BLOOD DIAMONDS Chapters 6 - 10 free porn video

Chapter 6

Four Months Earlier... New York City...

I stared at Rambo. "Well?"

"I can't work miracles, Sugar Tits..."

"Would you fucking stop calling me that!"

Rambo didn't even bother answering. A smirk and another fistful of potato chips stuffed into his fat face was all I got. When he did bother answering it was to answer my first question while brushing crumbs from his shirt.

"Look, I'm great at hacking, but there simply isn't anything to hack. I've hacked every file of every computer connected to the public server and the floor plans of the building and its security layout just aren't there. What is there are receipts from five years ago for an entire computer server that is not connected to anything outside the building. These boys are serious about security. Imagine that! A security company that takes security serious."

I slumped back in my chair and sighed. Without those security files I couldn't move forward. I had to know what was in the building. "Okay. What would it take to get you that connection?"

Rambo closed his eyes and munched through another mound of chips before answering. "I can put together a little gizmo that will open a Wi-Fi connection if plugged into a port of any computer connected to the secure server. Radio range will be short. Probably less than fifty yards and the speed will be shit. Probably take a couple of hours to download the plans to just one floor, but I can work with it."

"Okay, then. Tomorrow you get to work on the radio thingy and I'll figure out a way to get it connected."

Rambo left and I began flipping through the files of what he had managed to download looking for my way in. A couple of hours later I found receipts to another company for a service that offered me a perfect way in.

Three Months 2 Weeks Earlier... New York City...

I got interested in disguise watching old episodes of Mission: Impossible. You know what I mean? Scenes where someone starts peeling off a mask and, Holy Shit!, it was Leonard Nimoy under there the whole time. I wanted to do that. Seemed like a great way to be invisible in plain sight.

I was on and off with a theatre group for almost two years. The people there seemed to think I was strange because I had no ambition to perform on stage. Instead, I wanted to learn all there was about the back stage production. Building stage props and scenery and learning all I could about the art of make-up. And it is an art.

Learning how to build shoes that can add inches to your height while appearing to be normal shoes if your pant legs are long enough to hang over them. How to slouch without people knowing you're slouching to remove inches from your height.

Turns out that it's much easier to make a disguise that will fool a camera than people. Some strips of latex in your skin tone around the eyes, padding in cheeks and behind the front lip, theatre makeup, dark glasses, dyed hair and you're good to go. Or just a latex mask. But a person will take one glance at you and know you're wearing a disguise. Or you can fool people and a facial recognition program will see right through your disguise. I guess my point is that you can fool either a camera with its facial recognition program or you can fool a person. Rarely can you do both. Today was going to be one of those rare times.

Today I was slouching and wearing a disgusting looking mole on my neck guaranteed to draw people's attention to it rather than my face. Foam rubber implants behind my cheeks to make my face fuller. Workman's gloves to hide my hands and to leave no fingerprints. A cap with the logo of the company that took care of all the plants in the building and a wig of stringy, just barely touching my shoulders, badly cut and rather oily hair. Tinted eyeglasses and a respirator mask I already had on hid almost all my face. Lastly, baggy overalls with the company logo and enough padding underneath to add about fifty pounds to my frame. Toss in a strong chemical smell with just a hint of body odor and I was sure no one would want to get within ten feet of me. The way I looked and sounded through the mask, it would be hard for two people to agree if I was male or female after I left.

"Hey-ya. I'm here ta spray fer bugs," I drawled through the mask as I thumped my chemical sprayer on the receptionist's desk and sized up my competition. Having worked as a receptionist, I knew that the key to entering any business was to get past the reception area. Do that and everyone in the building will assume you belong there. Eighteen or nineteen. Brilliant smile and good body. Nice dress to show off said body without showing too much skin. Okay, I thought... She's on her first job out'a high school and probably related to someone here. Not a rocket scientist or she could'a used that body and face to land a much better paying job. Probably can't type worth a damn.

"Oh, goody!" OMG!... She actually bounced up and down in her chair. "Someone called from your office just a little while ago to tell me you were coming. Something about our plants maybe are infected or something. I can show you where they all are. Would you like some coffee? We have donuts, too."

Infectious smile and she was still bouncing up and down in her willingness to help me. OMG! She was perky. Way to perky for this early in the morning. I hate perky people.

"Yea, a bug. Bugs need killin'. Doan need ya ta show where the plants are. Got that from the company. They tell ya to stay out'a the room fer ten minutes after I spray?"

"Oh, yes! I've told everyone in the building, but are you sure you don't want me to show you around? Everyone seems glad to have an excuse to take an extra coffee break. I can show you around and introduce you to people. And we have donuts, too."

This girl needs a chill pill or something. Nice bounce to the boobs though... I stopped that stray thought before it could take root. God, I needed to get laid.

"Naa... Just need ta go-n-spray," I replied as I picked up the spray cannister and headed away from the desk. I swear I was ready to command her to, Sit! Stay! Good receptionist!, and toss her a donut treat if she bounced up to follow. I hate perky, helpful people.

"I'm in," I said softly once out of hearing.

Rambo's response came quickly through my earpiece. "Good. Now look for any office that has two computer consoles."

Past the receptionist's desk was a hallway with offices to both sides. Other hallways branched off at the end. If I saw a plant, I went in, did a little song and dance number to clear the office and sprayed the plant with the noxious smelling but harmless junk Rambo had put in the canister. It wasn't until I was at the end of the second hallway that I found what I was looking for. An office with two computer terminals that also had plants.

Another song and dance routine about needing the guy there to stay out for at least ten minutes after I sprayed. He grabbed his coffee cup and seemed happy with the prospect of another donut. Damn! What the hell was up around here about donuts? I was soon alone with the door closed and went to work. I didn't need to figure out which computer console was hardwired into the secure server. I just pulled one console that was under a table out far enough to place the gizmo in. "Check it," I said and seconds later Rambo's voice came back confirming he was connected.

Pushing the console back, I ran my hand over the carpet to make sure there were no marks left to show that the console had been pulled away from the wall. I was ready to pull the second console out from the wall when Rambo came back telling me I'd lucked out on my first try. He was getting everything we needed. I sprayed the plants liberally with gunk and left closing the door back behind me.

A couple more office plants got hosed down before I left past the perky receptionist. She gave me another brilliant smile, finger wave and a 'By-eee'. Please, put a bullet in my brain if I ever give someone a 'By-eee'.

Rambo was in the back of a van parked down the street from the building. I got in the driver's seat and waited until he gave a yip of achievement and closed his laptop. "The connection is even slower than I expected. That's the bad news," Rambo admitted. "The good news is that nothing is encrypted and no files hidden behind passwords. I guess they weren't seen as being needed since this isn't connected to the net. Give me a night of being parked here and I'll have everything we need."

"Perfect," I said as I started the engine, lit a cigarette to piss off Rambo and merged into traffic. "I think we deserve donuts."

Chapter 7

The Present... New York City...

The vault I needed to crack was on the fourth floor. I already knew it had a twelve inch thick, steel door with a timer gizmo that wouldn't allow the door to be unlocked until morning. From the security files Rambo hacked I learned there were also motion and infrared detectors plus sound and vibration sensors in all the halls leading to the vault. A laser beam grid covered every square foot of the room in front of the door. A palm pad reader with a key punch that needed two different, 9-symbol codes to be entered to turn off said security.

So, of course I said, Fuck all that shit, and instead took the first load of my equipment to the third floor. From the blueprints I'd gotten from the security company I knew which office was located directly under the vault. I used a convenient desk to stand on to strip the false ceiling tiles away to uncover the six inch thick, steel I-beams that crisscrossed under the reinforced concrete floor to support that huge vault above me.

Some quick measurements and I knew exactly where I needed to assemble my tripod. Even using the dolly I'd found in the janitor's closet, it took several trips up and down in the elevator to get all my crap up to the room.

The tripod stand itself was easy to assemble. I'd practiced enough that it went fast. Light-weight aluminum tubes with a thick rubber coating over them. I'd designed everything to be assembled with one wrench and all bolts were one size. None of that, Part B to Part Q then twist Part F until it locks, crap. This was one size fits all stuff.

The hard part was getting the large and very heavy pneumatic drill mounted to the top after it was assembled. Damned thing weighed just over one hundred pounds and I had to get it almost ten feet up the tripod and then bolt it into place. The first time I'd practiced this in the warehouse we'd rented, I'd dropped the damned thing. Also on the second, third and fourth attempts.

The fifth attempt I found out the hard way that I needed to add something to rest the base of the drill on in order to get the bolts in. Enough... Let's just say that I did many exercises over the course of the next few weeks to increase my upper body strength and that trial and error is the only way to perfection.

This time I had a super-strength kind'a bra that I slipped on and then crouched over the drill to hook the bra onto the eyelets I'd welded to the drill. Standing up, with several grunts of effort, I climbed the tripod. Using my back muscles to hold the drill just so, I had my hands free to slip the bolts in. I had to be very careful here. Falling from such a height with this much weight between my boobs would probably crush my, oh, so perfect chest, and definitely would set off every vibration sensor in the building. Unhook from my bra, tighten the bolts and there it was. Who says a girl can't get it up!

Next was the assembly of the air compressor and running one hose up to the drill. Using a foot pump I blew up two air filled cushions that went under the compressor and two more that were shaped to fit over it. When I plugged the compressor in and turned it on there was no vibration and even with the door open I could hardly hear it in the next room. Perfect.

Next was using the compressor to fill several more air mattresses that I arranged on the floor around the tripod. Over those went thin, foam filled cushions to keep the air mattresses from being punctured by falling concrete. I was satisfied that even the largest piece of concrete I could expect to fall would have a soft and vibration free landing.

I used the wheel attached to the tripod to raise and lower the drill assembly a few times to make sure it was working and put on my helmet with the face shield. I must have looked ridiculous in huge boots, a barely there gymnast's unitard, gloves and a helmet. Thank God I wouldn't be leaving behind a picture of me. The cops would laugh themselves silly.

I was ready to start when another small spell of dizziness hit me. Leaning against the tripod, I knew I needed a break after all this heavy lugging and lifting. I glanced at Frick and Frack on my way back to the janitor's closet. Sleeping like babies. I ate the last of my tasteless protein bars. After drinking more water I decided against taking the time to remove my unitard and just cut some fabric, moved the crotch of the unitard out of the way and pissed into a urinal in the nearest Men's Room. Yes, guys, a girl can piss standing up. You just have to move things out of the way with your fingers.

Anyway, I used the rest of my down time taking apart the pellet guns and wiping them and the CO2 cartridges free of prints. All of it got tossed through the tunnel into the dumpster. HA! I bet you thought I'd forgotten I'd put those cartridges in before I'd put on my gloves! You were thinking I'd get caught making a dumb mistake like those dummies on TV didn't you! Silly, silly you.

One more trip in the elevator and, "Rambo, I'm ready to start drilling."

"Outstanding, Sugar Tits. Nothing going on you should be concerned about, but I'm glued to all the monitors. Also, you are still an hour and twenty minutes ahead of projected timetable."

Guess I'd lost twenty-five minutes from taking the time to rest.

Turning on the compressor again, I waited for the pressure to build up before activating the drill. With easy turns to the wheel I was holding, the drill went up and began to bite into concrete. I'd figured to complete this part in four hours, but with the hour and twenty minutes I'd gained from starting early I wasn't worried if it took a bit longer. I love having a plan. I love it more when I'm doing even better than I'd planned.

Several Years Earlier...

"I got it all planned out," I whispered. "We can just go somewhere. Somewhere she can't find us. Somewhere we can get a house or something that ain't falling down. I can go to another school and you can work as a mechanic pretty much anywhere, can't you?"

Uncle Dave and me were in the new frilly bed he'd bought me. It had a canopy and everything. He'd bought me several new pretty things. Stuffed dolls and a new bookshelf to put them on. Throw rugs that were pink and soft to put over the crappy carpet I'd had forever. And a little table with a mirror I could sit in front of to try on the makeup I had now. I wasn't very good putting on makeup, but I was practicing.

"Shhh, I'll think about it, but right now I gotta sleep. Gotta long day tomorrow."

He rolled over and went to sleep fast. He seemed to go to sleep fast after we did things. I was wide awake. This was only the second time I'd told Uncle Dave what I had planned. That I wanted out. Out from this stinking trailer and away from Mother. If letting Uncle Dave do things was the price I had to pay for that, I'd pay it until I could get away from him!

I couldn't fall asleep. Instead I got up and used tissue to wipe between my legs. It was hot in the trailor so I didn't bother with clothes and just got down on one of the new soft rugs and turned my TV on with the sound really, really low. I watched an old Leave It To Beaver show and tried to imagine being in a big house like that. Keeping it clean. It seemed so perfect except Mother June Cleaver and the two boys would have to go away. Permanently...

I was thirsty so I went to get something to drink. Big mistake. I thought Mother was asleep in her room, but she wasn't. On the couch in the living room and awake. Barely.

"Well, if it ain't the little whore bitch." She was slurring her words and appeared in a daze. I made sure not to get close enough for her to swing a fist at me. I also kept an eye on the bottle she was holding. She'd hit me a good one with a thrown bottle once. Probably a lucky throw.

I wasn't so afraid of her as I'd once been. I was older and stronger. She'd lost a lot of weight and strength smoking that meth stuff she liked. I'd even pushed her down a couple days ago when she came at me. Surprised both of us that I could do that. I still took no chances around her though. I locked my bedroom door every night before sleeping and the bathroom door every time I showered. Didn't wanna take the chance of being snuck up on.

"I ain't no whore. You're just jealous he might like me 'stead of you."

Opening the refrigerator I took out the milk and smelled it. Kind'a sour. I poured it out and tossed the carton in the garbage. Only other stuff was beer. Good enough. I didn't really like the taste, but it was better than nothing and it was cold. 'Sides, it'd give me something solid in my hand if she did come at me. I took a long drink and burped real loud. Guess she remembered I was there when I burped.

"Ha! He don't like nobody and you're about to find that out. An' if he wants to fuck a skinny bitch like you that's got no tits? Maybe he likes boys."

"What do you mean, 'I'm about to find out'? Find out what?"

"Nothin'. You'll find out nothin'. You ain't nothin' but a whore an' you'll never be nothin' but a whore. Jusss a skinny, little whore wi' no tits..."

I was still curious about what she'd said, but her head had dropped down and she was passed out. Fuck it. I had plans and all I needed to do was to get Uncle Dave away from here for him to see how much better it would be with just him and me. I went back to my room, locked the door and got into bed beside Uncle Dave. Turned out I had my last really good sleep for a long time.

Next day was the last Friday before school would start and I spent the morning breaking into the last house I'd do for the Summer. It was a big house. Bigger than even the one Beaver lived in. I got lots of rings and jewelry, but not much cash. There were bottles of beer in the fridge and what looked like a real expensive bottle of old bourbon in the dining room. Those went into my back pack. Also in the fridge was some left over fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy in plastic containers. I put all those in my back pack, too.

I spent most of the rest of the day in the woods where I kept my stash of jewelry. I ate the food and mixed beer and bourbon until my head swam. I tried on different rings and wished I could wear them other places than here in the woods. But I knew Mother would just take them and try to get money for them at the bad, bad pawn shop and get me caught by the cops.

When I got back to the trailer Uncle Dave was already there and was telling me to hurry and take a shower and hurry. For once he didn't shower with me, just kept telling me to hurry. When I dried off he gave me new clothes to wear that were scratchy. Pink underwear and a short skirt and a white button down shirt. Then a man I'd never seen before showed up. He looked at me and said I was perfect. Uncle Dave told me to go into my bedroom with the new man and that night I really did become a skinny little whore with no tits.

Chapter 8

The Present... New York City...

The first hole was drilled in under twenty minutes. The bit I was using made a hole four inches in diameter. My hips are the widest part of me and required the finished hole to be a certain minimum circumference. I'd done the math on how many holes I needed to drill to get my fat ass through.

I can hear you asking already... But, what about the steel floor of the vault? Can I clue you into a secret? There is no steel floor. To save cost and weight on these vaults placed on upper stories most of the time they won't put a floor in. People somehow trust that eight inches of reinforced concrete floor surrounded by three foot thick concrete walls, vibration sensors, sound sensors, palm pads, laser grids, two armed guards, etc., are enough to keep me out.

Silly, silly people.

Ahh, but how did I know this? And how did I know that this particular vault didn't have a steel floor? I might tell you sometime. Right now though, I need to nudge the tripod over a bit and get another hole started.

Several years ago...

I didn't like being a whore. Then a few months passed and I just didn't give a damn. It all became very predictable really. Come home from school, do the guy that was there, eat and do one more guy if it was a school night. Maybe do Uncle Dave. Sleep.

Yeah, I was still in school. Uncle Dave couldn't take the chance that someone would come around wanting to know why I had stopped attending.

If you didn't count the three abortions and two STDs I had while in the seventh grade -The pill really didn't agree with me at all and a lot of guys would pay more if they didn't need to wear a condom- then things were actually better. There was money for a better trailer. Mother became comatose most of the time on pills and left me alone. Uncle Dave quit his job to be my pimp and with his extra time he made our weed patch into an actual yard with flower beds and shit like that.

On weekends there were men. And we took trips when I had school holidays. Most of the time it was motel rooms, but sometimes we went to real fancy places and I would do things in front of cameras while calling different men Daddy.

And that was seventh grade.

The Summer between seventh and eighth grade I had another abortion but no STDs. With me not in school there were more men at the trailer and we took more trips. Almost every other week I'd be in front of cameras calling some guy Daddy.

I guess there was more money, too. Uncle Dave bought a new car and started giving me a few dollars a week to buy things. I had most mornings free and I made more from breaking into houses than what he gave me.

I had a lot of jewelry now and was starting to fill my second coffee can. I had beer and whiskey and bourbon and vodka bottles hidden, too. When Uncle Dave caught me stealing a cigarette from his pack he started buying me smokes and I spent a lot of mornings out in the woods drinking and smoking while reading books I checked out from the county library. I always made sure to wrap the books up good in a plastic bag before I left though.

Everything seemed to interest me. Books on trigonometry and geometry were interesting. I spent days mentally figuring out how tall things were by estimating distance and angles and things like that. But mostly it was crime dramas that I enjoyed most. I thought it was sort'a silly how some criminals got caught in the novels. Stupid, stupid little things that got them caught.

I was halfway through the last year of middle school when I lost the second of my nine lives.

A woman came to our trailer on the first day of Christmas vacation this time Uncle Dave sent me off alone with someone. She took me to a motel and there were two men there with lights and cameras. Been here, done this before, I thought and went with the program. No one gave names and I just thought of them as Tall Guy and Shorter Guy. The woman put make-up on me, dressed me in a fluffy dress and I thought I looked like a stupid doll, but that was okay.

What wasn't okay was being tied to the bed and having a ball gag stuffed into my mouth. The woman and men started talking about how they wanted to film this and that and from what angles and when I heard the words, cut her for the first time, I got really scared and struggled to get an arm or a leg free.

"Look," Tall Guy said. "I think she heard that."

"Good. We want the cameras to capture the fear," the woman said.

I won't tell everything that happened, but from what they said I knew they wanted to record a snuff film. The men did things while the woman held a camera and suggested they do this and that next. Tall Guy was the one who cut me first. A long cut up in my hair 'cause he said a head wound bleed more. He took blood and wiped it all over my face.

I got more cuts, but none of them bled as much as the one in my hair. The other cuts were just scratches really made to bleed 'for the camera'. I got the idea that they wanted to make this last a long time. They had a lot of knives in all kind's and sizes. One was very thin and Short Guy used that to stab my belly button so he could smear blood all over my stomach. I know they cut me between my legs and around my butt hole, but I was trying so hard to breath through the small hole in the ball gag that most of what they did was just a fog.

It wasn't until after they had to untie me so they could position me differently that I had a chance to get away while they were distracted with getting the cameras and the lights into better locations. I got just enough of a head start to make it to the bathroom and lock the door before they could catch me.

They were trying to bust open the door without making a lot of noise when I took the top off the toilet and used it to bust the glass in the small, frosted window. I got a deep cut on the palm of my left hand getting all the glass out but I was too scared to notice. I got more cuts squeezing through the narrow window. They bleed but didn't seem very deep. I cut my left foot jumping down from the window and then I just ran for the darkness behind the motel.

The town where I lived wasn't very large and I knew where I was. The patch of woods behind the motel wasn't big, but it was a place I could hide when the men came to search for me. They didn't search very long. They were more interested in packing up and going away as fast as possible. I guess they figured I'd run for the cops.

I didn't run for the cops. I didn't run out to flag down a car. I couldn't trust anyone. All the adults in my life either wanted to hit me, cut me or fuck me. I just wanted to go back to the trailer where even if things weren't good, no one was trying to cut me up. I finally got the ball gag out of my mouth and just stayed still and quiet. Invisible.

It was cold without clothes and I couldn't walk very fast. I hid when I saw a car on the road, but it wasn't all that far to Goodwill. There were clothes in bags in the back drop off place and I didn't care if they were too large. I was to cold to care. Just wanted something warm. Only shoes I found were sandals too big for me, but if I walked slow they didn't fall off and I wasn't getting hurt stepping on rocks.

I went to my place in the woods and stayed there the rest of the night. I wanted lots of sunlight before I went to the trailer. I didn't want to take a chance that they were watching the trailer waiting for me and I wouldn't see them in the dark. I'd gotten a big coat from the Goodwill store and if I sat on the bottom edge of it and folded my legs, it would fold up over me like a tent.

Taking sips of whiskey and smoking cigarettes from a pack I'd left in a coffee can, I started to get warm and sleepy and the next thing I knew I was waking up really cold. It was daylight and snowing. My coat/tent had about half an inch of snow on it. Looked like I was going to have a white, fucking Christmas.

Uncle Dave got really angry when he saw how hurt I was. He took me to the doctor that gave me abortions and medicine for my STDs. The Doctor got freebies for treating me because Uncle Dave knew he wouldn't go to the police. I got stitches in my head, foot and hand. I found out I had another STD, got nightmares and was really, really sick with a really bad cold called pneumonia. Other than that the rest of my cuts were small stab wounds like in my belly button and shallow cuts and scratches. I was told that even the worst would heal with barely a noticeable scar, so I was okay.

The night I'd got cut up and escaped was also the night I made up my mind to run. I was going away. Sipping bourbon and chain smoking cigarettes under my tent/coat I'd taken a good look at where my life was headed. If I stayed I'd end up dead or like Mother. I was done with being a whore and I couldn't trust Uncle Dave to get me away any more.

I'd trust no one but myself from now on.

Chapter 9

The Present... New York City...

Turned out it was a good thing I'd started early. It was just before midnight by the time I had the hole large enough that I thought I could fit through. Cutting through the steel rebar embedded in the concrete with the portable torch I'd designed took more time than I had originally estimated. I'd lost half of the time I'd gained by beginning early.

It took several trips up the tripod to get my supplies through the hole and then it was my turn. It was damned tight and probably a good thing I'd lost a few pounds in my sweat box, but I finally wiggled my hips through and sat on the edge of the hole with my legs dangling into the room below.

First order of business was setting up the radio repeater Rambo built. I set it on the lip of the hole and unwound its antenna into the room below. I tested it and me and Rambo were still able to remain in contact even now with me surrounded by the steel of the vault. Next was a powerful, battery powered lantern. Turning it on I got my first good look at the inside of the vault. Maybe forty feet by nine feet, there was a two foot wide table that had a glass top with lights underneath that ran down the middle for most of the length. I guessed they used it to study diamonds on. Great for me, too. I found the switches and turned the lights on. I wouldn't have to carry my lantern around now. I had plenty of light to really see the vault with lock boxes lining the entire length on both sides. The last eight feet were blocked off by an iron gate and door. If religious people could be in every grand European cathedral at once, they might experience the emotions I felt. I had no words.

"Rambo, it's... just... wow," I whispered. There really wasn't a reason to whisper. All the sensors were on the other side of a twelve inch thick steel door.

"Wow on your own time, Sugar Tits. This is money making time. Get to work and bring home the bacon." Trust Rambo to be a buzz kill. But, he was correct this time. This was the time to make money!

First thing I did was exchange my thick, work gloves for surgical gloves. Then I shrugged into the special backpack I'd made that rested on my chest rather than my back. Next was a pouch that attached to the chest straps with Velcro. I got my keys and went to work. My objective was to open every single lock box before time ran out and I was highly motivated to do just that!

Want to know another little secret about bank vaults? All those lock boxes you've seen on some TV shows that require two keys to open? All of them, in your bank and other vaults made by the same company, can be opened by only having a set of fifteen keys. That's right, the fifteen keys I had would open every lock box, in every bank vault on two continents made by the company that made this vault.

Firstly, each bank received one of five keys to be the one master key the bank used to open the box. Secondly, each box would have one of ten different locks that the key the customer had would fit. That's right! If you have a key to a bank's lock box where you keep your valuables, that key will open about 10% of the other boxes you see. But, since you don't know this and since you don't have the bank's master key, the other boxes are still secure.

Opps, guess that secret is out there now.

How did I know this and how did I come into possession of my fifteen keys? I'll tell you another time. I have work to do.

All I had to do was find one key out of five that was the master key. Found it, other four keys got tossed into pouch. Now it was just trying one of ten keys to find the right one and... Ah, the sixth key was the charm and my first lock box was open. This was a wide box and inside I saw maybe twenty rows by twenty files of perfect cut diamonds of about two carats sitting on a felt bed. Didn't take a genius to do the math. I upended the box and poured the contents into my backpack.

"Four hundred by two carats, Rambo." We'd decided that I'd try to give an accurate count of what I was collecting and Rambo would keep score. But this math was simple given what we thought each carat would fetch on the market and I had the answer even before Rambo came back on to tell me. I'd just poured about one million dollars between my boobs. And this was just the first box! There were oodles and oodles of more boxes to open!

I opened the next box and I wanted to cry. I was actually choked up telling Rambo, "Twenty, fancy deep blue, three carat, emerald cut."

"Holy shit," was all Rambo managed to whisper back. I did the math while opening the next box. Deep blues of this size were very rare. I figured that seven million dollars were now safely between my boobs.

All the money we'd spent. All the planning I'd done. I could leave right now and Rambo and me could retire to nice, comfortable lives far, far apart on just the first two boxes. And there were many, many, many more locks to open! I could have everything I'd always planned my life to be. But, fuck comfortable! I wanted to have the life of the filthy rich by the time this night was over. Filthy, filthy, filthy... I actually think I had an orgasm.

Several Years Ago...

I never came with a man. With the right guy I'd get wet and it would feel good, very good sometimes, but I never came like I could with my friend Betsy the Vibrator. I learned how to fake it pretty good. How to move, what to say, how to pant and gasp. All just to get a guy more excited so I could do my homework and maybe go to sleep early.

I guessed I was maybe twelve, or maybe eleven or maybe thirteen that last part of middle school after I healed up enough after Christmas vacation to be rented out again. But, whatever age I was I had a growth spurt that added a couple of inches to my height and my boobs went from training bra to size A in just a week it seemed and then began filling out more. I still had lots of guys who wanted me, but the ones who wanted me to call 'em daddy got fewer and fewer.

With warmer weather I started my house breaking again. I wasn't making much money though. Mostly just jewelry and food. I began making up excuses so that Uncle Dave would give me more money. Every dime went into my hidden coffee can. I knew I'd need that money when I left.

It was five months after my close call with Tall Guy and Shorter Guy that I couldn't take it any more and just took off. I wasn't sleeping very good. Nightmares of men chasing me through woods would wake me at night. I was tired of guys grabbing me and I had to pretend I liked it. Knowing there was one more guy... Tired of knowing there was always one more guy. I was just tired of everything.

I didn't really have a plan. We'd just come back from a weekend trip where men filmed me getting tied up and whipped. Hard. When we got back to the trailer I hurt so much that I just left.

I was by the side of a road with my thumb out when Uncle Cop pulled over and got me. I thought at first he'd take me somewhere there wouldn't be men if I told why I was trying to go away. Uncle Cop took me back to the trailer and from then on he was a regular. Freebies, of course. I was like free coffee from a local convenient store. Just something to keep the cop satisfied.

Uncle Cop scared the hell out'a me. He liked to put the barrel of his gun in my mouth. All the time telling me what he'd do if I ever tried to run away again or tell anyone what he did to me. Then he'd click off the safety. I was so afraid he'd lose control and pull the trigger that I pee'd myself the first time he did that. Nightmares of Uncle Cop pulling the trigger began to nudge out the other nightmares. Uncle Cop scared me worse than Tall Gay and Shorter Guy had.

One reason I began planning my next break out was because Mother let something slip that was supposed to be a secret. Uncle Dave hadn't gone with me the night of the snuff film because he hadn't rented me, he'd sold me. For a lot of money. I wasn't expected to come back, ever, and when I did it wasn't really anger I saw on Uncle Dave's face, but fear those people would come back for their money.

I didn't run away again right then and there because I didn't have a plan on how to get past Uncle Cop. In my mind Uncle Cop was on every road all the time waiting for me to run. I knew I needed a plan to get past Uncle Cop before I ran.

Uncle Dave taught me something... Never trust anyone! Uncle Cop taught me something else I never, ever forgot... Always have a plan!

That Summer before my freshman year of high school I spent every morning I could in the county library. Searching for ideas on how to get away. Slowly I put the pieces together and when school started I began getting what I needed.

That Summer I also had two more abortions and one really raging STD. Yeah, I was fertile as a turtle that Summer! After the second abortion I bled, like, a lot! I think Uncle Doctor screwed up something inside me. A week after I stopped bleeding and the STD was getting under control he gave me another exam. I guess he was expecting me to cry or something when he told me I'd probably never get pregnant again. I had too many scars inside me and my tubes were full of gunk from all my STDs.

Hell, I was happy! Six, or was it seven or eight, abortions was my lucky number. I'd never have to put my feet up in the stirrups again. I was planning on doing a lot of fucking soon and not getting pregnant was just peachy keen as far as I was concerned. I just concentrated on my planning...

I'd need cash... What would be the use of going somewhere else if I had to live in a cardboard box giving blowjobs in an alley?

I was already the town whore but all I got was a little spending cash, so when classes started I just became the school whore, too. Soon the word was out that for twenty dollars a boy could do this. Thirty dollars to do that. Fifty dollars for the other. A hundred if they wanted me to go home with them after school and do whatever for an hour.

It amazed me how many guys just a little older than me had a hundred dollars. It didn't amaze me that I became very popular with all the boys. I'd sit in the back of the school bus with my coat over my lap and would charge ten dollars to let a guy slide his hand down my pants. Fifteen if he wanted his hand under my panties. My nightmares continued and I wasn't getting much sleep, but I just cut out studying after reading all my school books. I wasn't planning to be around for 9th grade graduation anyway.

I began looking forward to weekends when we'd take trips. I rarely knew what was waiting to be filmed but at least I could sleep on the way there and back. I slept better when not in my bed.

It was hard to keep a secret life and I got caught by a teacher giving a guy a blowjob in a janitor's closet once. The principal was all for expelling me, but I made it pretty clear she could be one of my freebie customers if she didn't. I got caught doing stuff two more times, but the principal and me worked out deals after school hours. That bull dyke wasn't really my type, but screw it. By Christmas vacation I was fucking tired -pun intended- but the money in my buried coffee can was building up great.

I needed a new identity... The guy who taught Computer Science also edited the school's newspaper. I stole a camera from a house and started taking pictures of school events. In the darkroom while he taught me how to develop the film and print pictures for the newspaper, I taught him how I could make him happy in under five minutes with just my hand. When I told him I'd do other things if he'd help get me a driver's license with a different name that said I was eighteen year old... Well, I gave him lots of encouragement to learn how to build new identities using the computer and teaching me. He showed me lots of ways to use a computer to build a new identity in exchange for lots of other things in the darkroom.

I needed a way to get out of town without leaving a trail... I already knew how to do that from a book I'd read.

I needed some place to go... Somewhere I could blend in. That took a little thought, but soon the answer was obvious.

Towards the end of the school year I knew my time was running out. One of the snotty cheerleaders found out I was doing her boyfriend under the bleachers and I knew it wouldn't be long before the bitch blew the whistle on me so loudly that not even the principal could keep it quiet. And if Mother and Uncle Dave found out I was making money and not giving it to them...

That last day I went to school I packed two changes of clothes into my backpack along with all my money and all my jewelry. I had my fake birth certificate using a girl's name who'd died soon after birth. I also had a social security card and driver's license that used the same name and said I was eighteen years old. All those many, many things I did in the darkroom had really paid off. Legally, I was an eighteen year old, dead girl.

The day before I decided to go I'd made a deal to give a guy a quickie if he'd cut morning class and drive me somewhere. By 9am I was getting out of the back seat of his car and walking towards a big service station that big rig truckers on the interstate used. I didn't look back and hoped I'd given him the clap. I hoped I'd given the whole damned school the clap.

By 10am I was in the cab of an eighteen-wheeler giving the driver a happy while mile after mile of untraceable distance was put behind me. I went from truck stop to truck stop, driver to driver. I didn't care where I went or what it took to satisfy the driver as long as more miles were put in the rear view mirror. My trail zigged and zagged all over the country until I was certain no one would ever be able to follow it. That's when I started looking for driver's going towards where I wanted to end my journey.

A month after leaving town a man in the city I'd selected was handing me keys to my very own furnished, one room efficiency apartment. Where was this? Let's just say it was close to campus. After all, where else does a single, young female blend in better than in a college town where there are thousands just like me?

I was maybe 14, or maybe 13, or maybe 15 and for the first time ever I could lock my door, of my place. I didn't have to wonder how many guys I had to make happy. It was everything those religious idiots said Heaven was...

Chapter 10

The Present... New York City...

"4am time check, Sugar Tits."

For hours all of my attention had been focused on opening a box, describing to Rambo the contents, pouring contents into bag, moving on to next box. My brain was on autopilot. It took a second for what he'd said to sink in. 5am was the time I'd planned to call things quits in order to clean up all the evidence and get out. It was only an hour away and I still hadn't taken the time to get past the locked bars at the end of the vault.

"Roger, Rambo." I felt the pouch on my chest and decided it was full enough. Time for a new one. I zipped it, tore it off the Velcro and dropped it down the hole to land on a cushion next to the others. Slapping the next pouch on I said, "Give me another time check in half an hour, Rambo," and went back to opening, describing, pouring and moving on.

When the time check came I stopped and got together all I needed for the locked bars that separated the vault into two parts. I had a gut feeling that something special was behind those bars. Why else put the area under even more security than a bank vault door could offer?

Two strips of duct tape to hold the part of the gate with the contact wires firmly against the wall of the cage. When I cut the door above and below the tape it would leave that part just where it was, maintaining the connection. I used the cutting torch I'd used on the rebar to cut through the steel above and below the tape. It was slow going but after picking the lock I finally had the door open.

I held my breath thinking Rambo might come back with a warning that an alarm had been triggered. Thankfully all I heard was, "5am, Sugar Tits. Cleanup time."

"Roger, Rambo." But I had no intention of starting clean up until I got a peek inside these boxes. "Give me another half hour check, please." I actually said 'Please' to Rambo. I was in a happy, happy place in my mind.

I didn't tell Rambo what I was doing because I didn't want him to worry. Instead, I opened the first box I came to and on the felt bottom, all by itself, was a large, uncut and kind'a ugly red stone. I assumed it was a diamond. I was about to put it in the bag when a voice inside me said, "Fuck it, I pushed my luck to get you so I'll just keep you as a good luck token." I put it down the neck of my unitard to rest between my boobs instead.

Not wanting to push my luck too far I decided to open one of the five, large boxes that were down near the floor. I'd been wondering what could be in such large boxes ever since I'd seen them. I still was caught by surprise by what I found. Cash... Inside was cash bundled together into bricks held together with plastic wrap. Brick after brick. Picking up one I saw hundred dollar bills in bank wrappers. I knew that banks wrapped a hundred bills together whether they were one's or hundred's so that made $10,000 per bank bundle. The brick was five bundles across and twenty deep so that was one hundred bundles and so that made this brick worth... "Holy fucking shit..."

"What was that, Sugar Tits?"

"Nothing, Rambo. Nothing. Just stubbed my toe is all." No way in hell was I gonna tell Rambo about this. He was going to shit himself when he saw it. I was in a frenzy opening the other four large boxes. More bricks of cash! Millions of dollars in cash!

I stopped thinking and got my shit into gear. Time was running out but no fucking way was I leaving except with every brick of cash. I scooped and pushed and kicked and threw millions of dollars down the hole. I didn't stop to count the bricks. I just grabbed them by the arm load and tossed them down the hole.

The 5:30am time check from Rambo came just as I was done getting the cash all down the hole. I did my mental check list and was satisfied that anything I was leaving behind wouldn't give clue one to the cops. Standing on the tripod, I activated my torch for a wide dispersal flame and carefully sanitized the concrete around the hole. Any skin cells I might have scrapped off going in or out were now just crispy critters.

The boxes that had held my equipment made perfect boxes to hold bricks of money. I filled the first four boxes, stacked them on the dolly and ran for the elevator. I needed to be gone in less than an hour and I was running for the finish line. I knew I was cutting things close and not just with the time. On the up and down trips in the elevator I had to lean against the dolly and put my head down to catch a few seconds of rest to make the spots before my eyes go away. My body was running on empty.

"6am time check."

"Okay, Rambo. Give me fifteen minute counts."

Downstairs I tossed the money boxes through the tunnel and stacked more empty boxes onto the dolly for the trip back to the money room. Five more trips up and down...

"6:30 time check, Sugar Tits."

"Okay, Rambo."

I was out of breath but I didn't have time to rest. I tried to control my breathing as I took one last look around the room under the vault. Nothing left behind for the cops? Check list and... Done! I grabbed the bag containing all the diamonds and ran for the elevator. Listing to one side from the weight. Damn! This many diamonds was heavy!

In the janitor's closet I tossed everything still loose into the dumpster. Left with a clean floor I put on the long glove, held my breath and began spraying acid on the sink's faucets and drain, then covered every inch of floor as I backed towards and then through the tunnel. In the dumpster I turned my head away and gulped another breath of air before spraying the tunnel walls. Putting the bottle down I closed the sliding door, gulped air and stripped off the glove.

"6:45, Sugar Tits. Where are you!" Damn! Even Rambo knew I was cutting this close. Anywhere between 7:00 and 7:30 the first cars would begin arriving. I just hoped everyone slept a little late this Monday morning. I pushed up on the trap doors in the ceiling and then I was standing up inside the dumpster surrounded by stinking garbage. I kicked off my boots, grabbed the workman's jersey and got it on and then the mask/wig/cap. Boots, boots,... Back on! I opened the side door of the dumpster and began tossing boxes of cash out into the alley. Then the over the shoulder sports bag with the diamonds followed. Then me...

"6:55am, Sugar Tits! Get your fucking ass in gear and get out'a there!" Rambo saw me appear from around the corner of the dumpster and was screaming now.

I decided to leave the bag of diamonds. I was going for all or nothing and the bag would slow me down. I started running down the alley and around the building getting my mask to fit better as I ran. "Rambo! Everything ready on your end?"

"Ready and waiting on your signal. In five minutes there won't be a fucking clue we were ever here. I've already wiped every recording and shut down every camera in a two block radius that I could."

"Consider the signal as given. Get the fuck out and we meet as planned. I'm gone," I added and tore the earpiece out. There were pedestrians to dodge on the sidewalk now. I put my head down and kept running. Don't look at me... Don't look at me. I'm just a fat man in a hurry! The car that was parked across from the front door of the building was my target. It held the camera that Rambo had used to spy on the guards. A key for it was in the pocket of my overalls. I tried very hard not to screech away from the curb and draw even more attention from the early morning pedestrians headed for work.

I made a right and then another right into the alley and sped to where the boxes were waiting. I popped the trunk and started loading boxes. Trunk was full. Back seat, back seat, back seat... Last box in... Diamond bag onto the passenger seat... My last act was to reach inside the dumpster and thump my hand against a timer switch. In one minute an explosive charge would shatter the large glass aquarium I'd prepared and one hundred gallons of gasoline would ignite and burn everything in the dumpster.

"Try and find a clue after that, coppers," I said in my best James Cagney voice as I got behind the wheel and drove away. As I turned onto the street from the alley, I think I saw the first employee car turn in from the other side.

I wasn't even close to being in the clear yet and I knew it. Because of 9/11, New York City has more cameras trained on its streets and traffic than any city in the world. I had maybe an hour before New York's finest began using those cameras to track this car. My first order of business was to get away from the city and the cameras. I drove a pre-rehearsed route to the nearest interstate and sped up to the speed limit before hitting the speed control. Traffic was light headed away from the city at this hour and the exit I needed was fifty miles away. I'd probably be turning off the interstate about the time the cops figured out which car needed to be watched for.

Getting off the interstate I traveled through an area of strip malls and gas stations. Then an area of houses and large apartment buildings. I turned into the apartment complex I needed and parked next to the car Rambo had left there the day before while I'd been sleeping. After transferring everything from one car to the other, I tossed the keys I no longer needed onto the seat, started another timer and locked the door. In twelve hours anything in the interior and trunk of the first car would be crispy critters. If anyone saw the keys and decided to steal it? Hell, I'd stolen this car. No chance the cops could trace it. If joyriding thieves were in the car when it lit up? Fuck 'em. Crime don't pay so don't steal cars!

The windows of my newest car had dark, tinted windows and I was finally able to take off my cap/mask/wig. God, that felt so good! On the passenger side floor I found everything I'd asked Rambo to leave me. A small bag containing a change of clothes, a can of lighter fluid, lighter, a pack of smokes, fake ID matching the plates and registration of this car and three bottles of Mountain Dew. I love that highly caffeinated Dew!

Stripping off the heavy workman overalls and unitard I slipped the shorts and tank top on sans underwear. My red good luck charm went into the hip pocket of the shorts. It was so much cooler with the AC cranked to maximum. Workman boots joined the pile of discarded clothing and I cringed when I saw how filthy my feet were when I put on sandals.

Leaning back into the seat, I closed my eyes. After days of heat and sweat I was just enjoying being cold enough to make my nipples hard. Lighting up, my first cigarette in six days made me dizzy. I fought through the dizzy by gulping a Dew. Ahh, caffeine and nicotine... Breakfast of champions!

My next pre-selected route kept me on residential streets as much as possible. Much less chance of any cameras. I didn't worry too much this car would have an APB put out on it. There were no cameras on any of the apartment's walls I'd passed and nobody notices one more car parked overnight in a large apartment complex parking lot.

Residential streets turned into roads and whenever I saw a likely looking dumpster I pulled in and tossed parts of my disguise in. Boots in one, overalls in another. The hat/wig/mask I set on fire and melted out of sight of the road along with the ID I no longer needed. The unitard was last to disappear into a dumpster behind a Burger King. If you didn't count the boxes of money and the diamonds nothing was left in the car to tie me to the robbery.

Wearing sunglasses and a large billed cap promoting breast cancer awareness I got my first real food in almost a week and Oh, wow! I tore into that first burger and fries like a shark into a baby seal.

Carefully obeying every speed limit, I continued due south now. An hour later I pulled into the parking lot of a very nice hotel and parked in the back. Rambo must'a been looking because he came waddling -his version of running- out before I had the engine turned off. Grabbing the sports bag I decided that no one in their right mind was going to steal this clunker-mobile with millions of dollars inside it in the next two hours and, locking the car door, met him halfway.

Rambo surprised the shit out'a me when he wrapped me in his arms and gave me a hug. Releasing me just as quickly with a, "Gawd damn you stink!" He was way beyond ecstatic as he led me to the room he'd rented. He kept repeating, "You're not gonna believe this, you're not gonna believe this, you're not gonna believe this..."

He was right. One look at the suite he'd rented and I didn't believe it. "The honeymoon suite? You booked us into a honeymoon suite?"

"Hey, it's a perfect excuse for two people to disappear into for a week and not come out."

"Be a lot better if you weren't queer."

"Be a lot better if you were six feet tall with muscles and a dick down to your knees, but you don't see me complaining. Besides, check out the bathtub. Big enough for you to swim in all day."

"Now that is a definite plus," I conceded, rubbing at a patch of black crud that had formed in the crease of my elbow.

"But that isn't the best part! I did the math waiting for you. Guess, just fucking guess, how much is in that bag! Guess. Go on, guess!" Jesus, Rambo was actually giddy. I've never seen him so happy.

"Well, if I have to guess I'd say about a hundred pounds," I replied as I let the bag's strap slide off my shoulder. I let it fall onto the bed with a thump and stretched my aching back muscles. I was about to make Rambo guess what I had out in the car when he put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye.

"Eight... hundred... and... ninety... million... dollars!"

I sat with a thump onto the bed next to the bag. Holy fucking shit! With the cash in the car this was easily a billion dollar heist! "You're fucking me!"

"I fuck you not, Sugar Tits. If I'm wrong and it's just, just, eight hundred million and the buyer is prepared to go twenty-five cents to the dollar that's two hundred million dollars! One hundred million for each of us!"

I was in shock. Never, not even in my wildest daydreams, had I thought we'd get that much out'a that vault. I was still in shock when Rambo handed me a cell phone. "Here. It's a throw-away. Call the buyer."

I could only nod as I punched in a memorized number. This number was to be used only by me. It took a few seconds for the connection to be made in Sicily and then, "Aww, my wonderful Granddaughter! It's been so long since we last spoke. I thought that maybe you had forgotten your poor Grandpapa."

"Oh, Grandfather, how could I forget you? You were so wonderful to me on my visit. How are you? How is Giancarlo?"

"Ahh, I am well as old man can be. Giancarlo is fine. Very fine. His mama has found a wonderful woman for him to marry. I expect many, many babies for me to spoil."

I felt a pang of jealousy thinking that it might have been me marrying Gi. I pushed that thought away. It wasn't possible any more after what had happened. "Well, I wish them many babies, too, Grandfather. I hope they have a billion babies!"

There was silence on the line and then laughter, "A billion babies? Oh, surely that is to much. What woman could carry a billion babies?"

"Well, maybe I exaggerate, Grandfather, but not by much. You know, Grandfather, I enjoyed our last time together so much I was hoping we could meet again soon. I think it would make both of us very happy."

"Well, with me expecting now a billion babies I will need time to make ready. You Americans have a holiday soon? Your Day of Independence? Why not we meet then at night our place we spoke of? We can watch the fireworks and we celebrate Giancarlo and his billion babies to come, no?"

"I think the night of the Fourth of July will be perfect, Grandfather," I said and gave Rambo a thumbs up. "I'll bring the fireworks. Bye now."

"So, it's all set," Rambo asked anxiously. "Fourth of July at the place down south?"

"All set. I'm sure Grandfather Carlos will have the funds ready to transfer into the accounts we bring him and it's all wine and roses after that."

"Perfect," Rambo said, taking the phone back and handing me a plastic hotel cup. "Wine later, but for now a toast with champagne. May you always get what you deserve."

I laughed and drained the cup while Rambo did the same. "A good toast, Rambo. But, yuck!, couldn't you have bought the good stuff you cheap bastard? This tasted awful. Now, I can't wait any longer. I need a shower and then a long, long soak in the tub. And I've got a surprise for you," I added as I walked over to my luggage Rambo had brought with him. I couldn't wait any longer for the longest, hottest shower of my life. As I bent down to pick up my bag the first spasm hit me in the stomach and I vomited all over the floor next to my suitcase. Stomach heaving up another spew, I hit the floor on my hands and knees.

Behind me Rambo's gloating voice rejoiced. "What's the matter, Sugar Tits? Something you ate? Or maybe drank? Must be something you drank. I certainly gave you enough to kill a horse!" Even through my pain I could hear the triumph in his voice. I had another cramp in my stomach as drool mixed with more vomit came out of my mouth. Rambo came over and drove his shoe into my stomach and I hit the floor on my side as another gush of vomit, bile and French fries came spewing out.

Rambo laughed and kicked me again. "That's for every time I had to listen to you boss me around." Another kick, "That's for every time you treated me like I was an idiot." Another kick. "I've got four Master Degrees -kick- and you treated me like a slow -kick- dimwit." I wasn't really paying attention to Rambo. With every kick more vomit drooled out to pool on the floor under my head. By the last kick I had nothing left but bile to come up.

I didn't even feel my bladder go. Just the wetness. I'm pretty sure from the smell that anything in my ass came out, too. Rambo smelled it, also. With a last kick to my stomach he backed away. "Goddamn you're a sorry mess. I was thinking about fucking your ass while you died, but now? I'll just satisfy myself with two hundred million instead of one."

"He'll kill you, Rambo..." I had to force the words out.

"Why? I'll be there with the diamonds and a sob story about you and a traffic accident. I'm sure that between now and the meeting someone will have a traffic accident I can say was yours. Just poor damned luck. I'll be there with the diamonds and he'll pay me. Just good business after all."

Rambo came into sight carrying a towel he stuffed around the crack under the door. "Rooms paid up for the next week. The Do Not Disturb sign is on the door and I don't want the stink of you to cause anyone to come in sooner. See? I even remembered to turn the AC all the way down. Be an ice box in here soon. You should still be in pretty decent shape when they discover your corpse."

When he moved away I couldn't move my head to follow him but I could still hear him. "Champagne poured out. Bottle and cups in my bag. I made sure not to touch anything but the door knobs before you showed up and a wipe to them and they're gone." Suddenly Rambo's gloating face was almost nose to nose with mine. "How am I doing? You always accused me of not being able to plan and, yet, I think I planned a pretty good murder here. I took down the hotel's security cams before I checked in. The only thing the police will have is a week old description that can fit half the male population and the fake name and ID I used to check in."

His face went away and he kicked me again causing a little more bile to come up. "I am merciful though. The poison I used paralyses your voluntary muscles first. That's why you can't move in case your grade school education didn't teach you that. Then it slowly paralyses your involuntary muscles and you'll breath less and less. You'll just fall into a nice sleep before you die. I think it's kind'a fitting that the girl who was always soooo concerned about cleanliness will be found in a pile of her own shit and vomit."

I was feeling sleepy. I knew when Rambo left the room to take his luggage to his car. I knew when he came back. Heard him grunt as he picked up the heavy bag of diamonds. I didn't hear the door close behind him.