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- Ричард Морган
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- Стр. 471/560
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She
was
silent
for
a
couple
of
moments
,
whistling
through
her
teeth
at
odd
moments
as
she
keyed
in
the
images
she
had
constructed
.
Then
she
cast
a
glance
at
me
over
her
shoulder
.
"
You
say
I
’
m
earning
juice
from
these
guys
,
doing
this
.
They
’
re
going
to
owe
me
?
"
"
Yeah
,
I
’
d
say
so
.
"
"
Then
I
’
ll
contact
them
.
Get
me
the
officer
in
charge
,
I
’
ll
talk
to
whoever
that
is
.
And
don
’
t
try
to
call
me
at
Ember
,
I
won
’
t
be
there
either
.
"
I
said
nothing
,
just
looked
at
her
.
She
turned
back
to
her
work
.
"
I
need
some
time
alone
,
"
she
muttered
.
Just
the
words
sounded
like
a
luxury
to
me
.
I
watched
him
pour
a
drink
from
the
bottle
of
fifteen
-
year
-
old
malt
,
take
it
to
the
phone
and
seat
himself
carefully
.
The
broken
ribs
had
been
welded
back
together
in
one
of
the
ambulances
,
but
the
whole
of
that
side
was
still
one
huge
ache
,
with
occasional
,
flinty
stabs
of
agony
.
He
sipped
at
the
whisky
,
gathered
himself
visibly
and
punched
out
the
call
.
"
Bancroft
residence
.
With
whom
do
you
wish
to
speak
?
"
It
was
the
severely
-
suited
woman
who
had
answered
last
time
I
called
Suntouch
House
.
The
same
suit
,
the
same
hair
,
even
the
same
make
-
up
.
Maybe
she
was
a
phone
construct
.
"
Miriam
Bancroft
,
"
he
said
.
