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Chapter 7

           Costafortuneanyway.TherealsmartonesareassmartastheTuringheatiswillingtolet’emget.’

           `Look,you’reacowboy.Howcomeyouaren’tjustflatoutfascinatedwiththosethings?’

           `Well,’hesaid,`forstarts,they’rerare.Mostofthemaremilitary,thebrightones,andwecan’tcracktheice.That’swhereiceallcomesfrom,youknow?Andthenthere’stheTuringcops,andthat’sbadheat.’Helookedather.`Idunno,itjustisn’tpartofthetrip.’

           `Jockeysallthesame,’shesaid.`Noimagination.’

           Theycametoabroadrectangularpondwherecarpnuzzledthestemsofsomewhiteaquaticflower.Shekickedaloosepebbleinandwatchedtheripplesspread.

           `That’sWintermute,’shesaid.`Thisdeal’srealbig,lookstome.We’reoutwherethelittlewavesaretoobroad,wecan’tseetherockthathitthecenter.Weknowsomething’sthere,butnotwhy.Iwannaknowwhy.IwantyoutogoandtalktoWintermute.’

           `Icouldn’tgetnearit,’hesaid.`You’redreaming.’

           `Try.’

           `Can’tbedone.’

           `AsktheFlatline.’

           `WhatdowewantoutofthatRiviera?’heasked,hopingtochangethesubject.

           Shespatintothepond.`Godknows.I’dassoonkillhimaslookathim.Isawhisprofile.He’sakindofcompulsiveJudas.Can’tgetoffsexuallyunlessheknowshe’sbetrayingtheobjectofdesire.

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