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- Ричард Морган
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Once
,
on
a
rare
evening
when
I
was
both
straight
and
alone
at
Watanabe
’
s
,
I
swallowed
enough
of
my
adolescent
pride
to
ask
the
old
man
for
his
advice
.
I
’
d
been
reading
UN
armed
forces
promotional
literature
for
weeks
,
and
I
needed
someone
to
push
me
one
way
or
the
other
.
Watanabe
just
grinned
at
me
around
the
stem
of
his
pipe
.
"
I
should
advise
you
?
"
he
asked
.
"
Share
with
you
the
wisdom
that
brought
me
to
this
?
"
We
both
looked
around
the
little
bar
and
the
fields
beyond
the
deck
.
"
Well
,
uh
,
yes
.
"
"
Well
,
uh
,
no
,
"
he
said
firmly
,
and
resumed
his
pipe
.
"
Kovacs
?
"
I
blinked
and
found
Ortega
in
front
of
me
,
looking
curiously
into
my
eyes
.
"
Something
I
need
to
know
about
?
"
I
smiled
faintly
and
glanced
around
at
the
kitchen
’
s
shining
steel
counters
.
"
Not
really
.
"
"
It
’
s
good
food
,
"
she
said
,
misinterpreting
the
look
.
