Нейромант

           Terzibashjianledthemintoacafenearthecoreofthemarket,alow-ceilingedroomthatlookedasthoughithadbeenincontinuousoperationforcenturies.Skinnyboysinsoiledwhitecoatsdodgedbetweenthecrowdedtables,balancingsteeltrayswithbottlesofTurk-Tuborgandtinyglassesoftea.

           CaseboughtapackofYeheyuansfromavendorbythedoor.TheArmenianwasmutteringtohisSanyo.`Come,’hesaid,`heismoving.EachnightheridesthetuneltothebazaartopurchasehismixturefromAli.Yourwomanisclose.Come.’

           Thealleywasanoldplace,tooold,thewallscutfromblocksofdarkstone.Thepavementwasunevenandsmelledofacentury’sdrippinggasoline,absorbedbyancientlimestone.`Can’tseeshit,’hewhisperedtotheFinn.`That’sokayforsweetmeat,’theFinnsaid.`Quiet,’saidTerzibashjian,tooloudly.

           Woodgratedonstoneorconcrete.Tenmetersdownthealley,awedgeofyellowlightfellacrosswetcobbles,widened.Afiguresteppedoutandthedoorgratedshutagain,leavingthenarrowplaceindarkness.Caseshivered.

           `Now,’Terzibashjiansaid,andabrilliantbeamofwhitelight,directedfromtherooftopofthebuildingoppositethemarket,pinnedtheslenderfigurebesidetheancientwoodendoorinaperfectcircle.Brighteyesdartedleft,right,andthemancrumpled.Casethoughtsomeonehadshothim;helayfacedown,blondhairpaleagainsttheoldstone,hislimphandswhiteandpathetic.