37 A tall Mexican (2/2)

The director walked slowly around Sam and the still whimpering Li. What do you mean, for some nice perks ... would you be ready to come to my office with your slave tomorrow night? ”

”I fuck the perks, I want to get out of here.”

The director rubbed his chin. ”Hm, hm, but you have to provide me with a unique movie template.”

As fast as lightning, Sam pulled Brutus' baton off his hip. She slid him obscenely through her closed fist. ”What do you mean, what could I do with this thing and the little one?” she whispered to Lapuente.

Sam saw beads of sweat glisten on his forehead before Brutus pulled her head back painfully by the hair. He stripped her of the baton and pressed it against Sam's throat.

”Shit, he could have done it less brutally.” Sam thought.

”Wait, wait ...” The director gestured in Brutu's direction. ”Bring them to my office tomorrow.”

Brutus let go of Sam, who coughed back in front of him, coughing and spitting. The director left. Her plan was successful.

Sam opened his eyes. With tears, she mercifully guessed only vague outlines. Sam blinked away the tears. She moaned, the monstrosities that lay before her paralyzed her body and mind.

Again the malicious giggling. Then the commanding voice whispered to her, ”You need information to get out of here alive.”

”I'm crazy.” With trembling fingers she wiped the sweat from her forehead. ”Only a madman has a chance to finish this madman.” Grimly, Sam pressed his lips together, forcing himself to look and understand what Summersby's note meant ”My collected works.”

In one photo, Danielle's naked body was set on a white mass and Summersby held a lid of the same rigid mass into the camera. Sam could see the body print clearly. Danielle's body showed traces of white matter. Probably plaster. Summersby had made a plaster cast of Danielle. Sam guessed that the girl had not lived at this time.