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FROM 3½″ DISK LABELLED: BACKUP.007; FILE LOVE.010

Of course, the discovery that one has a natural bent for something does not necessarily mean one should pursue it blindly. While I was disposing of Paul’s body, this time in a dark doorway in an alley in Temple Fields, I had already decided who my next target would be. But even after so magnificent an experience as the one I’d just shared with Paul, I had no intention of repeating it with Gareth.

It was going to be third time lucky. Gareth, I already knew, was a man of rich and fertile sexual imagination. Even as I was digitizing Paul’s pathetic performance into the computer, I was mourning the fact that, thanks to Gareth, I would never have the opportunity to perfect the extraordinary talent I had discovered in myself. With the resources at my command, I’ve been making movies like I’ve never seen. The ultimate snuff stuff. If I could have marketed them, I would have made a fortune. I know there’s a market out there. Plenty of people would pay a lot of money to watch Paul fuck me in his death spasms on the Judas chair. And as for what I’ve done with Adam … Let’s just say that no one’s ever seen sixty-nine like it.

As a treat, I went to the cemetery where Adam had been buried a few weeks before. The funeral had featured on the local television news, which I’d video-taped and studied so I could be fairly sure where the grave was. After dark, I made my way through the graves, and found Adam’s within twenty minutes. I opened the can of red spray paint I’d brought with me and sprayed ‘WANKER’ on one side of the grey granite, and ‘POOFTER’ on the other side. That should give the police something to occupy their minds.

The following evening, while I was waiting for Gareth to emerge from the firm of solicitors where he was a salaried partner, I whiled away the time with the hyperbole of the Bradfield Evening Sentinel Times. This time, I’d made the front page.

GAY KILLER STRIKES AGAIN?

The mutilated body of a naked man was found this morning in Bradfield’s gay village.

The murder victim had been dumped in the fire-exit doorway of the gay club Shadowlands in an alley off Canal Street in the notorious Temple Fields district.

This is the second time in two months that the body of a naked man has been discovered in the gay cruising area.

Now locals fear a perverted serial killer is stalking the city’s large homosexual community.

Today’s gruesome discovery was made by nightclub owner Danny Surtees, 37, as he arrived for a meeting with his accountant.

He said, ‘I always go into the club through the fire door at the side. I park my car in the alley. This morning, the door was blocked by something covered by a couple of black bin bags.

‘When I grabbed hold of the bags to try and pull them away from the door, they just came away in my hands and I saw there was a body under them.

‘He was horribly injured. There was no way he was still alive. I’m going to have nightmares about this for the rest of my life.’

Mr Surtees said the doorway had been clear when he locked up his club just after three this morning.

The victim, said to be in his early thirties, has not yet been identified. Police describe him as white, 5ft 11ins, slightly built, with dark-brown collar-length hair and hazel eyes. He has an old scar from an appendicectomy.

A police spokesman said, ‘We believe the man was killed elsewhere and the body dumped in the alley between three and eight a.m.

‘We would urge anyone who was in the Temple Fields area last night to come forward for the purpose of elimination. All information will be treated in the strictest confidence.

‘At this stage of our enquiry, there is no evidence to connect this killing with the murder two months ago of Adam Scott.’

Carl Fellowes, the full-time worker at the Bradfield Gay and Lesbian Centre, said today, ‘The police say that they don’t think there’s a connection between these two murders.

‘I don’t know what makes me more worried on behalf of the city’s gay community – the thought that there’s one nutter out there killing gay men, or the thought that there are two of them.’

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. One thing was clear, though. PC Plod was a long way from covering himself in glory over this case. I’d obviously done a good job covering my tracks.

I folded up my newspaper, finished my cappuccino and signalled for my bill. Any minute now, Gareth would emerge from his office and walk through the rush-hour streets to the tram. I wanted to be ready for him. I had something really special planned for him tonight, and I wanted to make sure he was home alone to enjoy it.