Richard Morgan: Altered Carbon

She looked at me levelly for a moment, then nodded as if coming to an internal decision. “You always meant to kill Kawahara, didn’t you? This confession bullshit was just to get me along for the ride.”

It was a question I’d asked myself a lot, and I still didn’t have a clear answer. I shrugged again.

“She deserved to die, Kristin. To really die. That’s all I know for certain.”

Over my head, a faint pattering sounded from the roof panels. I tipped my head back and saw transparent explosions on the glass. It was starting to rain.

“Got to go,” I said quietly. “Next time you see this face, it won’t be me wearing it, so if there’s anything you want to say…”

Ortega’s face flinched almost imperceptibly as I said it. I cursed myself for the awkwardness and tried to take her hand.

“Look, if it makes it any easier, no one knows. Bautista probably suspects we got it together, but no one really knows.”

“ I know,” she said sharply, not giving me her hand. “I remember.”

I sighed. “Yeah, so do I. It’s worth remembering, Kristin. But don’t let it fuck up the rest of your life. Go get Ryker back, and get on to the next screen. That’s what counts. Oh yeah.” I reached into my coat and extracted a crumpled cigarette packet. “And you can have these back. I don’t need them any more, and nor does he, so don’t start him off again. You owe me that much, at least. Just make sure he stays quit.”

She blinked and kissed me abruptly, somewhere between mouth and cheek. It was an inaccuracy I didn’t try to correct either way. I turned away before I could see if there were going to be any tears and started for the doors at the far end of the hall. I looked back once, as I was mounting the steps. Ortega was still standing there, arms wrapped around herself, watching me leave. In the stormlight, it was too far away to see her face clearly.

For a moment something ached in me, something so deep-rooted that I knew to tear it out would be to undo the essence of what held me together. The feeling rose and splashed like the rain behind my eyes, swelling as the drumming on the roof panels grew and the glass ran with water.

Then I had it locked down.

I turned back to the next step, found a chuckle somewhere in my chest and coughed it out. The chuckle fired up and became a laugh of sorts.

Get to the next screen .

The doors were waiting at the top, the needlecast beyond.

Still trying to laugh, I went through.