In the darkness, muffled moans pierced the silence of the room. Samar looked at the body that writhed beneath him without a trace of emotion on his taut face. He got no satisfaction from this, but he couldn't possibly avoid it too. As a bead of sweat trickled down his face, to his neck, into his undervest, he increased the pressure. The resulting scream, and a rush of uninhibited words, however, were pleasurable to his ears. Slowly he pulled off his booted foot from windpipe he was choking in the strong room under his club. The man who lay bound and bloodied on the floor lost consciousness. "Make sure he does not die," picking a small towel draped on the back of the lone wooden chair in the room he instructed his two men who were standing in the shadows before leaving. Outside, in a bare ante-room with a small table and chair, laid his shirt, cotton blazer, mobile, wallet and gun holster. Wiping the sweat off his face and blo
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