Chapter 6

           KristinOrtegawasremarkablyrestrained.

           Shecamethroughthehoteldoorswithalopingstridethatbouncedoneheavilyweightedjacketpocketagainstherthigh,cametoahaltinthecentreofthelobbyandsurveyedthecarnagewithhertonguethrustintoonecheek.

           "Youdothissortofthingalot,Kovacs?"

           "I’vebeenwaitingawhile,"Itoldhermildly."I’mnotinagreatmood."

           ThehotelhadplacedacalltotheBayCitypoliceaboutthetimetheautoturrethadcutloose,butitwasagoodhalfhourbeforethefirstcruiserscamespirallingdownoutoftheskytraffic.Ihadn’tbotheredtogotomyroom,sinceIknewtheyweregoingtodragmeoutofbedanyway,andoncetheyarrivedtherewasnoquestionofmegoinganywhereuntilOrtegagotthere.Apolicemedicgavemeacursorycheck,ascertainedthatIwasn’tsufferingfromconcussionandleftmewitharetardantspraytostopthenosebleed,afterwhichIsatinthelobbyandletmynewsleevesmokesomeofthelieutenant’scigarettes.Iwasstillsittingthereanhourlaterwhenshearrived.

           Ortegagestured."Yeah,well.Busycityatnight."

           Iofferedherthepacket.ShelookedatitasifI’djustposedamajorphilosophicalquestion,thentookitandshookoutacigarette.Ignoringtheignitionpatchonthesideofthepacket,shesearchedherpockets,producedaheavypetrollighterandsnappeditopen.