She put the glasses on…a cursor appearing. A white arrow, centered in her field of vision. Then moving down… — William Gibson
She put the glasses on…a cursor appearing. A white arrow, centered in her field of vision. Then moving down, of its own accord.
“Here we go,” said a woman’s husky voice in Verity’s ear.
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Netherton said nothing, something he’d only recently been learning to deliberately do.
“Turkey and Syria weirding you out?…Folks in Frankfurt made me feel like the Cold War never really went away. Somebody shoots down a couple of Russian jets, wham, it’s Cold War Atlantis, risen from the depths.”
“What’s going on?” asked Manuela, eyeing the container’s door. “Is this a cult? Kidnapping people and telling them somebody’s after them?”
“Let me think about it,” Verity said.
“You’re kidnapped too? Let’s fucking escape!”
