“However, I think we’re going to impose a new rule this year,” said Daniel. “If members of the audience get restless, they will express their displeasure using the good old-fashioned thumbs-down. If this vote becomes unanimous, you will then have thirty seconds to regain their approval. If you don’t, you die. Gunshot to the head. Bang.”

“Say what?” I demanded. “Are you threatening me?” I tried to sound more angry than scared.

“Andrew, c’mon. We’re just making things more interesting. This should be a cakewalk for you.”

“I don’t like being threatened,” I said.

“Yes, well, Mr. Headhunter, you’re down there and we’re up here, and it’s my lair of torture, and what I say goes. I have to say, you’re not quite the party animal I envisioned.”

“I’m not taking part in this. Open the door and let me out of here.”

Foster held out his hand, giving me thumbs-down.

“Uh-oh, looks like you’ve got audience displeasure already. Might wanna get started.”

“I’m serious, Daniel! Open the door!”

“I’m serious, too. Serious about fun! And you’re not having any, so have some, willya? This place was expensive.”

“This is your last warning!”

“Well, it looks to me like my dear wife has just given you your second warning, so I’d strongly suggest putting an end to the whining and start cutting! Or sawing, or burning, or poking, or something! ”

Okay, fine. I’d keep them entertained while I figured something out. There was a solution to this problem. I just had to hope that my own substantially-less-than-flawless brain could work it out.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “This whole thing is totally surreal. I wasn’t expecting anything quite so elaborate; it’s got me totally weirded out.”

“No need to apologize, my friend,” said Daniel. “Just relax and enjoy yourself.”

Well, the first part of his advice was good, at least. Relax. Relax. Relax. You’re on a sunny beach, sipping a drink with multiple umbrellas in it, with Helen standing there in a bikini, the red one with the cutout-no, that’s lewd, focus on the problem at hand.

At the very least, I could keep myself occupied for a while going through the weapons. And so I did, holding them up, inspecting them, and describing in great detail what I could do with them. There’s no reason for me to share exactly what I said, but it was graphic and vile beyond belief. I don’t even know what diseased part of my mind came up with those descriptions, but I had no choice.

The whole time, I kept trying to find a way out.

The door was locked. I had plenty of tools on hand, and given enough time and a little privacy, I could probably get out. But I didn’t have time or anything resembling privacy.

Even without the glass barrier, there wasn’t much I could do to the spectators, unless they all promised to sit there quietly and not move while I threw knives at them.

Of course, I could’ve killed Charlotte and been home free, but that wasn’t even remotely an option.

She looked terrified to the point of shock.

I continued going through the weapons, chatting away. There was no way to escape, so I needed to figure out how to get Daniel to end the event without Charlotte ’s death, and without my own death immediately afterward.

How could I reasonably not be expected to continue, even by Daniel’s standards?

A hostage. That was the only way.

“Y’know, now that I’m getting into this, it really is a fantasy come true,” I said. “But I’ve gotta tell you, I’ve got an even better fantasy.”

“And what would that be?” Daniel asked.

“I can’t think of anything in the world more fun than to shred this beautiful, helpless woman with the assistance of another beautiful woman. And I think I see one right now. Josie, would you like to come down here and help out?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, Andrew, it’s your show.”

“Oh, come on! I’ll take one end, you take the other! You can’t tell me that won’t be a thrill!”

“It probably would,” she admitted. “But this is your moment to shine, sweetie. Show us what you’ve got.”

“You’re not seriously going to refuse my number one fantasy in the entire world, are you?” I looked over at Daniel for support. “Back me up here.”

Daniel shrugged. “It’s up to her.”

“Sorry,” said Josie. “Maybe next year.”

“All right, fine. What about you gentlemen? Mortimer? Wanna grab a lawn mower and help me out?”

“Nah, I’m saving my energy for my turn.”

“Stan?”

“Uh-uh. Not how we do it.”

It wasn’t even worth the effort, but I looked over at Foster. He gave me a second thumbs-down.

There would be no hostage.

“Guess I’m on my own, then,” I said.

What could I possibly do? They weren’t going to let me out of here until Charlotte was dead.

I continued looking through the weapons, trying to focus. There had to be a way. There just had to. Then, miraculously, the idea came to me. But for it to work, I’d have to distract the others.

And the only way to sufficiently distract them was to do some horrible things.

Charlotte would probably hate and be repulsed by me forever, but if this worked, she’d be alive.

I’d been talking for ten minutes. It was time for action, before they got bored.

“I feel bad about wimping out like this, with such a fine selection,” I said, “but I’m afraid I’m going to have to go with that reliable old standard, the knife.” I picked up one with a narrow, four-inch blade. “Now, where to cut, where to cut? Hmmmm…”

I looked up at the spectators. “You know what? We’ve got a really serious problem down here.”

“And what would that be?” asked Daniel, annoyed.

“The victim down here. She’s wearing far too much clothing.”

Daniel perked up. “Then by all means, take care of the problem.”

“Oh, I will.”

Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut as I slid the dull edge of the blade across the side of her neck, and then cut her blouse down the front.

I was absolutely mortified while I did it, but I had to think of myself as a magician, drawing the audience’s attention away from the secret of the trick. Because for this to work, I’d have to do something almost unbelievably idiotic in their eyes, and it had to look like an accident.

They had to be completely distracted, and what could be more distracting than getting Charlotte naked?

So I didn’t stop with the blouse.

Or the bra.

In fact, when I was completely done, I spun the gurney around in a slow circle, giving everyone a perfect view. It was humiliating for me, probably excruciatingly so for Charlotte, but it was working. They were watching with appalling fascination. Even Josie.

“Much, much better,” I said, forcing myself to choke out the words. And then I set the knife down next to Charlotte ’s shoulder and returned to the carts.

“What next…ooooh, how about a blowtorch? I know just where a blowtorch would be the most fun, too. But no, how about something even more painful? How about pliers?”

I picked up the pliers and returned to the gurney. “You are incredible,” I told Charlotte. “I don’t know about the rest of the audience up there, but I’m less interested in killing you than other things, if you know what I mean.” I leaned down and bit her ear, hard enough that she let out a gasp.

Then I whispered to her.

I stood back up. “But, I’ve got work to do. Let’s get to the action. It’s time for this lovely lady to lose some fingers.”

I opened the pliers, and held the jaws over Charlotte ’s index finger. “Whoops, gotta play to the audience.” I unbuckled the strap binding her wrist, then held her arm up high for everybody to see. Then I got ready to close the pliers over her finger.

“No!” I said, my eyes wide as I pretended that an incredible idea had just occurred to me. “Forget the pliers! I wanna use the acid!”