9:35 P.M.

"Muleskinner Blues" by Dolly Parton can be heard playing from the ballroom.

With Salvatore's blade still pressed to your throat, you cry out, "Marston sent me! He wants to call it off!"

The Sheik screams in your ear, "I'M MARSTON, YOU IDIOT!"

Salvatore presses the blade against your throat so hard that it breaks the skin and says, "That's it..."

"No!" Marston says. "There are too many cops around...he's just some dumb kid who was probably snooping around where he shouldn't've been..."

"He knows too much," Salvatore argues.

"I don't think he'll be a problem," Marston says patting you on the back. It bothers you that you can't see what kind of look he might be giving to Salvatore. "Get him out of here...and you better make yourself scarce, too...I'll give you a call when the dust settles. Here's a little something for your time."

Marston hands Salvatore a thick wad of bills; the craggy Sicillian sticks them in his pocket, then retracts the switchblade and pulls out a .44 Beretta with a silencer and sticks it in your ribs. "Okay, chuckie," he says, "you and me is gonna go for a ride, see? If anybody asks, just keep your pie-hole shut. Lemme do the talking and maybe you won't wake up dead tomorrow. Now move."

Marston opens the south door and Salvatore pushes you into the kitchen, where you see Brother Foooz, holding a 35mm camera and talking to a policeman.

If you keep your mouth shut and see what happens next, click here.

Click here to switch to Brother Foooz.