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'
Please
.
You
call
this
in
Ingilizmaking
me
very
tight
.
.
.
’
'
I
call
it
a
bad
morning
.
Now
tell
us
about
your
man
and
get
your
ass
out
of
here
.
’
She
put
the
gun
away
.
'
He
is
living
in
Fener
,
at
Kchk
Glhane
Djaddesi
14
.
I
have
his
tunelroute
,
nightly
to
the
bazaar
.
He
performs
most
recently
at
the
Yenishehir
Palas
Oteli
,
a
modern
place
in
the
style
turistik
,
but
it
has
been
arranged
that
the
police
have
shown
a
certain
interest
in
these
shows
.
The
Yenishehir
management
has
grown
nervous
.
’
He
smiled
.
He
smelled
of
some
metallic
aftershave
.
'
I
want
to
know
about
the
implants
,
’
she
said
,
massaging
her
thigh
,
'
I
want
to
know
exactly
what
he
can
do
.
’
Terzibashjian
nodded
.
'
Worst
is
how
you
say
in
Ingiliz
,
the
subliminals
.
’
He
made
the
word
four
careful
syllables
.
'
On
our
left
,
’
said
the
Mercedes
,
as
it
steered
through
a
maze
of
rainy
streets
,
'
is
Kapali
Carsi
,
the
grand
bazaar
.
’
Beside
Case
,
the
Finn
made
an
appreciative
noise
,
but
he
was
looking
in
the
wrong
direction
.
The
right
side
of
the
street
was
lined
with
miniature
scrapyards
.
Case
saw
a
gutted
locomotive
atop
rust
-
stained
,
broken
lengths
of
fluted
marble
.
Headless
marble
statues
were
stacked
like
firewood
.
'
Homesick
?
’
Case
asked
.
'
Place
sucks
,
’
the
Finn
said
.
His
black
silk
tie
was
starting
to
resemble
a
worn
carbon
ribbon
.
There
were
medallions
of
kebab
gravy
and
fried
egg
on
the
lapels
of
the
new
suit
.
