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'
That
chip
of
yours
still
working
?
’
Case
asked
her
.
'
It
’
s
eight
twenty
-
five
,
PM
,
Greenwich
fucking
Mean
,
’
she
said
.
'
We
got
five
minutes
,
’
Case
said
,
as
the
door
snapped
open
behind
3Jane
.
She
flipped
backward
in
a
slow
somersault
,
the
pale
folds
of
her
djellaba
billowing
around
her
thighs
.
They
were
at
the
axis
,
the
core
of
Villa
Straylight
.
Molly
fished
the
key
out
on
its
loop
of
nylon
.
'
You
know
,
’
3Jane
said
,
craning
forward
with
interest
,
'
I
was
under
the
impression
that
no
duplicate
existed
.
I
sent
Hideo
to
search
my
father
’
s
things
,
after
you
killed
him
.
He
couldn
’
t
find
the
original
.
’
'
Wintermute
managed
to
get
it
stuck
in
the
back
of
a
drawer
,
’
Molly
said
,
carefully
inserting
the
Chubb
key
’
s
cylindrical
shaft
into
the
notched
opening
in
the
face
of
the
blank
,
rectangular
door
.
'
He
killed
the
little
kid
who
put
it
there
.
’
The
key
rotated
smoothly
when
she
tried
it
.
'
The
head
,
’
Case
said
,
'
there
’
s
a
panel
in
the
back
of
the
head
.
Zircons
on
it
.
Get
it
off
.
That
’
s
where
I
’
m
jacking
in
.
’
And
then
they
were
inside
.
'
Christ
on
a
crutch
,
’
the
Flatline
drawled
,
'
you
do
believe
in
takin
’
your
own
good
time
,
don
’
t
you
,
boy
?
’
