“Okay, so I screwed up taking work from Oshicora. Chain has given me one chance to put it right, and you’re going to help me.” Sorenson snagged his coffee and drank. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t the scalding black slurry that sloshed around his mouth. His eyes bugged, his cheeks bulged, but he eventually swallowed. “That’s…”

“That’s what you’ll be drinking at least two cups of, so get used to it.” Petrovitch picked up his own mug and drank nonchalantly. “So you did a deal with Chain. You told him you’d get something on Oshicora in return for a clean getaway.”

“I can take my lumps, kid. But it’s not just me. It’s my mother and my sister. They rely on my company for everything. If it goes under, they lose the roof over their heads.”

“If the stakes were so high, why didn’t you check who Oshicora was?”

“I don’t know. I’m on a sales trip, visiting hospitals and pitching my implants. I get approached by that Hijo character. His employer would like to meet me, discuss a project he’s working on. I say Okay, because, hey, I’m on a sales trip. I’m here to drum up business.”

“Don’t tell me: you got so caught up in the idea of VirtualJapan that you let your guard down.” The first hint of sympathy entered Petrovitch’s voice. “He plucked you like a ripe apple.”

“He’s got his own quantum computer, damn it. I never thought for a moment.” Sorenson ran his hand through his greasy hair. “That was my problem: I never thought.”

“Did you not even find it slightly odd that a Japanese businessman was offering an American businessman a job?”

“I…”

“Do you not realize how much they hate you? All of you?”

“I, no. I guess I didn’t. I didn’t approve of the President’s decision. I don’t even vote Reconstruction.” Sorenson sighed and started on his coffee in earnest, pulling a face every time.

“You should have made that clear to him. Oshicora’s lumped you in with the perpetual President Mackenzie and all the other Reconstructionists. As far as he’s concerned, you’re the public face of a policy that would have condemned him and one hundred and twenty million of his fellow citizens to a watery grave.” Petrovitch looked up, and Wong was advancing on them with two plates piled high with heart-stopping amounts of fried food. “Incoming.”

They sat back in their seats as Wong banged their breakfasts down. The proprietor glared at the two men, then turned his back on them.

Sorenson blinked like an owl. “What… is this?”