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- Ричард Морган
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I
shrugged
.
"
Going
to
go
back
.
Going
to
do
what
I
’
m
told
.
"
I
changed
cabs
three
times
on
the
way
from
the
airport
,
paying
each
one
in
currency
,
and
then
booked
into
an
all
-
night
flophouse
in
Oakland
.
Anyone
tailing
me
electronically
was
going
to
take
a
little
while
to
catch
up
,
and
I
was
reasonably
sure
that
I
hadn
’
t
been
actually
followed
.
It
seemed
a
bit
like
paranoia
—
after
all
,
I
was
working
for
the
bad
guys
now
,
so
they
had
no
need
to
tail
me
.
But
I
hadn
’
t
liked
Trepp
’
s
ironic
keep
in
touch
as
she
saw
me
off
from
the
Bay
City
terminal
.
Also
,
I
wasn
’
t
sure
exactly
what
I
was
going
to
do
yet
,
and
if
I
didn
’
t
know
,
I
certainly
didn
’
t
want
anyone
else
knowing
either
.
The
flophouse
room
had
seven
hundred
and
eighty
-
six
screen
channels
,
holoporn
and
current
affairs
both
advertised
in
lurid
colours
on
the
standby
display
,
a
hinged
,
self
-
cleansing
double
bed
that
stank
of
disinfectant
and
a
self
-
contained
shower
stall
that
was
beginning
to
list
away
from
the
wall
it
had
once
been
epoxied
to
.
I
peered
out
of
the
single
grimy
window
.
It
was
the
middle
of
the
night
in
Bay
City
,
and
there
was
a
fine
,
misty
rain
falling
.
My
deadline
with
Ortega
was
running
out
.
The
window
gave
onto
a
sloping
fibrecrete
roof
about
ten
metres
below
.
The
street
was
as
far
below
again
.
Overhead
,
a
pagoda
-
like
upper
level
screened
the
lower
roof
and
street
under
long
eaves
.
Covered
space
.
After
a
moment
’
s
debate
,
I
pressed
the
last
of
Trepp
’
s
hangover
capsules
out
of
the
foil
and
swallowed
it
,
then
opened
the
window
as
quietly
as
I
could
,
swung
out
and
hung
by
my
fingers
from
the
lower
frame
.
Fully
extended
,
I
still
had
the
best
part
of
eight
metres
to
fall
.
Go
primitive
.
Well
,
you
don
’
t
get
much
more
primitive
than
climbing
out
of
hotel
windows
in
the
middle
of
the
night
.
Hoping
the
roof
was
as
solid
as
it
looked
,
I
let
go
.
I
hit
the
sloping
surface
in
approved
fashion
,
rolled
to
one
side
and
abruptly
found
my
legs
hanging
out
into
space
once
more
.
The
surface
was
firm
,
but
as
slippery
as
fresh
belaweed
and
I
was
slithering
rapidly
towards
the
edge
.
I
ground
my
elbows
down
for
purchase
,
found
none
and
just
managed
to
grab
the
sharp
edge
of
the
roof
in
one
hand
as
I
went
over
.
Ten
-
metres
to
the
street
.
With
the
roof
edge
slicing
into
my
palm
,
I
dangled
by
one
arm
for
a
moment
,
trying
to
identify
possible
obstacles
to
my
fall
,
like
trash
bins
or
parked
vehicles
,
then
gave
up
and
dropped
anyway
.
The
paving
beneath
came
up
and
smacked
me
hard
,
but
there
was
nothing
sharp
to
compound
the
impact
and
when
I
rolled
it
was
not
into
the
feared
assembly
of
trash
bins
.
I
got
up
and
made
for
the
nearest
shadows
.
Ten
minutes
and
a
random
sampling
of
streets
later
,
I
came
upon
a
rank
of
idling
autocabs
,
stepped
swiftly
out
from
my
current
piece
of
overhead
cover
and
got
into
the
fifth
in
line
.
I
recited
Ortega
’
s
discreet
code
as
we
lifted
into
the
air
.
