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I
nodded
,
trying
to
wipe
away
the
skeins
of
memory
associated
with
the
ramen
,
but
unwilling
to
bring
the
Envoy
conditioning
online
and
spoil
the
sated
feeling
in
my
belly
.
Looking
around
at
the
clean
metal
lines
of
the
dining
gantry
and
the
sky
beyond
,
I
was
as
close
to
totally
contented
as
I
had
been
since
Miriam
Bancroft
left
me
drained
in
the
Hendrix
.
Ortega
’
s
phone
shrilled
.
She
unpocketed
it
and
answered
,
still
chewing
her
last
mouthful
.
"
Yeah
?
Uhuh
.
Uhuh
,
good
.
No
,
we
’
ll
go
.
"
Her
eyes
nickered
briefly
to
mine
.
"
That
so
?
No
,
leave
that
one
too
.
It
’
ll
keep
.
Yeah
,
thanks
Zak
.
Owe
you
one
.
"
She
stowed
the
phone
again
and
resumed
eating
.
"
Good
news
?
"
"
Depends
on
your
point
of
view
.
They
traced
the
two
local
calls
.
One
to
a
fightdrome
over
in
Richmond
,
place
I
know
.
We
’
ll
go
down
and
take
a
look
.
"
"
And
the
other
call
?
"
Ortega
looked
up
at
me
from
her
bowl
,
chewed
and
swallowed
"
The
other
number
was
a
residential
discreet
.
Bancroft
residence
.
Suntouch
House
.
Now
what
,
exactly
,
do
you
make
of
that
?
"
Ortega
’
s
fightdrome
was
an
ancient
bulk
carrier
,
moored
up
in
the
north
end
of
the
Bay
,
alongside
acres
of
abandoned
warehouses
.
The
vessel
must
have
been
over
half
a
kilometre
long
with
six
clearly
discernible
cargo
cells
between
stem
and
stern
.
The
one
at
the
rear
appeared
to
be
open
.
From
the
air
,
the
body
of
the
carrier
was
a
uniform
orange
that
I
assumed
was
rust
.
