“You, PCO, you cut this off the air and you’re a dead man. You, cameraman, you come in close on Matision, here. He’s got something he wants to tell all his fans. Something about a little helper he’s got buried in his head.”

Matision’s face contorts with a combination of humiliation and fear. “No, no, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will,” says T.K. He sticks his rifle into Matision’s ear. “Or I’ll blow your head open and pick that receiver out of your brains. Either way, they find out. It’s just gonna be a lot less messy if you tell them instead of me. Now tell them.” He prods Matision hard.

“Yeah, yeah, O.K. I’ve-got-a-receiver-in-my-head.” His confession comes out as a single word.

“Who put it there?”

“He did.” He points toward Spencer. “Him and her together.” He includes Ida Moulay in his condemnation. “Five years ago. When I was just starting out. They talked me into it. I didn’t want to do it, but they talked me into it.”

“How does it work?”

“They feed me information during games. So I can stay on top of the action.”

“Does anybody else have one of these?”

Silence.

“Do they?” He pokes Matision again.

“Yeah. There’s one player on every team.”

“He’s lying,” shouts Spencer.

“Is he?” wonders T.K. aloud. He shoves Matision against the wall. “Come over here then.” He points his rifle at Spencer. “Give us your version.”

This is something Spencer hadn’t expected, something he hadn’t planned on, drawn up contingency schemes to counter. As his precious control slithers away, so, too, does his backbone. Lumbering meekly, he comes over and stands beside T.K.

T.K. puts his rifle against the base of Spencer’s neck. “Give us your side of the story.” He pushes the rifle upwards. “Is Matision telling the truth?”

Spencer mumbles something.

“Speak up. We can’t hear you. Is Matision telling the truth?”

“Yes, God damn you,” Spencer bawls. “But there’s nothing harmful in it. We’re only adding additional interest to the game.”

“Yeah,” says T.K., “that’s swell. I’m sure Eddie Hougart would have been real happy to hear that.” He points with his rifle. “Get over there with the rest.”

Spencer joins the others.

“Cameraman, point that thing at Matision,” T.K. commands. “I want the folks at home to have a really close-up view of his final performance.” He raises his rifle to shoulder level and sights down the barrel at Mansion’s head.

Matision begins to tremble. “No,” he babbles, “no, please.” He drops to his knees. “I didn’t want to do it. I confessed it just like you wanted me to. Please don’t kill me. Please. I don’t want to die. I never wanted to die. That’s the only reason I ever did it. Because I don’t want to die.”