She made a quick check on her bearings, the data bits glowing and swirling around the nondescript child that was her persona in the Matrix. This was no more than a routine job, really; checking the datastores of a very minor research group stuck away in Kent would take no more than half an hour, after which she could copy and decrypt anything interesting at her leisure. The job didn’t really justify the fee, but they were paying for her reputation. Besides, she needed extra for Rutger, the barman at the Lounging Lizard, where she often had her meets. Keeping him on a hefty retainer greased the wheels of her style, making her negotiations generally swifter and more professional. That also helped guarantee more work to follow. This was just a preliminary snoop, after all.