Caldwell awoke at the crack of dawn. For a while he thought he was still in his capsule hotel in Angel. He almost expected to see an LCD ting down his credit but all he could see was the blink of LEDs on the various items of eleics scattered around the suite. No nightmares this time and he felt he had enjoyed his best sleep, a deeply satisfying interval of dreamless black, in a long while. He showered and ged into black slacks and a white linen shirt with no collar. The shirt was a size too small. He pressed an arrow on the lapel and the fabric stretched to a more fortable fit.
The elegant forty-something woman who Caldwell found out had mahe daily goings on at The Mansion for close to twenty years had seen to it that new clothes had been brought up to his suite. By whom, Caldwell had no idea but there was a small staiscellaneous fashion bags with names like G.O.D., Izzue, Joyd Shanghai Tang stacked in one er of the suite. He hadn’t bothered to open al……（内容加载失败！）
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