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“Viscount, now that we’re down to just nine contestants, several of whom you,” he coughs delicately, “know intimately. Perhaps you won’t find it too difficult to tell us how you’re feeling as this challenge moves along.”
“What do you want me to say, Mr Dott?” I scowl, watching the monitors and realising that Cat looks set to land miles away from where Thorun has just landed.
‘Anything could happen before she gets there. Fucking hell.’
The director flaps his clipboard to gain my attention
“Perhaps, Viscount, I could flash-card names, and you could tell me how you’ll think they’ll do?”
I frown as I watch Sona approach Thorun and help her out of her parachute before taking out a map, the two considering it together.
“Fine, Mr Dott.”
“And… Action!”
The first name on the list is Miranda.
“The Australian is resourceful and not unused to the dry desert heat, given where she comes from. I think she’s going to do well in this contest now that her arm is healed and she’s running at full capacity.
Her sense of humour will likely also stand her in good stead.
Silke is at a distinct disadvantage because she still has a leg in plaster, but if she concentrates on just collecting keys and making it to the end, she has the capacity to perhaps win.
Claire is a bit of a wild card; she clearly knew how to skydive, as did Vasiliki, so those two already have a lead on the others. ”
I take a deep breath and consider what to say about the last four.
I’d been surprised at how the group had split towards separate helicopters.
Some of the alliances seem to be shifting, but I can’t say anything about that because apart from Cat and Thorun, and perhaps Sona, I’m not truly sure who’s likely to work together.
“Cat, Sona and Thorun have worked together in the past. I suspect they’ll do so again.
Sitting in separate choppers may have been part of a strategy; Catriona is very clever at game plan.
As for the last two competitors, Cherry surprises me every challenge, and Amadea has aligned with her in the past, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they work together. ”
“Cut!”
“And who do you think will try to eliminate another competitor tonight, Viscount? Can you expand on their likely strategies?”
“No.”
“Just a few words?”
“No.”
“No need,” Starlen says. “I believe I have all the dirt on who might hold a grudge.”
“Terrific,” the director gushes, “are you ready to start your commentary now?”
“Almost.”
As the new make-up woman touches up his flawless powdered face I turn back to the nine small screens set up on a stand, and frown as Cat’s screen turns black.
“Director!”
He and Starlen turn to me as I point to the monitors.
“Something’s happened to Cat.”
“The Italian?” Starlen sneers. “Let’s not be too concerned, shall we?”
“I beg your pardon?”
He shrugs, and Gerry looks nervously away.
“Mr Dott, Starlen, is there something you’d like to share?”
“It’s not anything really,” Gerry says quickly, “it’s just that the selectors suggested that should she be attacked or kidnapped during this challenge we shouldn’t compromise the integrity of the Game by interfering.”
“Compromise the integrity?” I snarl. “What fucking integrity? This whole competition is designed to compromise the integrity of every participant, to break down some of the world’s best women into their basest parts, to make them exhibit their worst traits and turn on each other like wild animals for the audience’s viewing pleasure. There’s no integrity here!”
“He meant,” Starlen clears his throat, “the integrity of the structure of the Game. We can’t allow wild cards to keep breaking up the routine and ruining the audience's expectation of how the contests and the Game itself will operate. If the Italian is taken the selectors will hunt down those responsible and destroy them to ensure no future Games are meddled with. We won’t mention that on the show, of course; we’ll simply say she was eliminated. ”
“So, you’re just going to sacrifice a player for the greater good,” I glower at him.
“Sacrifice is a loaded word,” he shrugs, “given your sentiments they’re all being sacrificed, wouldn’t you say?”
“Not this one.”
“Sorry?”
A thought springs unbidden to mind as I say this: ‘There will be no other.’
“I said not this one. Get your crew out there on their dirt bikes and get her a new camera.”
“This could be part of her strategy,” Starlen suggests, shrugging, “you said yourself she plays a good game.”
“It’s not.”
The director looks at Starlen before shaking his head.
“I’m afraid…”
“You will be,” I growl, “very, very afraid for a very, very long time before I ultimately end your pathetic existence.”
“Ah, Viscount, please...”
“Get the camera to her NOW!”
Swallowing hard he does as suggested, ignoring Starlen’s murmured objection, and I turn again to watch the monitors.
Silke has chosen not to make a slow and steady route to the end and is instead turning towards the far edge of the town, presumably in search of weapons.
All the other competitors seem to be making for their first key, except Amadea, who has made it to the top of one of the buildings and is staring out into the desert, at someone far, far in the distance, jogging towards the city.