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.‘What the hell do you make of that, Hal?’‘I don’t know whether to feel pleased the case is still open, or apprehensive.Something tells me that Joe Kosinski is shit-scared with good reason.’‘Do we trust him?’Halliday shrugged.‘I see no reason not to, at least until we find out what he’s got to tell us.I know I’ve only met him once, but I liked the guy.He might be a genius in his field with the IQ of Einstein, but I think I know where I stand with him.’Barney frowned.‘About not being followed.I’m uneasy about that.’‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I find out where we’re meeting.’‘While you’re gone.’ Barney pulled a lugubrious expression as he stared down at the desk-com.‘You think I should copy everything on the Nigeria case and wipe the system?’‘I’d be tempted to go along with him.’ Halliday swilled an inch of coffee around the bottom of his cup, swallowed it and stood up.‘Catch you later.’‘Take care, Hal.And remember to call when you know where you’ll be.’Halliday left the office and hurried down the steps and into the street, zipping his jacket against the icy wind.Even at this early hour, in the freezing cold, refugee kids were huddled around the food-stalls that lined both sides of the street.Fragrant steam hung in the air above the canopies, and the odour of cooking meat reminded Halliday that he was starving.He crossed the street to the food-stall where Casey worked.She was warming her hands over a steaming wok, her pinched white face betraying her Southern white-trash origins.‘How’s it going, Casey?’‘Hiya, Hal.Hey, some guy was around earlier, left something for you.Kind of important-looking envelopes.Here you go.’He took the envelopes and ordered dim sum and chicken spring rolls.The package warmed his hands as he crossed to the Ford and started the engine.He piled the food on the passenger seat and switched on the overhead light.The seal of the first silver envelope was numbered from one to ten.He opened the second envelope.On a single sheet of paper was a string of eight digits.He tapped the code into the seal of the first envelope and withdrew a sheet of hand-written scrawl.Mr Halliday,At one o ‘clock set off from your office.Head downtown on Park Avenue and turn down East 23rd.There’s a bar on the corner of 23rd and Fifth Avenue called Connelly’s.The black bartender with the silver head tattoos: I left another set of instructions with him.Tell him Joe sent you and he’ll hand over a second sealed envelope.Same code.See you later.JoeHalliday opened the spring rolls and took a bite.He read the note again, then remembered Joe Kosinski’s instructions.He ignited the car’s lighter and set fire to the note, then opened the door and dropped the flaming sheet into the street.He pulled away from the kerb and turned south, chewing on another spring roll and wondering what the hell Joe Kosinski was so frightened about.He considered the Nigeria case, the dissatisfaction he’d felt at its closure.Now, despite everything Kosinski had said about the danger, despite what he’d seen in the hotel bedroom yesterday, he felt good about being back on the case.His only qualm was that he was deceiving Kim.Fifteen minutes later he turned onto East 23rd Street and stopped before the bar.A defective fluorescent shamrock stuttered in the window.Halliday crossed the sidewalk and pushed into the warmth.The bar was almost empty at this hour, but for dedicated drinkers seated at the bar watching West Coast football and skyball on the wallscreens.He ordered a Caribas from a big black guy with silver face decals.‘Friend of Joe’s.He left something for me earlier?’‘Sure, pal.Right here.’Halliday took the beer and the silver envelope, identical to the first one, to a booth at the back of the bar.He swallowed a mouthful of beer and entered the code into the seal.He slipped out the note and laid it flat on the table-top.Mr Halliday,At one-thirty leave Connelly’s and head crosstown to the Mantoni VR Bar, Chelsea, corner of West 23rd and Tenth Avenue.Pay for a one-hour ticket, go into any booth in the Bar and enter this into the site menu on the wallscreen: Himalayasite, 37aBRT.Tank at 1:45 and look for the shrine - you can’t miss it.I’ll be with you five minutes later.See you then.JoeHe balled the note and slipped it into his pocket.The thought of entering VR again filled Halliday with a strange unease.He wondered if it had been his first trip into VR that had disturbed the ghost of Eloise in his mind, or if it would have surfaced to haunt him in the natural course of events.If the former, then he wondered what new ghosts might be raised by his next immersion in the tank.At one-thirty he finished his beer and left the bar.He remembered to burn the second note, and then drove along West 23rd to Chelsea.The Mantoni VR Bar wore the holo-façade of a fairy-tale castle, its spun-ice confection incongruous beside the redbrick expanse of an old meat warehouse.It was a smaller concern than the Park Avenue Bar, with only a short queue of customers lining the sidewalk.Halliday parked up and took his place in line, looking around for Joe Kosinski.There was no sign of the Cyber-Tech vice-chairman.Five minutes later he reached reception and paid two hundred dollars for a one-hour ticket, as instructed.He passed into the waiting room and a red-uniformed hostess escorted him to a single booth.He stared at the jellytank in the centre of the small tiled room, a coffin-shaped glass-sided box filled with disgusting brown gloop, like some kind of futuristic catafalque.The unpleasant act of immersing himself in the stuff seemed counter to the promise of the wonders on offer.He touched the wallscreen and entered the code into the site menu.He selected to keep his own body and clothing.Before he undressed, he got through to Barney.‘Hal, where are you?’‘In the Mantoni VR Bar, Chelsea.I’m meeting Kosinski in VR, of all places.I’ve bought a one-hour ticket.I’ll call as soon as I’m out, no later than three, okay?’‘Talk to you then, Hal.’At one forty-five he undressed and piled his clothing in a storage unit.He attached the leads and face-plate, then stepped into the warm jelly.He sat down, feeling the stuff slide around his body with an unpleasant, invasive intimacy.He lay back, and experienced a thirty-second period during which he gradually became deprived of his senses.He seemed to be floating, bodiless - with a wonderful feeling of calm and well-being - and then awareness hit him in a rush and, unbelievably, he was no longer in the jellytank.He was standing on a sunlit, upland meadow, a brilliant green sweep of land rising to a distant range of mountains.The sight of the rearing massifs took his breath away.To take in their entirety he was forced to tilt back his head.Their summits towered above him with an intimidating, impersonal grandeur, clad with snow so blindingly white it shone with a heavenly effulgence.He reminded himself that these were not actually the Himalayas, but some clever neural hallucination.He looked around for the shrine Kosinski had mentioned
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