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- Стр. 191/285
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The
ugliness
of
the
door
struck
Case
as
she
reached
for
it
.
Not
the
door
itself
,
which
was
beautiful
,
or
had
once
been
part
of
some
more
beautiful
whole
,
but
the
way
it
had
been
sawn
down
to
fit
a
particular
entrance
.
Even
the
shape
was
wrong
,
a
rectangle
amid
smooth
curves
of
polished
concrete
.
They
’
d
imported
these
things
,
he
thought
,
and
then
forced
it
all
to
fit
.
But
none
of
it
fit
.
The
door
was
like
the
awkward
cabinets
,
the
huge
crystal
tree
.
Then
he
remembered
3Jane
’
s
essay
,
and
imagined
that
the
fittings
had
been
hauled
up
the
well
to
flesh
out
some
master
plan
,
a
dream
long
lost
in
the
compulsive
effort
to
fill
space
,
to
replicate
some
family
image
of
self
.
He
remembered
the
shattered
nest
,
the
eyeless
things
writhing
.
.
.
Molly
grasped
one
of
the
carved
dragon
’
s
forelegs
and
the
door
swung
open
easily
.
The
room
behind
was
small
,
cramped
,
little
more
than
a
closet
.
Gray
steel
tool
cabinets
were
backed
against
a
curving
wall
.
A
light
fixture
had
come
on
automatically
.
She
closed
the
door
behind
her
and
went
to
the
ranged
lockers
.
THIRD
LEFT
,
pulsed
the
optic
chip
,
Wintermute
overriding
her
time
display
.
FIVE
DOWN
.
But
she
opened
the
top
drawer
first
.
It
was
no
more
than
a
shallow
tray
.
Empty
.
The
second
was
empty
as
well
.
The
third
,
which
was
deeper
,
contained
dull
beads
of
solder
and
a
small
brown
thing
that
looked
like
a
human
fingerbone
.
The
fourth
drawer
held
a
damp
-
swollen
copy
of
an
obsolete
technical
manual
in
French
and
Japanese
.
In
the
fifth
,
behind
the
armored
gauntlet
of
a
heavy
vacuum
suit
,
she
found
the
key
.
It
was
like
a
dull
brass
coin
with
a
short
hollow
tube
braised
against
one
edge
.
She
turned
it
slowly
in
her
hand
and
Case
saw
that
the
interior
of
the
tube
was
lined
with
studs
and
flanges
.
The
letters
CHUBB
were
molded
across
one
face
of
the
coin
.
The
other
was
blank
.
'
He
told
me
,
’
she
whispered
.
'
Wintermute
.
How
he
played
a
waiting
game
for
years
.
Didn
’
t
have
any
real
power
,
then
,
but
he
could
use
the
Villa
’
s
security
and
custodial
systems
to
keep
track
of
where
everything
was
,
how
things
moved
,
where
they
went
.
He
saw
somebody
lose
this
key
twenty
years
ago
,
and
he
managed
to
get
somebody
else
to
leave
it
here
.
Then
he
killed
him
,
the
boy
who
’
d
brought
it
here
.
Kid
was
eight
.
’
She
closed
her
white
fingers
over
the
key
.
'
So
nobody
would
find
it
.
’
She
took
a
length
of
black
nylon
cord
from
the
suit
’
s
kangaroo
pocket
and
threaded
it
through
the
round
hole
above
CHUBB
.
Knotting
it
,
she
hung
it
around
her
neck
.
'
They
were
always
fucking
him
over
with
how
old
-
fashioned
they
were
,
he
said
,
all
their
nineteenth
-
century
stuff
.
He
looked
just
like
the
Finn
,
on
the
screen
in
that
meat
puppet
hole
.
Almost
thought
he
wasthe
Finn
,
if
I
wasn
’
t
careful
.
’
Her
readout
flared
the
time
,
alphanumerics
superimposed
over
the
gray
steel
chests
.
'
He
said
if
they
’
d
turned
into
what
they
’
d
wanted
to
,
he
could
’
ve
gotten
out
a
long
time
ago
.
But
they
didn
’
t
.
Screwed
up
.
Freaks
like
3Jane
.
That
’
s
what
he
called
her
,
but
he
talked
like
he
liked
her
.
’
She
turned
,
opened
the
door
,
and
stepped
out
,
her
hand
brushing
the
checkered
grip
of
the
holstered
fletcher
.
Case
flipped
.
Kuang
Grade
Mark
Eleven
was
growing
.
