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"
Warden
Sullivan
,
you
’
re
not
taking
this
in
the
spirit
it
’
s
intended
.
I
am
very
concerned
to
know
who
you
sold
me
to
.
I
’
m
not
going
to
go
away
,
just
because
you
have
some
residual
scruples
about
client
confidentiality
.
Believe
me
,
they
didn
’
t
pay
you
enough
to
hold
out
on
me
.
"
Sullivan
sat
back
up
,
wiping
at
the
blood
trickling
from
the
corner
of
his
mouth
.
To
his
credit
,
he
managed
a
bitter
smile
with
the
undamaged
portion
of
his
lips
.
"
You
think
I
haven
’
t
been
threatened
before
,
Kovacs
?
"
I
examined
the
hand
I
’
d
hit
him
with
.
"
I
think
you
’
ve
had
very
little
experience
of
personal
violence
,
and
that
’
s
going
to
be
a
disadvantage
.
I
’
m
going
to
give
you
the
chance
to
tell
me
what
I
want
to
know
here
and
now
.
After
that
we
go
somewhere
with
soundproofing
.
Now
,
who
sent
Trepp
?
"
"
You
’
re
a
thug
,
Kovacs
.
Nothing
but
—
"
I
snapped
folded
knuckles
across
the
table
and
into
his
left
eye
.
It
made
less
noise
than
the
slap
.
Sullivan
grunted
in
shock
and
reeled
away
from
the
blow
,
cowering
into
the
seat
.
I
watched
impassively
until
he
recovered
.
Something
cold
was
rising
in
me
,
something
born
on
the
benches
of
the
Newpest
justice
facility
and
tempered
with
the
years
of
pointless
unpleasantness
I
had
been
witness
to
.
I
hoped
Sullivan
wasn
’
t
as
tough
as
he
was
trying
to
appear
,
for
both
our
sakes
.
I
leaned
close
again
.
"
You
said
it
,
Sullivan
.
I
’
m
a
thug
.
Not
a
respectable
criminal
like
you
.
I
’
m
not
a
Meth
,
not
a
businessman
.
I
have
no
vested
interests
,
no
social
connections
,
no
purchased
respectability
.
It
’
s
just
me
,
and
you
’
re
in
my
way
.
So
let
’
s
start
again
.
Who
sent
Trepp
?
"
"
He
doesn
’
t
know
,
Kovacs
.
You
’
re
wasting
your
time
.
"
The
woman
’
s
voice
was
light
and
cheerful
,
pitched
a
little
loud
to
carry
from
the
door
where
she
stood
,
hands
in
the
pockets
of
a
long
black
coat
.
She
was
slim
and
pale
with
close
-
cropped
dark
hair
and
a
poise
to
the
way
she
stood
that
bespoke
combat
skills
.
Beneath
the
coat
she
wore
a
grey
quilted
tunic
that
looked
impact
resistant
and
matching
work
trousers
tucked
into
ankle
boots
.
A
single
silver
earring
in
the
shape
of
a
discarded
trode
cable
dangled
from
her
left
ear
.
She
appeared
to
be
alone
.
I
lowered
the
Philips
gun
slowly
,
and
without
acknowledging
that
it
had
ever
been
trained
on
her
she
took
the
cue
to
advance
casually
into
the
restaurant
.
The
young
men
in
silk
watched
her
every
step
of
the
way
,
but
if
she
was
aware
of
their
gazes
,
she
gave
no
sign
.
When
she
was
about
five
paces
from
our
booth
,
she
gave
me
a
look
of
enquiry
and
began
to
lift
her
hands
slowly
out
of
her
pockets
.
I
nodded
,
and
she
completed
the
movement
,
revealing
open
palms
and
fingers
set
with
rings
of
black
glass
.
