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- Ричард Морган
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At
that
,
Kadmin
’
s
eyes
turned
up
to
meet
hers
,
and
a
small
,
peculiarly
unpleasant
smile
twisted
his
lips
.
We
left
.
Back
on
the
fourth
floor
,
the
walls
of
Ortega
’
s
office
had
reverted
to
a
dazzling
high
noon
over
beaches
of
white
sand
.
I
screwed
up
my
eyes
against
the
glare
while
Ortega
trawled
through
a
desk
drawer
and
came
up
with
her
own
and
a
spare
pair
of
sunglasses
.
"
So
what
did
you
learn
from
that
?
"
I
fitted
the
lenses
uncomfortably
over
the
bridge
of
my
nose
.
They
were
too
small
.
"
Not
much
,
except
that
little
gem
about
not
having
orders
to
wipe
me
.
Someone
wanted
to
talk
to
me
.
I
’
d
pretty
much
guessed
that
anyway
,
else
he
could
have
just
blown
my
stack
out
all
over
the
lobby
of
the
Hendrix
.
Still
,
means
someone
wanted
to
cut
a
deal
of
their
own
,
outside
of
Bancroft
.
"
"
Or
someone
wanted
to
interrogate
the
guts
out
of
you
.
"
I
shook
my
head
.
"
About
what
?
I
’
d
only
just
arrived
.
Doesn
’
t
make
any
sense
.
"
"
The
Corps
?
Unfinished
business
?
"
Ortega
made
little
flicking
motions
with
her
hand
as
if
she
were
dealing
me
the
suggestions
.
"
Maybe
a
grudge
match
?
"
"
No
.
We
went
through
this
one
when
we
were
yelling
at
each
other
the
other
night
.
There
are
people
who
’
d
like
to
see
me
wiped
,
but
none
of
them
live
on
Earth
,
and
none
of
them
swing
the
kind
of
influence
to
go
interstellar
.
And
there
’
s
nothing
I
know
about
the
Corps
that
isn
’
t
in
a
low
-
wall
datastack
somewhere
.
And
anyway
,
it
’
s
just
too
much
of
a
fucking
coincidence
.
No
,
this
is
about
Bancroft
.
Someone
wanted
in
on
the
program
.
"
