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"
DNA
trace
.
First
Colony
Bank
of
California
.
"
The
payment
details
were
scrolling
out
when
I
felt
a
cold
circle
of
metal
touch
the
base
of
my
skull
.
"
That
’
s
exactly
what
you
think
it
is
,
"
said
a
calm
voice
.
"
You
do
the
wrong
thing
,
and
the
cops
are
going
to
be
picking
bits
of
your
cortical
stack
out
of
that
wall
for
weeks
.
I
’
m
talking
about
real
death
,
friend
.
Now
,
lift
your
hands
away
from
your
body
.
"
I
complied
,
feeling
an
unaccustomed
chill
shoot
up
my
spine
to
the
point
the
gun
muzzle
was
touching
.
It
was
a
while
since
I
’
d
been
threatened
with
real
death
.
"
That
’
s
good
,
"
said
the
same
calm
voice
.
"
Now
,
my
associate
here
is
going
to
pat
you
down
.
You
let
her
do
that
,
and
no
sudden
moves
.
"
"
Please
key
your
DNA
signature
onto
the
pad
beside
this
screen
.
"
The
hotel
had
accessed
First
Colony
’
s
database
.
I
waited
impassively
while
a
slim
,
black
-
clad
woman
in
a
ski
mask
stepped
around
and
ran
a
purring
grey
scanner
over
me
from
head
to
foot
.
The
gun
at
my
neck
never
wavered
.
It
was
no
longer
cold
.
My
flesh
had
warmed
it
to
a
more
intimate
temperature
.
"
He
’
s
clean
.
"
Another
crisp
,
professional
voice
.
"
Basic
neurachem
,
but
it
’
s
inoperative
.
No
hardware
.
"
"
Really
?
Travelling
kind
of
light
,
aren
’
t
you
Kovacs
?
"
My
heart
dropped
out
of
my
chest
and
landed
soggily
in
my
guts
.
I
’
d
hoped
this
was
just
local
crime
.
