Нейромант
Chapter 12
TherooftopmeadowoftheIntercontinentalwasstirringashecrossedit,anearlybreakfastcrowdintentoncoffeeandcroissantsbeneaththestripedumbrellas.
Hestillhadhisanger.Thatwaslikebeingrolledinsomealleyandwakingtodiscoveryourwalletstillinyourpocket,untouched.Hewarmedhimselfwithit,unabletogiveitanameoranobject.
Herodetheelevatordowntohislevel,fumblinginhispocketfortheFreesidecreditchipthatservedashiskey.Sleepwasbecomingreal,wassomethinghemightdo.Toliedownonthesand-coloredtemperfoamandfindtheblanknessagain.
Theywerewaitingthere,thethreeofthem,theirperfectwhitesportsclothesandstenciledtanssettingoffthehandwovenorganicchicofthefurniture.Thegirlsatonawickersofa,anautomaticpistolbesideherontheleaf-patternedprintofthecushion.
`Turing,’shesaid.`Youareunderarrest.’