“It’s Kovacs, right?”

“Yes.”

“Takeshi Kovacs?” Her pronunciation was perfect. “Out of Harlan’s World? Millsport via the Kanagawa storage facility?”

“Tell you what, I’ll just stop you when you get one wrong.”

There was a long, mirror-lensed pause. The lieutenant unfolded fractionally and examined the blade of one hand.

“You got a licence for that sense of humour, Kovacs?”

“Sorry. Left it at home.”

“And what brings you to Earth?”

I gestured impatiently. “You know all this already, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Have you got something to say to me, or did you just bring these kids along for educational purposes?”

I felt a hand fasten on my upper arm and tensed. The lieutenant made a barely perceptible motion with her head and the cop behind me let go again.

“Cool down, Kovacs. I’m just making conversation here. Yeah, I know Laurens Bancroft sprung you. Matter of fact, I’m here to offer you a lift up to the Bancroft residence.” She sat forward suddenly, and stood up. On her feet she was almost as tall as my new sleeve. “I’m Kristin Ortega, Organic Damage Division. Bancroft was my case.”

“Was?”

She nodded. “Case is closed, Kovacs.”

“Is that a warning?”

“No, it’s just the facts. Open-and-shut suicide.”

“Bancroft doesn’t seem to think so. He claims he was murdered.”

“Yeah, so I hear.” Ortega shrugged. “Well, that’s his prerogative. I guess it might be difficult for a man like that to believe he’d blow his own head clean off.”

“A man like what?”

“Oh come—” She stopped herself and gave me a small smile. ”Sorry, I keep forgetting.”

“Forgetting what?”

Another pause, but this time Kristin Ortega seemed to be off balance for the first time in our brief acquaintance. There was hesitancy blurring her tone when she spoke again. “You’re not from here.”