A Transcript of the tape found at crime scene

"Merry Christmas Scum! - You have six presents, open five. Only one
will kill you, so choose carefully!"

The Inquisitor's instructions.

I've already begun. My first gift, a Dictaphone. Under normal
circumstances I'd be delighted - Sony TL250 no less! But this isn't
normal, hasn't been for weeks.

You must forgive me for not explaining, only there's a time limit
(another instruction).

I'll dictate. Explain later if I'm lucky.

How might death come, I wonder? Gift-wrapped gas? Odourless, my lungs
filling oblivious?

Perhaps.

Anyway, number two. Open, fold by fold?

Ah?

A CD - funeral music. Very funny, though not entirely surprising. The
Inquisitor likes jokes.

He prefers kidnapping.

And pain.

Maybe he's planned a bomb, a booby trapped box, my fingers fumbling
with the lid, connecting wires.

Unlikely. Too much noise. Too risky for him. Wherever we are.

So, two down. Which next?

Eaney, meaney, what will its shape be? Soft one, hard one, large one,
small? How's my end been packaged? You've probably wondered yourself.
Though not like this.

Right, present number three. Nice big one!

Quick shake.

Something loose?

An irritable cobra? Hood spread and fang flexing? Perhaps there's venom
on the wrapping, perhaps it's too late, my skin already welcoming
toxins: Come aboard friendly poisons, make yourselves at home. The
heart? Yes of course, first left, then straight on, you can't miss
it!

Better hurry up.

Time ticks.

Hasn't it always?

Ok, nothing to be afraid of. Nice tight grip, tear verrrrry verrrry
gently at the pap