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- Ричард Морган
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Kadmin
shrugged
his
massive
shoulders
.
"
Well
,
third
time
lucky
,
they
say
.
Allow
me
to
show
you
something
.
"
He
gestured
in
the
air
beside
him
and
a
flap
of
the
desert
backdrop
peeled
away
from
a
blackness
beyond
.
The
screen
it
formed
sizzled
and
sprang
to
life
.
Close
focus
on
sleeping
features
.
Ortega
’
s
.
A
fist
snapped
closed
around
my
heart
.
Her
face
was
grey
and
bruised
-
looking
under
the
eyes
.
A
thin
thread
of
drool
ran
from
one
corner
of
her
mouth
.
Stunbolt
at
close
range
.
The
last
time
I
’
d
caught
a
full
stun
charge
was
courtesy
of
the
Millsport
Public
Order
police
and
,
although
the
Envoy
conditioning
had
forced
me
back
to
a
kind
of
consciousness
in
about
twenty
minutes
,
I
hadn
’
t
been
up
to
much
more
than
shivering
and
twitching
for
the
next
couple
of
hours
.
There
was
no
telling
how
long
ago
Ortega
had
been
hit
,
but
she
looked
bad
.
"
It
’
s
a
simple
exchange
,
"
said
Kadmin
.
"
You
for
her
.
I
’
m
parked
around
the
block
on
a
street
called
Minna
.
I
’
ll
be
there
for
the
next
five
minutes
.
Come
alone
,
or
I
blow
her
stack
out
the
back
of
her
neck
.
Your
choice
.
"
The
desert
fizzled
out
on
the
Patchwork
Man
smiling
.
I
made
the
two
corners
of
the
block
and
Minna
in
a
minute
flat
.
Two
weeks
without
smoking
was
like
a
newly
discovered
compartment
at
the
bottom
of
Ryker
’
s
lungs
.
It
was
a
sad
little
street
of
sealed
-
up
frontages
and
vacant
lots
.
There
was
no
one
around
.
The
only
vehicle
in
sight
was
a
matt
grey
cruiser
waiting
at
the
curb
,
lights
on
in
the
gathering
gloom
of
early
evening
.
I
approached
hesitantly
,
hand
on
the
butt
of
the
Nemex
.
When
I
was
five
metres
from
the
rear
of
the
cruiser
,
a
door
opened
and
Ortega
’
s
body
was
pitched
out
.
She
hit
the
street
like
a
sack
and
stayed
down
,
crumpled
.
I
cleared
the
Nemex
as
she
hit
and
circled
warily
round
towards
her
,
eyes
fixed
on
the
car
.
