Lynch. Lynch was the one.
* * *
Once, in Mexico, years before, Turner had chartered a portable vacation module, solar-powered and French-built, its seven-meter body like a wingless housefly sculpted in polished alloy, its eyes twin hemispheres of tinted, photosensitive plastic; he sat behind them as an aged twin-prop Russian cargo lifter lumbered down the coast with the module in its jaws, barely clearing the crowns of the tallest palms. Deposited on a remote beach of black sand, Turner spent three days of pampered solitude in the narrow, teak-lined cabin, micro-waving food from the freezer and showering, frugally but regularly, in cool fresh water. The modules rectangular banks of cells would swivel, tracking the sun, and hed learned to tell time by their position.
Hosakas portable neurosurgery resembled an eyeless ver-sion of that French module, perhaps two meters longer and painted a dull brown. Sections of perforated angle iron had been freshly braised at intervals along the lower half of the hull, and supported simple spring suspensions for ten fat, heavily nubbed red rubber bicycle tires.
Theyre asleep, Lynch said. It bobs around when they move, so you can tell. Well have the wheels off when the time comes, but for now we like being able to keep track of them.
Turner walked slowly around the brown pod, noting the glossy black sewage tube that ran to a small rectangular tank nearby.
Had to dump that, last night. Jesus. Lynch shook his head. They got food and some water.
Turner put his ear to the hull.
Its proofed, Lynch said.
Turner glanced up at the steel roof above them. The surgery was screened from above by a good ten meters of rusting roof. Sheet steel, and hot enough now to fry an egg. He nodded. That hot rectangle would be a permanent factor in the Maas infrared scan.
Bats, Webber said, handing him the Smith & Wesson in a black nylon shoulder rig. The dusk was full of sounds that seemed to come from inner space, metallic squeaks and the cackling of bugs, cries of unseen birds. Turner shoved gun and holster into a pocket on the parka. You wanna piss, go up by that mesquite. But watch out for the thorns.
Where are you from?
New Mexico, the woman said, her face like carved wood in the remaining light. She turned and walked away, heading for the angle of walls that sheltered the tarps. He could make out Sutcliffe and a young black man there. They were eating from dull foil envelopes Ramirez, the on-site console jockey, Jaylene Slides partner. Out of Los Angeles.
Turner looked up at the bowl of sky, limitless, the map of stars. Strange how its bigger this way, he thought, and from orbit its just a gulf, formless, and scale lost all meaning. And tonight he wouldnt sleep, he knew, and the Big Dipper would whirl round for him and dive for the horizon, pulling its tail with it.
A wave of nausea and dislocation hit him as images from the biosoft dossier swam unbidden through his mind.
8 PARIS
The concierge was sitting in the courtyard as Marly entered the building, on a white plastic crate that had once held bottles of Evian water. He was patiently oiling each link of an old bicycles black chain. He glanced up as she began to climb the first flight of stairs, but registered no particular interest.
The stairs were made of marble, worn dull and concave by generations of tenants. Andreas
apartment was on the fourth floor. Two rooms, kitchen, and bath. Marly had come here when shed closed her gallery for the last time, when it was no longer possible to sleep in the makeshift bedroom shed shared with Alain, the little room behind the storeroom. Now 4: the building brought her depression circling in again, but the feel of her new outfit and the tidy click of her bootheels on marble kept it at a distance. She wore an oversized leather coat a few shades lighter than her handbag, a wool skirt, and a silk blouse from Paris Isetan. Shed had her hair cut that morning on Faubourg St. Honoré, by a Burmese girl with a West German laser pencil; an expensive cut, subtle without being too conservative.
She touched the round plate bolted in the center of Andreas door, heard it peep once, softly, as it read the whorls and ridges of her fingertips. Its me, Andrea, she said to the tiny microphone. A series of clanks and tickings as her friend unbolted the door.
Andrea stood there, dripping wet, in the old terry robe. She took in Marlys new look, then smiled. Did you get your job, or have you robbed a bank? Marly stepped in, kissing her friends wet cheek. It feels a bit of both, she said, and laughed.
Coffee, said Andrea, make us coffee Grandes crémes. I must rinse my hair And yours is beautiful... She went into the bathroom and Marly heard a spray of water across porcelain.
Ive brought you a present, Marly said, but Andrea couldnt hear her She went into the kitchen and filled the kettle, lit the stove with the old-fashioned spark gun, and began to search the crowded shelves for coffee.
Yes, Andrea was saying, I do see it. She was peering into the hologram of the box Marly had first seen in Vireks construct of Gaudis park. Its your sort of thing. She touched a stud and the Brauns illusion winked out.