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- Ричард Морган
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The
rapidly
flaring
,
irritable
rage
shrank
back
to
nothing
inside
me
as
the
words
left
her
mouth
.
It
was
as
if
she
’
d
emptied
a
bucket
of
seawater
over
my
head
.
"
Oh
.
"
"
Yes
,
there
wasn
’
t
much
.
"
Ortega
turned
away
,
hugging
her
own
shoulders
in
the
kimono
,
and
moved
past
me
to
the
unexplored
doorway
.
"
You
’
re
the
only
guest
there
at
the
moment
.
So
it
’
s
just
been
you
.
And
your
visitors
.
"
I
followed
her
through
into
a
second
,
carpeted
room
where
two
steps
led
down
to
a
narrow
sunken
galley
behind
a
low
,
wood
-
panelled
partition
at
one
side
.
The
other
walls
held
similarly
covered
items
of
furniture
to
the
first
room
,
except
for
the
far
corner
,
where
the
plastic
sheeting
had
been
pulled
off
a
metre
-
square
video
screen
and
attendant
receiver
/
playback
modules
.
A
single
,
straight
-
backed
chair
was
positioned
in
front
of
the
screen
on
which
was
frozen
the
unmistakable
image
of
Elias
Ryker
’
s
face
delving
between
Miriam
Bancroft
’
s
widespread
thighs
.
"
There
’
s
a
remote
on
the
chair
,
"
said
Ortega
,
herself
remote
.
"
Why
don
’
t
you
watch
some
of
it
while
I
make
you
a
coffee
?
Refresh
your
memory
.
Then
you
can
do
some
explaining
.
"
She
disappeared
into
the
galley
without
giving
me
the
chance
to
reply
.
I
advanced
on
the
frozen
video
screen
,
feeling
a
small
liquid
slide
in
my
guts
as
the
image
brought
back
memories
tinged
with
Merge
Nine
.
In
the
sleepless
,
chaotic
whirl
of
the
last
day
and
a
half
,
I
had
all
but
forgotten
Miriam
Bancroft
,
but
now
she
came
back
to
me
in
the
flesh
,
overpowering
and
intoxicating
as
she
had
been
that
night
.
I
’
d
also
forgotten
Rodrigo
Bautista
’
s
claim
that
they
were
almost
through
the
legal
wrangles
with
the
Hendrix
’
s
lawyers
.
My
foot
knocked
against
something
and
I
looked
down
at
the
carpet
.
There
was
a
coffee
mug
on
the
floor
next
to
the
chair
,
still
a
third
full
.
I
wondered
how
much
of
the
hotel
’
s
memory
Ortega
had
gone
through
.
I
glanced
at
the
image
on
screen
.
Was
this
as
far
as
she
’
d
got
?
What
else
had
she
seen
?
How
to
play
this
,
then
?
I
picked
up
the
remote
and
turned
it
over
in
my
hands
.
Ortega
’
s
cooperation
had
been
an
integral
part
of
my
planning
so
far
.
If
I
was
going
to
lose
her
now
,
I
was
in
trouble
.
Scratching
around
inside
me
was
something
else
.
An
emotional
upwelling
that
I
didn
’
t
want
to
acknowledge
,
because
to
acknowledge
it
would
be
a
clinical
absurdity
.
A
feeling
that
,
despite
my
preoccupation
with
later
factors
in
the
hotel
’
s
memory
,
was
tied
intimately
to
the
image
currently
on
screen
.
Embarrassment
.
Shame
.
