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- Ричард Морган
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It
was
basically
Caucasian
,
which
was
a
change
for
me
,
and
the
overwhelming
impression
I
got
was
that
if
there
was
a
line
of
least
resistance
in
life
,
this
face
had
never
been
along
it
.
Even
with
the
characteristic
pallor
of
a
long
stay
in
the
tank
,
the
features
in
the
mirror
managed
to
look
weather
-
beaten
.
There
were
lines
everywhere
.
The
thick
cropped
hair
was
black
shot
through
with
grey
.
The
eyes
were
a
speculative
shade
of
blue
,
and
there
was
a
faint
jagged
scar
under
the
left
one
.
I
raised
my
left
forearm
and
looked
at
the
story
written
there
,
wondering
if
the
two
were
connected
.
The
envelope
beneath
the
watch
contained
a
single
sheet
of
printed
paper
.
Hardcopy
.
Handwritten
signature
.
Very
quaint
.
Well
,
you
’
re
on
Earth
now
.
Most
ancient
of
civilised
worlds
.
I
shrugged
and
scanned
the
letter
,
then
got
dressed
and
folded
it
away
in
the
jacket
of
my
new
suit
.
With
a
final
glance
in
the
mirror
,
I
strapped
on
the
new
watch
and
went
out
to
meet
the
police
.
It
was
four
-
fifteen
,
local
time
.
The
doctor
was
waiting
for
me
,
seated
behind
a
long
curve
of
reception
counter
and
filling
out
forms
on
a
monitor
.
A
thin
,
severe
-
looking
man
suited
in
black
stood
at
her
shoulder
.
There
was
no
one
else
in
the
room
.
I
glanced
around
,
then
back
at
the
suit
.
"
You
the
police
?
"
"
Outside
.
"
He
gestured
at
the
door
.
"
This
isn
’
t
their
jurisdiction
.
They
need
a
special
brief
to
get
in
here
.
We
have
our
own
security
.
"
"
And
you
are
?
"
