Wine and Gun

But Herstal didn't give him this almost. He still held Balmond's wrist with one hand, and the knife in his hand had sunk into the bottom of the sternum of his prey in the next moment, and then pushed hard in the direction of the abdomen. pull--

This is exactly what he said to Albarino at the time, and his hand had also been running down Albarino's sternum until it touched his abdomen. At moments like these—the moment the hand falls on the skin, the moment when the knife sank into the flesh—the human skin and muscles are found to be so fragile and soft.

The knife in Herstal's hand was suddenly pulled out, and blood suddenly splashed out from the gap in the opponent's abdomen. The body in the severe pain rolled and struggled, and the internal organs continued to slide out of his open abdominal cavity with his fierce movements. A pool of bright red gathered on the ground.

"Will the guards find him if he made a noise?" Herstal asked.

"There are not many prison guards patrolling in that direction in the yard. If he makes some small moans, it should not attract people's attention." Isaac thought for a while, and quickly replied, "Of course, if he screams too much Miserable, it will definitely be discovered."

Herstal seemed to be thinking, his eyes were not on Isaac, but fell somewhere on his shoulder, as if there was no focus. But soon he nodded, and his eyes sharpened again: such sharp eyes were frightening, as if he was suddenly stared at by some kind of fierce wild shòu.

"I'll keep his mouth shut," Herstal said simply.

Isaac found that he didn't really want to know that the other party was going to gag the mouth of this unfortunate dying man. He realized that he might not like the answer very much.

Herstal's movements must be very fast, otherwise he will not be able to be good today.

Usually a pianist would slowly dismember his prey and finally strangle his prey, but today Herstal turned a blind eye to the guts that flowed all over the place. The smell of blood in the lumber shed has grown stronger, and under normal circumstances, a Westland pianist would be willing to slowly appreciate the process.

——Unfortunately, he does not have much time today.

Hestal walked over, carefully avoiding the pool of blood on the ground, grabbed the man who had fallen into a coma due to excessive blood loss within dozens of seconds, and escaped him to the predetermined position - a room in the timber shed. A thick beam.

He threw the unconscious Balmond under the beam, and soon he would die of blood loss, in which case there was no need to bother to kill him any other way. Usually the pianist would strangle the victim with strings, but this time he was commissioned, and he didn't want to write the line "I am the Westland pianist" in front of the police, so this link can be done. Skip for now.

Herstal untied a long rope from under the prison uniform lightly and quickly: the rope consisted of a pile of rags connected end to end, and the rags came from Pfister. A prison uniform stolen from the laundry room. He threw the rope neatly across the beam, made a loop on it, and then used the rope to hoist Balmond up, not even bothering to see if the other party died during the whole process, it was sooner or later.

It is definitely not an easy task to lift a dead man who is more than 1.9 meters tall and as heavy as a strong bear. Fortunately, although Herstal has lost a lot of weight, he has not lost much muscle.

And then again, he's really, really experienced in hanging people from ceilings.

In the end, Balmond was hung up like a fan of pork that had been gutted and cleaned, dripping with blood like rain. Herstal wrapped his intestines around his neck and hung the rest with a rope - he did hang the man directly from the ceiling with his intestines, as he told Albarino. , but it turns out that no one has such tough guts - and pile that gully all over Balmond's body.

If he had enough time, he might be willing to let Balmond hold his heart in both hands, which would be an interesting picture. But as I said before, Herstal doesn't have enough time today. He doesn't mind making the scene rough, just like the artist is always sincere when he is creating for himself, but it will be much rougher when he is creating for Party A. .

Herstal rubbed the blood on the prisoner's hem indiscriminately and checked the scene for bloody fingerprints.

Everything was planned, and he stared calmly at the scene in front of him.

He must get out of here quickly.

"The most important thing is that the process of going to the lumber shed and leaving must not be discovered by any prison guards," Isaac said.

"But it's almost impossible," Herstal retorted coldly. "To reach the timber shed, you have to cross the yard and walk at least 200 meters. How can you not be seen by the prison guards and captured by the camera during the whole process? arrive?"

And Isaac just grinned: "That's why my gang and I are the people most familiar with the new Tucker federal prison."

A sheet of paper was spread out on the table in front of them, and Isaac scribbled out the shape of the yard on it with a pencil in his hand—the guards only provided them with pencils, probably for fear of a deranged inmate poking a ballpoint pen into someone’s skull— —Then the pencil landed on a narrow area against the wall.

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