Cammarata arrived with his car under Kamiński’s house. The inspector had already fallen asleep a couple of blocks earlier. When the F.B.I. agent woke him up and got an invitation from him to come up for a drink, he gladly accepted. He needed some entertainment.
<<What would you like Eva, whiskey, cognac, coke?>>
<<Whiskey, please>>
<<Ice? >>
<<Yes, just a cube.>>

As Kaminsky prepared drinks, Cammarata sat on the living room sofa and pulled out his cell phone from his bag.
<<You know what I do now Filip?>>, he said in a rather high tone of voice to be heard by his colleague who was in the kitchen.
<<No, tell me … >>
<<I also try this telephone contraption. I call my Catherine at her house…>>
The inspector returned to the living room with the glasses in his hand and placed them on the coffee table.
<<So, have you heard from her?>>
<<She doesn’t answer me, strange.>>

Catherine did not answer because she was in the cannibal’s dwelling.

The night was calm and quiet, the shadows of stray black cats, as well.
Around the cannibal’s house was a quiet atmosphere.
No sounds or movements were heard, and
the wandering, weeping souls dozed in a blue meadow of stars.
The macabre reason led to the bed. But it was not a bed to sleep in, but to die abandoning oneself in an eternal, dark dream….

<<Before you fuck me, Steve, you must lick my pussy, I really like the way Eva licks it, let’s see if you are good at it too.>>
<<You are such a great pute Catherine!
You like to have sexe with women and men! >>
<<Of course, think that when I met Eva I was together with a model and I left him for her.>>
<<Ca va bien, strip naked and sit on the couch. Give me a couple of minutes I’ll be back with drinks.>>
<<What do you bring me good French bastard! >>

The man returned with two colored glasses in his hands (one red and one blue). He gave the red one to the woman and he held the blue one in his hand.
<<Pour la santé>>, said the cannibal.
<<Pour la santé>>, Catherine repeated and laughed heartily, before drinking.

Meanwhile, in Kaminsky’s apartment was Cammarata making yet another attempt with his cell phone, hoping to find Catherine at home. But she was not answering the phone. The F.B.I. agent began to grow impatient. He watched as his colleague slept like a stone on the couch, so he decided to stay in his abode until his lover answered the phone.
He decided to have another drink without asking the landlord’s permission.

It was now late at night and Catherine woke up completely naked in another room, damp and dark, barely lit by a light bulb hanging from the ceiling. She shivered with cold and terror. She was lying on a filthy concrete floor. She lifted herself up as much as she could, to sit down since she had on her wrist a chain attached to the hook on the wall.
She did not even have time to look around and scream for help when she saw Steve standing in front of her. The man, with a callous look, taped her mouth shut.


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