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- Ричард Морган
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"
Come
to
help
out
.
"
Trepp
glanced
up
as
something
rattled
in
the
restaurant
.
The
waiter
had
arrived
bearing
a
tray
with
a
large
teapot
and
two
handleless
cups
.
"
You
order
this
?
"
"
Yeah
.
Help
yourself
.
"
"
Thanks
,
I
love
this
stuff
.
"
Trepp
waited
while
the
waiter
deposited
everything
,
then
busied
herself
with
the
teapot
.
"
Sullivan
,
you
want
a
cup
too
?
Hey
,
bring
him
another
cup
,
would
you
.
Thanks
.
Now
,
where
was
I
?
"
"
You
’
d
come
to
help
out
,
"
I
said
pointedly
.
"
Yeah
.
"
Trepp
sipped
at
the
green
tea
and
looked
at
me
over
the
rim
of
the
cup
.
"
That
’
s
right
.
I
’
m
here
to
clarify
things
.
See
,
you
’
re
trying
to
hammer
the
information
out
of
Sullivan
here
.
And
he
doesn
’
t
know
fuck
all
.
His
contact
was
me
,
so
here
I
am
.
Talk
to
me
.
"
I
looked
at
her
levelly
.
"
I
killed
you
last
week
,
Trepp
.
"
"
Yeah
,
so
they
tell
me
.
"
Trepp
set
down
the
tea
cup
and
looked
critically
at
her
own
fingerbones
.
"
‘
Course
,
I
don
’
t
remember
that
.
In
fact
,
I
don
’
t
even
know
you
,
Kovacs
.
Last
thing
I
remember
was
putting
myself
into
the
tank
about
a
month
back
.
Everything
after
that
’
s
gone
.
The
me
you
torched
in
that
cruiser
,
she
’
s
dead
.
That
wasn
’
t
me
.
So
,
no
hard
feelings
,
huh
?
"
"
No
remote
storage
,
Trepp
?
"
She
snorted
.
"
Are
you
kidding
?
I
make
a
living
doing
this
,
same
as
you
,
but
not
that
much
.
Anyway
,
who
needs
that
remote
shit
?
The
way
I
figure
it
,
you
fuck
up
,
you
’
ve
got
to
pay
some
kind
of
tab
for
it
.
I
fucked
up
with
you
,
right
?
"
