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"
But
you
—
"
"
I
’
m
going
to
need
some
time
to
sort
this
out
,
Ortega
.
"
I
spun
my
cigarette
into
the
gutter
and
grimaced
as
I
tasted
the
inside
of
my
own
mouth
.
"
Today
,
maybe
tomorrow
too
.
Check
the
stack
.
Kadmin
’
s
gone
.
If
I
were
you
,
I
’
d
keep
your
head
down
for
a
while
.
"
Ortega
pulled
a
sour
face
.
"
You
telling
me
to
go
undercover
in
my
own
city
?
"
"
Not
telling
you
to
do
anything
.
"
I
pulled
out
the
Nemex
and
ejected
the
half
-
spent
magazine
with
actions
almost
as
automatic
as
the
smoking
had
been
.
The
clip
went
into
my
jacket
pocket
"
I
’
m
giving
you
the
state
of
play
.
We
’
ll
need
somewhere
to
meet
.
Not
the
Hendrix
.
And
not
anywhere
you
can
be
traced
to
either
.
Don
’
t
tell
me
,
just
write
it
down
.
"
I
nodded
at
the
crowd
beyond
the
barriers
.
"
Anybody
down
there
with
decent
implants
could
have
this
conversation
focused
and
amped
.
"
"
Jesus
.
"
She
blew
out
her
cheeks
.
"
That
’
s
technoparanoia
,
Kovacs
.
"
"
Don
’
t
tell
me
that
.
I
used
to
do
this
for
a
living
.
"
She
thought
about
it
for
a
moment
,
then
produced
a
pen
and
scribbled
on
the
side
of
the
cigarette
packet
.
I
fished
a
fresh
magazine
from
my
pocket
and
jacked
it
into
the
Nemex
,
eyes
still
scanning
the
crowd
.
"
There
you
go
.
"
Ortega
tossed
me
the
packet
.
"
That
’
s
a
discreet
destination
code
.
Feed
it
to
any
taxi
in
the
Bay
area
and
it
’
ll
take
you
there
.
I
’
ll
be
there
tonight
,
tomorrow
night
.
After
that
,
it
’
s
back
to
business
as
usual
.
"
I
caught
the
packet
left
-
handed
,
glanced
briefly
at
the
numbers
and
put
it
away
in
my
jacket
.
Then
I
snapped
the
slide
on
the
Nemex
to
chamber
the
first
slug
and
stuffed
the
pistol
back
into
its
holster
.
