Linda was a perky blonde who led them through the bar, chattering about the latest news from the Government Zone and running through the spiel on the origins of Eskimo Nell’s name. The patrons ignored them. She might have been a hostess taking them to their table; but she didn’t take them to a table, she took them through a door and down a flight of stairs to an acoustic-tiled corridor lined with plain green doors. She opened one, reached in to flip on a light switch, and stepped back out of the way with her hand open. Markowitz passed her a credstick. Though she had a reader hanging from her waist, she pocketed the stick and left. Markowitz didn’t say a word; he just put a hand to the small of Andy’s back and urged him into the small room. It wasn’t much more than a cell, with a bunk bed crammed hard up against a plastic table with mismatched plastic chairs. A crapper and a sink filled most of the little space left.