Chapter 29

           Ortega’slistwasovertwothousandnameslong,eachannotatedwithabriefsurveillancereportandanyOrganic-Damageconvictionstiedtotheoperatorsorclientele.Inhardcopyformatitrantoabouttwohundredconcertina’dsheets,whichstartedtounravellikealongpaperscarfassoonasIgotpastpageone.ItriedtoscanthelistinthecabbacktoBayCity,butgaveupwhenitthreatenedtooverwhelmusbothonthebackseat.Iwasn’tinthemoodanyway.MostofmewishedIwasstillbeddeddowninthesterncabinofRyker’syacht,isolatedfromtherestofhumanityanditsproblemsbyhundredsofkilometresoftracklessblue.

           BackattheWatchtowersuite,IputOrtegainthekitchenwhileIcalledKawaharaatthenumberTrepphadgivenme.ItwasTreppthatcameonscreenfirst,featuressmearedwithsleep.Iwonderedifshe’dbeenupallnighttryingtotrackme.

           "Morning."Sheyawnedandpresumablycheckedaninternaltimechip."Afternoon,Imean.Where’veyoubeen?"

           "Outandabout."

           Trepprubbedinelegantlyatoneeyeandyawnedagain."Suityourself.Justmakingconversation.How’syourhead?"

           "Better,thanks.IwanttotalktoKawahara."

           "Sure."Shereachedtowardsthescreen."Talktoyoulater."

           Thescreendroppedintoneutral,anunwindingtricolouredhelixaccompaniedbysicklysweetstringarrangements.Igrittedmyteeth.

           "Takeshi-san.