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- Ричард Морган
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I
looked
out
into
the
evening
beyond
the
door
and
picked
out
the
solitary
figure
at
the
rail
.
"
He
owns
this
place
,
right
?
"
"
Yeah
.
For
his
sins
.
"
The
datarat
cracked
a
grin
and
gestured
around
.
"
Not
much
call
for
him
to
be
in
the
office
,
business
the
way
it
is
.
"
I
thanked
him
and
went
back
out
onto
the
street
.
The
light
was
starting
to
fade
now
,
and
Anchana
Salomao
’
s
holographic
face
was
gaining
a
new
dominance
in
the
gathering
gloom
.
Crossing
beneath
one
of
the
banners
,
I
came
up
next
to
the
man
on
the
rail
and
leaned
my
own
arms
on
the
black
iron
.
He
looked
round
as
I
joined
him
and
gave
me
a
nod
of
acknowledgement
,
then
went
back
to
staring
at
the
horizon
as
if
he
was
looking
for
a
crack
in
the
weld
between
sea
and
sky
.
"
That
’
s
a
pretty
grim
piece
of
parking
,
"
I
said
,
gesturing
out
at
the
wreck
.
It
earned
me
a
speculative
look
before
he
answered
me
.
"
They
say
it
was
terrorists
.
"
His
voice
was
empty
,
disinterested
,
as
if
he
’
d
once
put
too
much
effort
into
using
it
and
something
had
broken
.
"
Or
sonar
failure
in
a
storm
.
Maybe
both
.
"
"
Maybe
they
did
it
for
the
insurance
,
"
I
said
.
Elliott
looked
at
me
again
,
more
sharply
.
"
You
’
re
not
from
here
?
"
he
asked
,
a
fraction
more
interest
edging
his
tone
this
time
.
"
No
.
Passing
through
.
"
"
From
Rio
?
"
He
gestured
up
at
Anchana
Salomao
as
he
said
it
.
"
You
an
artist
?
"
