Again and again Sam let the IV stand crash down. After a few strokes, she became violently nauseous. Sam turned to the side, choking bitter bile upwards. She looked at her work. The foot of the infusion stand had struck deep dents in the skin. Sam saw bones, pink mass and shredded skin. She took two steps to the right. Again the stand crashed on the bodies. The girls and boys twitched like a macabre dance. On and on, she drew a circle around her deformed body.

Her shoulders and arms hurt. You have to meet him there, where it hurts. He has to be stunned so he can not think straight. Destroy his life's work. Although Sam knew that these were not real children, not even their corpses, she felt torn inside. She hated Summersby for what he had done to the children and for Sam to rush over the remains of his victims like a furious fury. Breathing heavily, Sam threw the stand aside. It was almost done. A victim was not in the pile in front of Sam's feet. She had to put her joker. Summersby's likely first victim—Danielle. Sam was almost at the end of his body.

Using her last strength reserves, she pulled Danielle's body backwards through the corridor towards the curtain. Sam's breath caught and time seemed to stretch like chewing gum as the fabric behind the marble column moved in sluggish waves. The adrenaline rushed through Sam's body like an electric shock. It was over with exhaustion. She tucked Danielle under her arm and sprinted off. The metal plate stuck to the edge of the arch and tangled in the curtain. Pan pulled Sam more and more vigorously to Danielle shoulders.

She heard the metal plate hit the masonry. Finally the plate came loose and fell to the floor, clattering. Sam staggered back with Danielle's body. She expected Summersby's squat figure and fat face to appear in the opening of the curtain at any moment. Sam balanced Danielle's body on the edge of the tub. She pulled on her so that she lay obliquely over a short and a long side. With a pounding heart and singing nerves Sam stared at the curtain.

She listened intently and meant to hear footsteps. But her blood rushed so loud in her ears that she just was not sure. The shrill scream Sam took note of with deep satisfaction. Summersby had discovered the empty rows. Sam laid a light hand on Danielle's body. "We'll give him the rest, little one." Sam pushed the leather folder back with her foot, into the gap between the tub and the wall. "Come on." she growled. Urgent steps to hear clearly this time. The curtain arched as Summersby tried to break through the folds like a wild bull.

In his blind rage, he tangled himself in the heavy material. The rings holding the curtain to the thick pole squeaked and scratched the smooth brass. The pole gave way and was torn from its holder. The upper part of the purple fabric fell down on the wild-headed Summersby. He finally shook the material off his body. His eyes fell on Sam. "You ..." he screamed loudly. Sam looked at him impassively and nodded at his ruined works. Summersby followed her gaze and yelled out his grunt. Sam hissed "Showtime."

She felt the wind in her hair and the pleasant coolness of the smooth leather on her bare back. Sam blinked and left the highway. She turned left at the next set of traffic lights and followed the signs to Downtown. Through ever gloomy alleys, past increasingly shabby facades she drove the car until she finally stopped in front of the poison green neon sign 'Zur Weihe'. Severely, Sam left the car on the road with the engine running, clutching the wheel with both hands. And now? Still deep in thought, she was shocked when a man in a black suit opened the driver's door.

He held out his hand to Sam and helped her get out. He looked appreciatively at Sam. "Welcome, devil angel, I park your car on a secure property." His tone was blase. "How do you know who I am?" "They were announced." Sam looked doubtfully at the locked front door. "The password is Tamara." Sam shuddered—how appropriate. The butler blend got behind the wheel and started with screeching tires. Sam walked slowly to the front door, immediately a square hatch was opened. A scowling black man stared at her.

"Password" "Tamara" The door swung open. Red light filled the room. "Welcome, devil angel." the muscular bouncer greeted her. Did everyone know here? What if Mephisto had hacked into her PC and guessed something was wrong? Benedict had assured her that it was impossible. Sam was less confident. After all, as an absolute beginner with precise instructions from a Mexican hacker under Brutus's strict supervision, she had occasionally cracked programs.

Without the directions, Sam would have been helpless, but at least she had succeeded sometimes. The doorman opened another door. Loud music lolled Sam. She remained indecisively. "Have fun," the bouncer wanted and gave Sam a gentle push. She entered the black-lit bar. In many dark niches she saw men and women sitting there watching her attentively. At the long counter the guests stood in two rows and drank green-lit cocktails. The bartenders wore red caps with devil horns.

Her muscular torsos were naked and her eyes glowed greenish white. Probably contact lenses that glowed in the black light. Suddenly, the man appeared in front of Sam, whom she had seen on her screen last night. He was dressed in black. His shirt was unbuttoned to the belly button. A silver chain rested on his bare chest.

On the chain hung three intertwined 6s. Mephisto. He kissed Sam left and right on the cheek. "You look breathtaking." He grabbed Sam's hand and pulled her past the counter under the interested eyes of the attending guests. Again and again they had to interrupt their walk, because black-clad men and women of various ages, who wore the same silver mark as Mephisto around their necks, stood in their way. They kissed Mephisto's right hand and pressed it against her forehead, mumbling something unintelligible.