white leather ottoman

saw a darkened display window, he managed to pause by it. The place was a surgical boutique, closed for renovations. With his hands in the pockets of his jacket, he stared through the glass at a flat lozenge of vat grown flesh that lay on a carved pedestal of imitation jade. The color of its skin reminded him of Zones whores; it was tattooed with a luminous digital display wired to a subcutaneous chip. Why bother with the surgery, he found himself thinking, while sweat coursed down his ribs, when you could just carry the thing around in your pocket? Without moving his head, he raised his eyes and studied the reflection of the passing crowd. There. Behind sailors in short-sleeved khaki. Dark hair, mirrored glasses, dark clothing, slender. white leather ottoman . . And gone. Then Case was running, bent low, dodging between bodies. Rent me a gun, Shin? The boy smiled. Two hour. They stood together in the smell of fresh raw seafood at the rear of a Shiga sushi stall. You come back, two hour. I need one now, man. Got anything white leather ottoman right now? Shin rummaged behind empty two-liter cans that had once been filled with powdered horseradish. He produced a slender package wrapped in gray plastic. Taser. One hour, twenty New Yen. Thirty deposit. Shit. I dont need that. I need a gun. Like I maybe wanna shoot

somebody, understand? The waiter shrugged, replacing the taser behind the horseradish cans. Two hour. He went into the shop without bothering to glance at the display of shuriken. Hed never thrown one in his life. He bought two packs of Yeheyuans with a Mitsubishi Bank chip that gave his white leather ottoman name as Charles Derek May. It beat Truman Starr, the best hed been able to do for a passport. The Japanese woman behind the terminal looked like she had a few years on old Deane, none of them with the benefit of science. He took his slender roll of New white leather ottoman Yen out of his pocket and showed it to her. I want to buy a weapon. She gestured in the direction of a case filled with knives. No, he said, I dont like knives. She brought an oblong box from beneath the counter. The lid was yellow cardboard, stamped with white leather ottoman a crude image of a coiled cobra with a swollen hood. Inside were eight identical tissue-wrapped cylinders. He watched while mottled brown fingers stripped the paper from one. She held the thing up for him to examine, a dull steel tube with a leather thong white leather ottoman at one end and a small bronze pyramid at the other. She gripped the tube with one hand, the pyramid between her other thumb and forefinger, and pulled. Three oiled, telescoping segments of tightly wound coil spring slid out and locked. Cobra, she said. white leather ottoman Beyond the neon shudder of Ninsei, the sky was that mean shade of gray. The air had gotten worse; it seemed to have teeth tonight, and half the crowd wore filtration masks. Case had spent ten minutes in a urinal, trying to discover a convenient way to conceal

his cobra; finally hed settled for tucking the handle into the waistband of his jeans, with the tube slanting across his stomach. The pyramidal striking tip rode between his ribcage and the lining of his windbreaker. The thing felt like it might clatter to white leather ottoman the pavement with his next step, but it made him feel better. The Chat wasnt really a dealing bar, but on weeknights it attracted a related clientele. Fridays and Saturdays were different. The regulars were still there, most of them, but they faded behind white leather ottoman an influx of sailors and the specialists who preyed on diem. As Case pushed through the doors, he looked for Ratz, but the bartender wasnt in sight. Lonny Zone, the bars resident pimp, was observing with glazed fatherly interest as one of his girls went to work on a young sailor. Zone was addicted to a brand of hypnotic the Japanese called Cloud Dancers. Catching the pimps eye, Case beckoned him to the bar. Zone came drifting through the crowd in slow motion, his long face slack and white leather ottoman placid. You seen Wage tonight, Lonny? Zone regarded him with his usual calm. He shook his head. You sure, man? Maybe in the Namban. Maybe two hours ago. Got some Joeboys with him? One of em thin, dark hair, maybe a black jacket? No, Zone said at last, his smooth forehead white leather ottoman creased to indicate the effort it cost him to recall so much pointless detail. Big boys. Graftees. Zones eyes showed very little white and less iris; under the drooping lids, his pupils were dilated and enormous. He stared into Cases face for a long time, then lowered his gaze. He saw the bulge of the white leather ottoman steel whip. Cobra, he said, and raised an eyebrow. You wanna fuck somebody up? See you, Lonny. Case left the bar. His tail was back. He was sure of it. He felt a stab of elation the octagons and adrenaline mingling with something else. Youre enjoying this, he thought; youre crazy.