He tilts his head, annoyed, exhaling an elaborated sigh.

“Mr. Dante is a professional player”, he mutters, “A professional killer. And I need to talk to you without his very disappointing, annoying interventions… you know, neck-breakings and all that Navy Seal stuff he’s so used to… He’ll have his moment, for that”.

He kicks the dead body of Adrian, slightly and I roll my eyes.

“…I want you to hear my story”, he says pensively, “The story of a widowed father who struggled with his only son’s addiction and bad behavior for years”.

He drinks the last sip of cognac from his crystal goblet and goes back to the armchair. He sits properly, crossing his ankles and stretching his legs a little. He rests his hands on the armrests and his head against the chair-back.

“Johnny was a good boy. Until ten, he was a son every parent would have been proud of. Then my wife, his mother, died. And he changed”, he said.

“Look, I am not here to hear your junkie son’s life story”, I exclaim, sounding like he’s killing me with boredom and knowing well, instead, that what he’s saying is very important to understand his motivation. Francois hits me with the cut of his head as soon as I stop talking. The blow hits me hard between neck and shoulder, and I bend forward, grimacing.

“Lieutenant, on your knees, please…”, Sanders says, annoyed, “…I won’t allow any more interruptions…”.

Francois and one of his men press me down violently. I fall on my knees, chuckling silently. The best thing I can do is playing the crazy, mad character in this game. This way, most of their attention will be drawn on me, and the girls will have more space. Out of the corner of my eye I see Carmen throwing me a begging, imploring glance. I try to reassure her with my eyes, but she’s still clueless. It doesn’t matter.

”You loved to taunt me with your sex
Kicked up the memory in my head
Watch my neurosis building up
Swallowed the truth your mind forgot
You did it all, did it all
All in the name of pity”

Jack Sanders sighs, his chest raises and lowers at the rhythm of his breath. He rubs his eyes, tiredly, then he speaks again.