Chapter 27

           Ichangedcabsthreetimesonthewayfromtheairport,payingeachoneincurrency,andthenbookedintoanall-nightflophouseinOakland.Anyonetailingmeelectronicallywasgoingtotakealittlewhiletocatchup,andIwasreasonablysurethatIhadn’tbeenactuallyfollowed.Itseemedabitlikeparanoia—afterall,Iwasworkingforthebadguysnow,sotheyhadnoneedtotailme.ButIhadn’tlikedTrepp’sironickeepintouchasshesawmeofffromtheBayCityterminal.Also,Iwasn’tsureexactlywhatIwasgoingtodoyet,andifIdidn’tknow,Icertainlydidn’twantanyoneelseknowingeither.

           Theflophouseroomhadsevenhundredandeighty-sixscreenchannels,holopornandcurrentaffairsbothadvertisedinluridcoloursonthestandbydisplay,ahinged,self-cleansingdoublebedthatstankofdisinfectantandaself-containedshowerstallthatwasbeginningtolistawayfromthewallithadoncebeenepoxiedto.Ipeeredoutofthesinglegrimywindow.ItwasthemiddleofthenightinBayCity,andtherewasafine,mistyrainfalling.MydeadlinewithOrtegawasrunningout.

           Thewindowgaveontoaslopingfibrecreteroofabouttenmetresbelow.Thestreetwasasfarbelowagain.Overhead,apagoda-likeupperlevelscreenedthelowerroofandstreetunderlongeaves.Coveredspace.Afteramoment’sdebate,IpressedthelastofTrepp’shangovercapsulesoutofthefoilandswallowedit,thenopenedthewindowasquietlyasIcould,swungoutandhungbymyfingersfromthelowerframe.