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Chiba City tolerated the Ninsei enclave, but Case tended toward the idea that the Yakuza might be preserving the place as a kind of historical park, a reminder of humble origins. But he also saw a certain sense in the liz claiborne man pants notion that burgeoning technologies require outlaw zones, that Night City wasnt there for its inhabitants, but as a deliberately unsupervised playground for technology itself. Was Linda right, he wondered, staring up at the lights? Would Wage have him killed to make an example? It didnt make much sense, but then Wage dealt primarily in proscribed biologicals, and they said you had to be crazy to do that. But Linda said Wage wanted him dead. Cases primary insight into the dynamics of street dealing was that neither the buyer nor liz claiborne man pants the seller really needed him. A middlemans business is to make himself a necessary evil. The dubious niche Case had carved for himself in the criminal ecology of Night City had beep cut out with lies, scooped out a night at a time with betrayal. Now, sensing that its walls were starting to crumble, he felt the edge of a strange euphoria. The week before, hed delayed transfer of a synthetic glandular extract, retailing it for a wider margin than usual. He knew Wage hadnt liked that. Wage was his primary supplier, nine years in Chiba and one of the few gaijin dealers whod managed to forge links with the rigidly stratified criminal establishment beyond Night Citys borders. Genetic materials and hormones trickled down to Ninsei along an intricate ladder of fronts and blinds. Somehow Wage had managed to trace something back, once, and now he enjoyed steady connections in a dozen cities. Case found himself staring through a shop window. The place sold small bright liz claiborne man pants objects to the sailors. Watches, flicknives, lighters, pocket VTRs, Simstim decks, weighted manriki chains, and shuriken. The shuriken had always fascinated him, steel stars with knife-sharp points. Some were chromed, others black, others treated with a rainbow surface liz claiborne man pants like oil on water. But the chrome stars held his gaze. They were mounted against scarlet ultra suede with nearly invisible loops of nylon fish line, their centers stamped with dragons or yin yang symbols. They caught the streets neon and twisted it, and it came to liz claiborne man pants Case that these were the stars under which he voyaged, his destiny spelled out in a constellation of cheap chrome. Julie, he said to his stars. Time to see old Julie. Hell know. Julius Deane was one hundred and thirty-five liz claiborne man pants years old, his metabolism assiduously warped by a weekly fortune in serums and hormones. His primary hedge against aging was a yearly pilgrimage to Tokyo, where genetic surgeons re-set the code of his DNA, a procedure unavailable in Chiba. Then hed fly to liz claiborne man pants Hongkong and order the years suits and shirts. Sexless and inhumanly patient, his primary gratification seemed to lie in his devotion to esoteric forms of tailor-worship. Case had never seen him wear the same suit twice, although his wardrobe seemed to consist entirely of meticulous reconstructions of garments of the previous century. He affected prescription lenses, framed in spidery gold, ground from thin slabs of pink synthetic quartz and beveled like the mirrors in a Victorian doll house. His offices were located in a warehouse behind liz claiborne man pants Ninsei, part of which seemed to have been sparsely decorated, years before, with a random collection of European furniture, as though Deane had once intended to use the place as his home. NeoAztec bookcases gathered dust against one wall of the room where liz claiborne man pants Case waited. A pair of bulbous Disney-styled table lamps perched awkwardly on a low Kandinsky-look coffee table in scarlet-lacquered steel. A Dali clock hung on the wall between the bookcases, its distorted face sagging to the bare concrete floor. Its hands were liz claiborne man pants holograms that altered to match the convolutions of the face as they rotated, but it never told the correct time. The room was stacked with white fiberglass shipping modules that gave off the tang of preserved ginger. You seem to be clean, old son, said Deanes disembodied voice. Do come in. Magnetic liz claiborne man pants bolts thudded out of position around the massive imitation-rosewood door to the left of the bookcases. JULIUS DEANE IMPORT EXPORT was lettered across the plastic in peeling self-adhesive capitals. If the furniture scattered in Deanes makeshift foyer suggested the end of the past century, the office itself seemed to belong to liz claiborne man pants its start. Deanes seamless pink face regarded Case from a pool of light cast by an ancient brass lamp with a rectangular shade of dark green glass. The importer was securely fenced behind a vast desk of painted steel, flanked on either side by liz claiborne man pants