Suddenly the loud revving of a motorcycle can be heard from outside the Hollywood director’s office window. Sam Peckinpah smiles slyly at me and says, “Jeff, I think you ought to move your chair.“
I sit tight as Steve McQueen bursts into the office. “These guys are journalists,” announces Peckinpah.
In a flash, McQueen pulls out a knife and hurls it into the wall near my head. Without flinching, I respond, “Now I know why you wanted me to move my chair.”
I receive a discreet message from the police commissioner asking me to pay a visit. He meets me on the steps of the imperial police headquarters, saying it’s too dangerous to speak inside. “Mon ami, I can no longer protect you. You are an anarchist and a provocateur. If you stay any longer in the Empire, you will certainly die. And I have no intention of joining you.”
Harmon: Tell me how you torture them.
Fernando(head of a right-wing death squad): Blowtorches in the armpits, electric shocks in the balls. There are many kinds of people involved in guerrilla warfare. There are the toughest ones, the tough ones and the weak ones. The weak ones we just tell them that we’re gonna kill them and they speak. The tough ones we have to beat them a little bit, then they speak. But the toughest ones, we have to pop their eyes with a spoon.