. didn't look at all like Dave's stuff - it was compact and efficient, for one thing - and it was helpfully annotated in German. So probably not his at all.Finally tracked the boss man down one afternoon and as expected he was no use at all - well, not directly: Promised to get me an e-mail address for the people who'd written it, but not before the next morning. Well, OK, I thought ... get on with other stuff. Except that I kept coming back to the conundrum. Despite myself, I needed to know how it worked, what I was missing. And I needed to know soon.I thought it was about time for a break, anyway, so I wandered over to the gardens in the square for a quick smoke ... and remembered Seffi, possibly the only person in PCW IT who I'd got on with ... and who was German. Not a programmer, unfortunately - she was the IT support services manager - but she should be able to translate the comments nonetheless. I called her as soon as I got back into the office. No, she couldn't give me five. I had to stand there as he babbled, and as they shot him in the back of the head. Of course, that wasn't quite the end. They enjoyed raping me so much they kept on. In the same room with my father's corpse. Then took me home to my mother."I started to stand, but she strode over and stopped me, touched my lips with a finger to stop me speaking. "Mother had me smuggled out of the country. To South Korea. The Korean government helped and I worked for KCIA. I talked to a psychologist, for months, and began to learn to fight. To kill. Quickly and silently. Or to immobilise or disable. As I learned, I travelled. To Japan, to Thailand, to Israel, just learning different ways. I learned to use knives, swords, and firearms. To drive, anything. Wheels, tracks, air cushion. To fly. I went back to China. Tracked down each of the men who had murdered my father and abused me. I killed. All but one, the officer. He ... I blinded, pierced his eardrums, shattered both knees, both elbows and then.
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