Нейромант
Chapter 7
Mollywasduebackfromherdrugrun.HelookedupatRivieraagain.`Ibetyou’restonedrightnow,asshole,’hesaidtotheHiltonlobby.AgrayingItalianmatroninawhiteleathertuxedojacketloweredherPorscheglassestostareathim.Hesmiledbroadly,stood,andshoulderedhisbag.Heneededcigarettesfortheflight.HewonderediftherewasasmokingsectionontheJALshuttle.`Seeya,lady,’hesaidtothewoman,whopromptlyslidthesunglassesbackuphernoseandturnedaway.
Therewerecigarettesinthegiftshop,buthedidn’trelishtalkingwithArmitageorRiviera.Heleftthelobbyandlocatedavendingconsoleinanarrowalcove,attheendofarankofpayphones.
Hefumbledthroughapocketfuloflirasi,slottingthesmalldullalloycoinsoneafteranother,vaguelyamusedbytheanachronismoftheprocess.Thephonenearesthimrang.
Automatically,hepickeditup.
`Yeah?’
Faintharmonics,tinyinaudiblevoicesrattlingacrosssomeorbitallink,andthenasoundlikewind.
`Hello,Case.’
Afifty-lirasicoinfellfromhishand,bounced,androlledoutofsightacrossHiltoncarpeting.
`Wintermute,Case.It’stimewetalk.’
Itwasachipvoice.
`Don’tyouwanttotalk,Case?’
Hehungup.
Onhiswaybacktothelobby,hiscigarettesforgotten,hehadtowalkthelengthoftherankedphones
