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- Ричард Морган
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"
Some
time
soon
,
"
said
Ortega
.
"
Or
it
’
s
going
to
look
suspicious
.
"
Bautista
snorted
.
"
This
whole
fucking
thing
looks
suspicious
.
Anyone
at
Fell
Street
’
s
going
to
know
what
went
down
here
tonight
.
"
"
Do
this
sort
of
thing
a
lot
,
do
you
?
"
"
That
ain
’
t
funny
,
Kovacs
.
Carnage
went
over
the
line
,
he
knew
what
he
was
calling
down
.
"
"
Carnage
,
"
Ortega
muttered
.
"
That
motherfucker
’
s
got
himself
stored
somewhere
.
As
soon
as
he
gets
re
-
sleeved
,
he
’
s
going
to
be
screaming
for
an
investigation
.
"
"
Maybe
not
,
"
said
Bautista
.
"
How
long
ago
you
reckon
he
was
copied
into
that
synth
?
"
Ortega
shrugged
.
"
Who
knows
?
He
was
wearing
it
last
week
.
At
least
that
long
,
unless
he
had
the
store
copy
updated
.
And
that
’
s
fucking
expensive
.
"
"
If
I
were
someone
like
Carnage
,
"
I
said
thoughtfully
,
"
I
’
d
get
myself
updated
whenever
something
major
went
down
.
No
matter
what
it
cost
.
I
wouldn
’
t
want
to
wake
up
not
knowing
what
the
fuck
I
’
d
been
doing
the
week
before
I
got
torched
.
"
"
That
depends
on
what
you
were
doing
,
"
Bautista
pointed
out
.
"
If
it
was
some
seriously
illegal
shit
,
you
might
prefer
to
wake
up
not
knowing
about
it
.
That
way
,
you
polygraph
your
way
right
out
of
police
interrogation
with
a
smile
.
"
