On a sunny summer day at lunchtime Fortune Street Park is packed with office workers eating food bought from stalls on neighbouring Whitecross Street. There is barely room to move. Before I started to shoot from my luxury apartment in The Denizen overlooking the park, I made some handwritten calculations about where to aim in order to maximize the death toll. Killing the muppets in the park was like shooting fish in a barrel. I took them out like turkeys on a meat factory production line at Christmas. People were such idiots; many of them lay flat on the ground in a bid to escape the leaden death spewed by my guns. Others tried to run away and I laughed as I saw claret stain the white shirts of those I’d hit. They made weird twitching movements like spastics before they died.
Woo said she was using sex magick to bring about the downfall of Chinese state capitalism, and that eventually there would be a world-wide proletarian revolution in which money was abolished. Woo said the process of disalienation that would lead to real communism would make everyone cosmic. Nothing made her angrier than the capitalists of Chinese state pretending to be communists. She said it was the lies of the so-called Communist Party of China that had impelled her to join the International Communist Coven and work for the return at a higher level of not just of the modes of social organisation that had characterised primitive communist societies, but also the shamanic magical consciousness that characterised them.
I paced up and down, pondering the tale as Lik told it. I saw how from his point-of-view it looked like Chan must be the murderer. I remained convinced Woo was the killer and ultimately she would butcher me too in an erotic rite of eldritch significance. Still there was something in the whole business that was currently beyond my comprehension, which would show that the deductions Lik drew were erroneous. And while I knew it was Woo who’d killed Tao, Chan’s mad as hell triad associates could just as easily be put in the frame.