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- Ричард Морган
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Beside
the
bed
was
a
simple
wooden
chair
with
a
white
T
-
shirt
and
canvas
trousers
folded
neatly
over
it
.
There
were
rope
sandals
on
the
floor
.
The
tiny
cabin
held
nothing
else
of
interest
apart
from
another
bunk
,
the
twin
of
mine
,
whose
covers
were
thrown
carelessly
back
,
and
a
door
.
A
bit
crude
,
but
the
message
was
clear
.
I
slipped
into
the
clothes
and
walked
out
onto
the
sunlit
deck
of
a
small
fishing
boat
.
"
Aha
,
the
dreamer
.
"
The
woman
seated
in
the
stern
of
the
skiff
clapped
her
hands
together
as
I
emerged
.
She
was
about
ten
years
older
than
the
sleeve
I
was
wearing
,
and
darkly
handsome
in
a
suit
cut
from
the
same
linen
as
my
trousers
.
There
were
espadrilles
on
her
bare
feet
and
wide
-
lensed
sunglasses
over
her
eyes
.
In
her
lap
was
a
sketch
pad
shaded
with
what
looked
like
a
cityscape
.
As
I
stood
there
,
she
set
it
aside
and
stood
up
to
greet
me
.
Her
movements
were
elegant
,
self
assured
.
I
felt
gawky
by
comparison
.
I
looked
over
the
side
at
the
blue
water
.
"
What
is
it
this
time
?
"
I
said
with
forced
lightness
.
"
Feed
me
to
the
sharks
?
"
She
laughed
,
showing
perfect
teeth
.
"
No
,
that
won
’
t
be
necessary
at
this
stage
.
All
I
want
to
do
is
talk
.
"
I
stood
loose
limbed
,
staring
at
her
.
"
So
talk
.
"
"
Very
well
.
"
The
woman
folded
herself
gracefully
back
onto
the
seat
at
the
stern
.
"
You
have
involved
yourself
in
matters
that
are
clearly
not
your
affair
,
and
you
have
suffered
as
a
result
.
My
interest
is
,
I
think
,
identical
to
yours
.
That
is
,
to
avoid
further
unpleasantness
.
"
"
My
interest
is
in
seeing
you
die
.
"
A
small
smile
.
"
Yes
,
I
’
m
sure
it
is
.
Even
a
virtual
death
would
probably
be
very
satisfying
.
