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- Ричард Морган
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"
Where
I
come
from
,
criminals
stay
out
of
other
people
’
s
fights
.
They
’
re
a
gutless
lot
,
generally
.
Much
more
likely
to
get
interference
from
a
solid
citizen
.
"
"
Not
around
here
.
Most
solid
citizens
around
here
are
a
little
too
solid
to
get
involved
in
a
brawl
on
some
stranger
’
s
behalf
.
The
way
they
figure
it
,
that
’
s
what
the
police
are
for
.
You
’
re
from
Harlan
’
s
World
,
right
?
"
"
That
’
s
right
.
"
"
Maybe
it
’
s
that
Quellist
thing
,
then
.
You
reckon
?
"
"
Maybe
.
"
An
autocab
came
spiralling
down
through
the
rain
in
response
to
the
pager
.
Trepp
stood
aside
at
the
open
hatch
and
made
an
irony
of
demonstrating
the
empty
compartment
within
.
I
smiled
thinly
.
"
After
you
.
"
"
Suit
yourself
.
"
She
climbed
aboard
and
moved
over
to
let
me
in
.
I
settled
back
on
the
seat
opposite
her
and
watched
her
hands
.
When
she
saw
where
I
was
looking
,
she
grinned
and
spread
her
arms
cruciform
along
the
back
of
the
seat
.
The
hatch
hinged
down
,
shedding
rain
in
sliding
sheets
.
"
Welcome
to
Urbline
services
,
"
said
the
cab
smoothly
.
"
Please
state
your
destination
.
"
"
Airport
,
"
said
Trepp
,
lounging
back
in
her
seat
and
looking
for
my
reaction
.
"
Private
carriers
’
terminal
.
"
