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'
Souvenir
,
’
Molly
said
.
'
I
noticed
you
were
always
looking
at
’
em
.
’
He
turned
and
saw
her
sitting
crosslegged
on
the
bed
,
sleepily
scratching
her
stomach
with
burgundy
nails
.
'
Someone
’
s
coming
later
to
secure
the
place
,
’
Armitage
said
.
He
stood
in
the
open
doorway
with
an
old
-
fashioned
magnetic
key
in
his
hand
.
Molly
was
making
coffee
on
a
tiny
German
stove
she
took
from
her
bag
.
'
I
can
do
it
,
’
she
said
.
'
I
got
enough
gear
already
.
Infrascan
perimeter
,
screamers
.
.
.
’
'
No
,
’
he
said
,
closing
the
door
.
'
I
want
it
tight
.
’
'
Suit
yourself
.
’
She
wore
a
dark
mesh
t
-
shirt
tucked
into
baggy
black
cotton
pants
.
'
You
ever
the
heat
,
Mr
.
Armitage
?
’
Case
asked
,
from
where
he
sat
,
his
back
against
a
wall
.
Armitage
was
no
taller
than
Case
,
but
with
his
broad
shoulders
and
military
posture
he
seemed
to
fill
the
doorway
.
He
wore
a
somber
Italian
suit
;
in
his
right
hand
he
held
a
briefcase
of
soft
black
calf
.
The
Special
Forces
earring
was
gone
.
The
handsome
,
inexpressive
features
offered
the
routine
beauty
of
the
cosmetic
boutiques
,
a
conservative
amalgam
of
the
past
decade
’
s
leading
media
faces
.
The
pale
glitter
of
his
eyes
heightened
the
effect
of
a
mask
.
Case
began
to
regret
the
question
.
'
Lots
of
Forces
types
wound
up
cops
,
I
mean
.
Or
corporate
security
,
’
Case
added
uncomfortably
.
Molly
handed
him
a
steaming
mug
of
coffee
.
'
That
number
you
had
them
do
on
my
pancreas
,
that
’
s
like
a
cop
routine
.
’
Armitage
closed
the
door
and
crossed
the
room
,
to
stand
in
front
of
Case
.
'
You
’
re
a
lucky
boy
,
Case
.
You
should
thank
me
.
’
'
Should
I
?
’
Case
blew
noisily
on
his
coffee
.
