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- Ричард Морган
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"
Don
’
t
let
it
fool
you
,
"
Ortega
grunted
as
we
circled
.
"
They
’
ve
polymered
the
hull
a
quarter
-
metre
thick
all
over
.
Take
a
shaped
charge
to
sink
it
now
.
"
"
Expensive
.
"
She
shrugged
.
"
They
’
ve
got
the
backing
.
"
We
landed
on
the
quay
.
Ortega
killed
the
motors
and
leaned
across
me
to
peer
up
at
the
ship
’
s
superstructure
,
which
at
a
glance
appeared
to
be
deserted
.
I
pushed
myself
back
into
the
seat
a
little
,
discomfited
in
equal
parts
by
the
pressure
of
the
lithe
torso
in
my
lap
and
my
slightly
overfull
stomach
.
She
felt
the
movement
,
seemed
suddenly
to
realise
what
she
was
doing
and
pulled
herself
abruptly
upright
again
.
"
No
one
home
,
"
she
said
awkwardly
.
"
So
it
seems
.
Shall
we
go
and
have
a
look
?
"
We
got
out
into
the
customary
blanket
-
snap
of
wind
off
the
Bay
and
made
for
a
tubular
aluminium
gangway
that
led
onto
the
vessel
near
the
stern
.
It
was
uncomfortably
open
ground
,
and
I
crossed
it
with
an
eye
constantly
sweeping
the
railed
and
craned
lines
of
the
ship
’
s
deck
and
bridge
tower
.
Nothing
stirred
.
I
squeezed
my
left
arm
lightly
against
my
side
to
check
the
Fibregrip
holster
hadn
’
t
slipped
down
,
as
the
cheaper
varieties
often
did
after
a
couple
of
days
’
wear
.
With
the
Nemex
I
was
tolerably
sure
I
could
air
out
anyone
shooting
at
us
from
the
rail
.
In
the
event
it
wasn
’
t
necessary
.
We
reached
the
end
of
the
gangway
without
incident
.
A
slim
chain
was
fixed
across
the
open
entrance
with
a
hand
-
lettered
sign
hung
on
it
.
PANAMA
ROSE
