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- Ричард Морган
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The
clinking
of
glasses
from
the
door
brought
me
round
.
Ortega
was
standing
in
the
doorway
wearing
a
NO
TO
RESOLUTION
653
T
-
shirt
on
which
the
NO
had
been
stylistically
daubed
out
with
a
red
cross
and
overwritten
with
a
definitive
YES
in
the
same
colour
.
The
columns
of
her
naked
legs
disappeared
under
the
T
-
shirt
as
if
they
might
conceivably
go
on
for
ever
inside
.
Balanced
in
her
hands
was
a
large
tray
laden
with
breakfast
for
an
entire
squadroom
.
Seeing
me
awake
,
she
tossed
hair
out
of
her
eyes
and
grinned
crookedly
.
So
I
told
her
everything
.
"
So
what
are
you
going
to
do
?
"
I
shrugged
and
stared
out
across
the
water
,
narrowing
my
eyes
against
the
glare
.
The
ocean
seemed
flatter
,
more
ponderous
than
it
does
on
Harlan
’
s
World
.
Up
on
deck
,
the
immensity
of
it
sank
in
and
the
yacht
was
suddenly
a
child
’
s
toy
.
"
I
’
m
going
to
do
what
Kawahara
wants
.
What
Miriam
Bancroft
wants
.
What
you
want
.
What
apparently
everyone
fucking
wants
.
I
’
m
going
to
kill
the
case
.
"
"
You
think
Kawahara
torched
Bancroft
?
"
"
Seems
likely
.
Or
she
’
s
shielding
someone
who
did
.
Doesn
’
t
matter
anymore
.
She
’
s
got
Sarah
,
that
’
s
all
that
counts
now
.
"
"
We
could
hit
her
with
abduction
charges
.
Retention
of
d
.
h
.
personality
carries
—
"
"
Fifty
to
a
hundred
,
yeah
.
"
I
smiled
faintly
.
"
I
was
listening
last
night
.
But
she
won
’
t
be
holding
directly
,
it
’
ll
be
some
subsidiary
.
"
"
We
can
get
warrants
that
—
"
