The smell was authentic pine.Her own "impurities" were also, of course, absent. Her gun was nowhere to be seen. Her nanomite blade, usually strapped t... her hip, missing. Her undersuit, lined with enough microfiber chips and transmitters to crack a class-9 corporate firewall had been stripped off and disposed of somewhere, as with the rest of her clothes. She was as bare as the walls.Bare except, of course, for two important exceptions. The lush and colourful tattoo covering the length of her. Right, the third floor ofStanhope. Can you come quickly? ... Of course, I'll have dinner withyou ... fine, fine ... and bring your car, and a sweatshirt and sweatpants. Got all that? Good."There was a click as she hung up the phone. Who was Antonio? Nothingwas coming to mind, and Lillianna certainly wasn't offering andanswers. She was talking again to Denise, "I'm sorry that we have tostay in the same room as him. I know it's awful, but there's nothing wecan do; we certainly can't let him go. More

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