They sent a slamhound on Turner's trail in New Delhi, slotted it to his pheromones and the color of his hair… — William Gibson
They sent a slamhound on Turner's trail in New Delhi, slotted it to his pheromones and the color of his hair. It caught up with him on a street called Chandni Chauk and came scrambling for his rented BMW through a forest of bare brown legs and pedicab tires. Its core was a kilogram of recrystallized hexogene and flaked TNT. He didn't see it coming.
Source: Wikiquote · CC BY-SA 4.0
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“Honey,” Jammer said, “you'll learn. Some things you teach yourself to remember to forget.”
He was good as new. How good was that? He didn’t know. He took the things the Dutchman gave him and flew out of Singapore. Home was the next airport Hyatt.
The Gothick girl regarded Bobby with mild interest but no flash of human recognition whatever, as though she were seeing an ad for a product she’d heard of but had no intention of buying.

