"Pleased to meecha, I’m sure. I’m doing some hardware for your boss, it looks like." The Finn fished a pack of Partagas from a pocket and lit one. The smell of Cuban tobacco filled the room. He crossed to the worktable and glanced at the Ono-Sendai. "Looks stock. Soon fix that. But here’s your problem, kid." He took a filthy manila envelope from inside his jacket, flicked ash on the floor, and extracted a featureless black rectangle from the envelope. "Goddamn factory prototypes," he said, tossing the thing down on the table. "Cast ’em into a block of polycarbon, can’t get in with a laser without frying the works. Booby-trapped for x-ray, ultrascan, God knows what else. We’ll get in, but there’s no rest for the wicked, right?" He folded the envelope with great care and tucked it away in an inside pocket.