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- Ричард Морган
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"
You
can
get
a
progress
report
from
me
tomorrow
morning
.
I
’
ll
file
one
with
Oumou
Prescott
before
I
go
out
.
Come
on
,
Mrs
.
Bancroft
.
It
’
s
late
.
You
can
do
better
than
that
.
"
For
a
moment
I
thought
she
might
leave
,
the
way
she
twitched
.
But
then
she
took
her
glass
in
both
hands
,
bent
her
head
over
it
as
if
in
search
of
inspiration
and
after
a
long
moment
looked
up
again
.
"
I
want
you
to
stop
,
"
she
said
.
I
let
the
words
sink
into
the
darkened
room
.
"
Why
?
"
I
saw
her
lips
part
in
the
smile
,
heard
the
sound
her
mouth
made
as
it
split
.
"
Why
not
?
"
she
said
.
"
Well
.
"
I
sipped
at
my
drink
,
sluicing
the
alcohol
around
the
cuts
in
my
mouth
to
shut
down
my
hormones
.
"
To
begin
with
,
there
’
s
your
husband
.
He
’
s
made
it
pretty
clear
that
cutting
and
running
could
seriously
damage
my
health
,
Then
there
’
s
the
hundred
thousand
dollars
.
And
after
that
,
well
,
then
we
get
into
the
ethereal
realm
of
things
like
promises
and
my
word
.
And
to
be
honest
,
I
’
m
curious
.
"
"
A
hundred
thousand
isn
’
t
so
much
money
,
"
she
said
carefully
.
"
And
the
Protectorate
is
big
.
I
could
give
you
the
money
.
Find
a
place
for
you
to
go
where
Laurens
would
never
find
you
.
"
