I told Master Que about the phone technician and the Gi Club in the taxi on our way to dinner. We agreed to wait until we knew when the technician would be coming before making definite plans for which of us would be at the house when he came. As for the Gi Club, he agreed with me that I should go along and see what they were like, but was of the opinion that the Combined Staff Society was more likely to provide a social outlet. “So many members that they don’t need to advertise themselves to this years’ new crop of potential recruits? If nothing else that alone gives me doubts about the current leadership.”
Now, of course, we could all see the wild-eyed young man with a ponytail, nondescript blacks, and a fully functional handgun in his grasp. Part of my mind was wondering why none of us had noticed him before. Part of my mind was noting that the spread of bullets would have hit everyone at our table because he’d started pointing at Mr Chow and then fanned across to Mr Ling. A third part of my mind noted that he was beginning to turn and was shouting something invective-laden to the effect that he’d get some of the others if he couldn’t hit his original targets. I noted as a side issue that Master Que was shouting something too, but a lot of other people were making loud unorganised sounds.