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'
Get
used
to
it
.
I
was
a
gambler
’
s
bodyguard
here
for
a
month
.
’
'
Wanna
go
somewhere
,
lie
down
.
’
'
Okay
.
I
got
our
keys
.
’
She
touched
his
shoulder
.
'
What
happened
to
you
,
back
there
,
man
?
You
flatlined
.
’
He
shook
his
head
.
'
I
dunno
,
yet
.
Wait
.
’
'
Okay
.
We
get
a
cab
or
something
.
’
She
took
his
hand
and
led
him
across
Jules
Verne
,
past
a
window
displaying
the
season
’
s
Paris
furs
.
'
Unreal
,
’
he
said
,
looking
up
again
.
'
Nah
,
’
she
responded
,
assuming
he
meant
the
furs
,
'
grow
it
on
a
collagen
base
,
but
it
’
s
mink
DNA
.
What
’
s
it
matter
?
’
'
It
’
s
just
a
big
tube
and
they
pour
things
through
it
,
’
Molly
said
.
'
Tourists
,
hustlers
,
anything
.
And
there
’
s
fine
mesh
money
screens
working
every
minute
,
make
sure
the
money
stays
here
when
the
people
fall
back
down
the
well
.
’
Armitage
had
booked
them
into
a
place
called
the
Intercontinental
,
a
sloping
glass
-
fronted
cliff
face
that
slid
down
into
cold
mist
and
the
sound
of
rapids
.
Case
went
out
onto
their
balcony
and
watched
a
trio
of
tanned
French
teenagers
ride
simple
hang
gliders
a
few
meters
above
the
spray
,
triangles
of
nylon
in
bright
primary
colors
.
One
of
them
swung
,
banked
,
and
Case
caught
a
flash
of
cropped
dark
hair
,
brown
breasts
,
white
teeth
in
a
wide
smile
.
The
air
here
smelled
of
running
water
and
flowers
.
'
Yeah
,
’
he
said
,
'
lotta
money
.
’
