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"
I
’
m
glad
you
appreciate
it
.
"
Bancroft
got
to
his
feet
.
"
As
I
said
,
it
has
been
a
busy
morning
,
and
negotiations
are
by
no
means
at
an
end
.
I
would
be
grateful
if
you
could
limit
your
depredations
somewhat
in
future
.
It
has
been
costly
"
Getting
to
my
feet
,
just
for
a
moment
I
had
the
traceries
of
fire
at
Innenin
across
the
back
of
my
vision
,
the
screaming
deaths
heard
at
a
level
that
was
bone
deep
,
and
suddenly
Bancroft
’
s
elegant
understatement
rang
sickly
and
grotesque
,
like
the
antiseptic
words
of
General
MacIntyre
’
s
damage
reports
…
for
securing
the
Innenin
beachhead
,
a
price
well
worth
paying
…
Like
Bancroft
,
MacIntyre
had
been
a
man
of
power
,
and
like
all
men
of
power
,
when
he
talked
of
prices
worth
paying
,
you
could
be
sure
of
one
thing
.
Someone
else
was
paying
.
The
Fell
Street
station
was
an
unassuming
block
done
out
in
a
style
I
assumed
must
be
Martian
Baroque
.
Whether
it
had
been
planned
that
way
,
as
a
police
station
,
or
taken
over
after
the
fact
was
difficult
to
decide
.
The
place
was
,
potentially
,
a
fortress
.
The
mock
-
eroded
rubystone
facings
and
hooded
buttresses
provided
a
series
of
natural
niches
in
which
were
set
high
,
stained
glass
windows
edged
by
the
unobtrusive
nubs
of
shield
generators
.
Below
the
windows
,
the
abrasive
red
surface
of
the
stonework
was
sculpted
into
jagged
obstructions
that
caught
the
morning
light
and
turned
it
bloody
.
I
couldn
’
t
tell
whether
the
steps
up
to
the
arched
entrance
were
deliberately
uneven
or
just
well
worn
.
Inside
,
stained
light
from
a
window
and
a
peculiar
calm
fell
on
me
simultaneously
.
Subsonics
,
I
guessed
,
casting
a
glance
around
at
the
human
flotsam
waiting
submissively
on
the
benches
.
If
these
were
arrested
suspects
,
they
had
been
rendered
remarkably
unconcerned
by
something
and
I
doubted
it
would
be
the
Zen
Populist
murals
that
someone
had
commissioned
for
the
hall
.
I
crossed
the
patch
of
coloured
light
cast
by
the
window
,
picked
my
way
through
small
knots
of
people
conversing
in
lowered
tones
more
appropriate
to
a
library
than
a
holding
centre
,
and
found
myself
at
a
reception
counter
.
A
uniformed
cop
,
presumably
the
desk
sergeant
,
blinked
kindly
back
at
me
—
the
subsonics
were
obviously
getting
to
him
as
well
.
"
Lieutenant
Ortega
,
"
I
told
him
.
"
Organic
Damage
.
"
"
Who
shall
I
say
it
is
?
"
"
Tell
her
it
’
s
Elias
Ryker
.
"
