Ortega's list was over two thousand names long, each annotated with a brief surveillance report and any Organic-Damage convictions tied to the operators or clientele. In hardcopy format it ran to about two hundred concertina'd sheets, which started to unravel like a long paper scarf as soon as I got past page one. I tried to scan the list in the cab back to Bay City, but gave up when it threatened to overwhelm us both on the back seat. I wasn't in the mood anyway. Most of me wished I was still bedded down in the stern cabin of Ryker's yacht, isolated from the rest of humanity and its problems by hundreds of kilometres of trackless blue.