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- Ричард Морган
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The
holding
racks
were
five
floors
down
in
a
double
-
storey
basement
where
it
was
easier
to
regulate
temperatures
.
Compared
to
PsychaSec
,
it
was
a
toilet
.
"
I
don
’
t
see
that
this
is
going
to
change
anything
,
"
said
Ortega
as
we
followed
a
yawning
technician
along
the
steel
gantry
to
slot
3089b
.
"
What
’
s
Kadmin
going
to
tell
you
that
he
hasn
’
t
told
us
?
"
"
Look
.
"
I
stopped
and
turned
to
face
her
,
hands
spread
and
held
low
.
On
the
narrow
gantry
we
were
uncomfortably
close
.
Something
chemical
happened
,
and
the
geometries
of
Ortega
’
s
stance
seemed
suddenly
fluid
,
dangerously
tactile
.
I
felt
my
mouth
dry
up
.
"
I
—
"
she
said
.
"
3089b
,
"
called
the
technician
,
hefting
the
big
,
thirty
-
centimetre
disc
out
of
its
slot
.
"
This
the
one
you
wanted
,
lieutenant
?
"
Ortega
pushed
hurriedly
past
me
.
"
That
’
s
it
,
Micky
.
Can
you
set
us
up
with
a
virtual
?
"
"
Sure
.
"
Micky
jerked
a
thumb
at
one
of
the
spiral
staircases
collared
in
at
intervals
along
the
gantry
.
"
You
want
to
go
down
to
Five
,
slap
on
the
trodes
.
Take
about
five
minutes
.
"
"
The
point
is
,
"
I
said
,
as
the
three
of
us
clattered
down
the
steel
steps
,
"
you
’
re
the
Sia
.
Kadmin
knows
you
,
he
’
s
been
dealing
with
you
all
his
professional
life
.
It
’
s
part
of
what
he
does
.
I
’
m
an
unknown
.
If
he
’
s
never
been
extra
-
system
,
the
chances
are
he
’
s
never
met
an
Envoy
before
.
And
they
tell
nasty
stories
about
the
Corps
most
places
I
’
ve
been
.
"
Ortega
gave
me
a
sceptical
look
over
her
shoulder
.
"
You
’
re
going
to
frighten
him
into
a
statement
?
Dimitri
Kadmin
?
I
don
’
t
think
so
.
"
