sachs confirmed.

"Here's an idea-most magicians specialize. Like the Conjurer doing both quick-change and large-scale illusion? That's unusual. Let's write down his techniques. That might help narrow down the number of suspects."

"Yeah," Sellitto said, "a profile. Good."

The young woman grimaced. "And I'll have to find somebody to replace me at the shop. Mr. Balzac was going to be out of the store with that friend of his. . . . Oh, man, he's not going to like this." She looked around the room. "There a phone I can use? You know, one of those special ones?"

"Special one?" Thom asked.

"Yeah, in private. So there's nobody around to hear you lie to your boss."

"Oh, those phones," the aide said, putting his arm around her shoulders and directing her toward the doorway. "The one I use for that's in the hall."

THE CONJURER.

Music School Crime Scene Perp's description: Brown hair, fake beard, no distinguishing, medium build, medium height, age: fifties. Ring and little fingers of left hand fused together. Changed costume quickly to resemble old, bald janitor.

* No apparent motive.

* Victim: Svetlana Rasnikov.

* Full-time music student.

* Checking family, friends, students, coworkers for possible leads.

* No boyfriends, no known enemies. Performed at children's birthday parties.

* Circuit board with speaker attached.

* Sent to FBI lab, NYC.

* Digital recorder, probably containing perp's voice. All data destroyed.

* Voice recorder is a "gimmick." Homemade.

* Used antique iron handcuffs to restrain victim.

* Handcuffs are Darby irons. Scotland Yard. Checking with Houdini Museum in New Orleans for leads.

* Destroyed victim's watch at exactly 8:00 A. M.

* Cotton string holding chairs. Generic. Too many sources to trace.

* Squib for gunshot effect. Destroyed.

* Too many sources to trace.

* Fuse. Generic.

* Too many sources to trace.

* Responding officers reported flash in air. No trace material recovered.

* Was from flash cotton or flash paper.

* Too many sources to trace.

* Perp's shoes: size 10 Ecco.

* Silk fibers, dyed gray, processed to a matte finish.

* From quick-change janitor's outfit.

* Unsub is possibly wearing brown wig.

* Red pignut hickory and Parmelia conspersa lichen, both found primarily in Central Park.

* Dirt impregnated with unusual mineral oil. Sent to FBI for analysis.

* Black silk, 72 x 48". Used as camouflage. Not traceable.

* Illusionists use this frequently.

* Wears caps to cover up prints.

* Magician's finger cups.

* Traces of latex, castor oil, makeup.

* Theatrical makeup.

* Traces of alginate.

* Used in molding latex "appliances."

* Murder weapon: white silk-knit rope with black silk core.

* Rope is a magic trick. Color-changing. Not traceable.

* Unusual knot.

* Sent to FBI and Maritime Museum-no information.

* Knots are from Houdini routines, virtually impossible to untie.

* Used disappearing ink on sign-in register.

Profile as Illusionist Perp will use misdirection against victims and in eluding police.

* Physical misdirection (for distraction).

* Psychological (to eliminate suspicion).

* Escape at music school was similar to Vanished Man illusion routine. Too common to trace.

* Perp is primarily an illusionist.

* Talented at sleight-of-hand.

* Also knows protean (quick change) magic. Will use breakaway clothes, nylon and silk, bald cap, finger cups and other latex appliances. Could be any age, gender or race.

Chapter Nine.

They sensed many smells as they walked: blooming lilacs, smoke from the pretzel vendors' carts and families barbecuing chicken and ribs, suntan lotion.

Sachs and Kara were making their way to the huge white tent of the Cirque Fantastique through the damp grass of Central Park.

Noticing two lovers kissing on a bench, Kara asked, "So, he's more than your boss?"

"Lincoln? That's right."

"I could tell. . . . How'd you meet?"

"A case. Serial kidnapper. A few years ago."

"Is it hard, him being that way?"

"No, it's not," Sachs replied simply, which was the complete truth.

"Can they do anything for him, the doctors?"

"There's some surgery he's been thinking about. It's risky, though, and it probably wouldn't do any good. He decided not to last year and hasn't mentioned it since. So the whole thing's been on hold for a while. He may change his mind at some point. But we'll see."

"You don't sound like you're in favor of it."

"I'm not. A lot of risk and not much gain. To me, it's a question of balancing risks. Let's say you want to bust a perp real bad, lots of paper on him, okay? Warrants, I mean. You know he's in a particular apartment. Well, do you go ahead and kick the door in even when you don't know if he's asleep or if he and his buddies have two MP5s pointed at the door? Or do you wait for backup and take the chance that he'll get away? Sometimes the risk is worth it, sometimes it's not. But if he wants to go ahead with the surgery I'm with him. That's the way we work."

Then Sachs explained that he'd been undergoing treatments that involved electronic stimulation of his muscles and a series of exercises that Thom and some physical therapists had been administering-the same exercises that the actor Christopher Reeve had been doing, with remarkable results. "Reeve's an amazing man," Sachs said. "Incredible determination. Lincoln's the same. He doesn't talk about it much but sometimes he just disappears and has Thom and the PTs work on his exercises. I don't hear from him for a few days."

"Another sort of vanished man, hm?" the young woman asked.

"Exactly," Sachs replied, smiling. They were silent for a moment and she wondered if Kara expected more about their relationship. Stories of perseverance over the obvious obstacles, some hint about the knobby details of life as a quad. People's reactions when they were out in public. Or even some hint about the nature of the intimacies. But if she was curious she didn't pursue it.

In fact, Sachs detected mostly envy. Kara continued, "I haven't had much luck lately in the man department."

"Not seeing anybody?"

"I'm not sure," Kara replied pensively. "Our last contact was French toast and mimosas. My place. Brunch in bed. Way romantic. He said he'd call me the next day."

"And no call."

"No call. Oh, and maybe I should add that the aforementioned brunch was three weeks ago."

"Have you called him?"

"I wouldn't do that," she said firmly. "It's in his court."

"Good for you." Pride and power were born joined at the hip, Sachs knew.

Kara laughed. "There's an old routine a magician named William Ellsworth Robinson did. It was way popular. It was called How to Get Rid of a Wife, or The Divorce Machine." A laugh. "That's my story. I can vanish boyfriends faster than anybody."

"Well, they're also pretty good at vanishing themselves, you know," Sachs offered.

"Most of the guys I'd meet working at my old job, the magazine, or the store're interested in two things. A one-night romp in the hay. Or else the opposite-wooing then settling down in the 'burbs. . . . You ever get wooed?"

"Sure," Sachs said. "It can be creepy. Depending on the wooer, of course."

"You got it, sister. So hay-romping or wooing and 'burb-settling . . . they're both a problem for me. I don't want either. Well, a romp now and then. Let's be realistic."

"What about men in the business?"

"Ah, so you noticed I excluded them from the romp/woo equation. Other performers . . . naw, I don't go there. Too many conflicts of interest. They also claim they like strong women but the truth is most of them don't want us in the business at all. The ratio of men to women is about a hundred to one. It's better now. Oh, you see some famous women illusionists. Princess Tenko, an Asian illusionist-she's brilliant. And there're a few others. But that's recent. Twenty, thirty years ago you never saw a woman as the star, only the assistant."

A glance at Sachs. "Kind of like the police, huh?"

"It's not as bad as it used to be. Not my generation. The sixties and seventies-that's when women were breaking the ice. That was the hard time. But I've had my share. I was a portable before I moved to crime-scene and-"

"A what?"

"A portable's a beat cop. If we ever worked Hell's Kitchen in Midtown they'd partner a woman with some experienced male cop. Sometimes I'd have a knuckle-dragger who hated being with a woman. Just hated it. He didn't say a word to me for the entire watch. Eight hours, walking up and down the streets, this guy not saying a word. We'd go ten-sixty-three for lunch and I'd be sitting there trying to be pleasant and he'd be two feet away, reading the sports section and sighing 'cause he had to waste his time with a woman." Memories came back to her. "I was working the Seven-five house-"

"The what?"

Sachs explained, "Precinct. We call them 'houses.' And most cops don't say Seventy-fifth. In numbers it's always Seven-five or Seventy-five. Like Macy's is on Three-four Street."