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have rocketed. The scarcity of the drug has resulted in unprecedented outbreaks of violence to control the last remaining stocks and a flood of counterfeit pills on the streets. The fakes look almost identical, bearing the now-notorious red spider logo, but that’s where the similarity ends. These pills contain lower-quality ingredients and typically include other dangerous drugs like fentanyl and sometimes are cut with cement, plaster, or even rat poison. A growing number of fatalities has already been reported in connection with the counterfeit pills. But it is not just counterfeiters who have produced dangerous versions of the Spider’s Bite. The FBI discovered about half a ton of identical-looking pills in the basement of the building behind me. These pills contain brewed heroin of inferior quality––believed to be from an earlier experimental production run––together with PCP and a drug known as Tiroflen. Quite how many of the pills from this batch were put into circulation by Vargas is not known, but the FBI warn these pills are believed to produce very serious side effects.”

“Christ! The Voids still get their blood as people fight over the last remaining pills!” John said.

Jennifer shushed him as the picture switched back to the studio and a serious-faced female anchor in her thirties, with former prom queen looks.

“The FBI has made a macabre discovery during their investigation into other businesses owned by Vargas, who is commonly nicknamed El Gordito. It has also been found that the drugs empire included an organ-harvesting operation, a crime that will result in further charges being made against the drug lord and staff at a private medical research facility located in the basement of Hargreave Merciful Hospital in Manhattan. In addition, we understand that there is an investigation underway at the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in New York.”

The cameras switched to the co-anchor, a mellow voiced man, about twenty years his co-host’s senior:

“In an unexpected twist, the FBI found that El Gordito’s empire was not the only beneficiary of the millions of dollars from his drug and organ trafficking business. A large share of the proceeds went to Tactical Consulting, a private military contractor, wholly owned by an ex-special services soldier by the name of Gabriel Quinn. Details have not yet been released, but it is believed Quinn was arrested in connection with the murder of Detective Daniel Lazlo of the NYPD and shot by an unidentified sniper while in police custody. Detective Lazlo, who will be buried with full honors this Wednesday, had tirelessly attempted to bring El Gordito to justice for many years.”

The camera switched back to the female anchor, who continued with other news. Jennifer muted the sound on the television.

They said nothing for a few minutes before John broke the silence. “Something just doesn’t make sense. It’s been bothering me since I remembered it.”

“What doesn’t make sense?”

“What Nikki, the girl spirit, said.”

The mention of the spirit’s name brought back their memories of The Game. They had no doubts it was still in play, sinister and far-reaching, continuing to cause atrocities and suffering. Despite its formidable complexity, they had managed, through a series of fortunate events, to manipulate its course and to defeat Santiago’s spirit. But now that they were both mortal, they were just as powerless and vulnerable to it shaping their futures as everyone else on the planet.

“What did she say?” Jennifer asked.

“She said ‘A star is born’ when Chapman learned that Lazlo had been shot. I think she meant he would be a star in The Game.”

“Like Lazlo would be a new player to spread evil? How is that possible? He did everything he could to convict El Gordito!”

“What if he only appeared to be doing everything he could? Think about it—he was hardly effective. He almost botched every possible prosecution by mishandling evidence.”

“The constant lawsuits did make El Gordito practically untouchable, but I can’t believe––” Jennifer said, doubtfully, before John interrupted.

“Then there’s his house—the brownstone in Astoria. It’s got to be worth millions, and all the antiques and paintings inside. He could never afford it on a detective’s salary.”

“He said he bought the house with inheritance money and those were pieces from an antiques business once ran by his family.”

“All back in Hungary and difficult to check, I would imagine. Didn’t he say that his name was common too? That would make it even harder for anyone in the States to verify his family history. I suspect there was no antiques business, no rich relatives. He bought everything we saw with the money he got from Vargas.”

“OK, so let’s say he was on El Gordito’s payroll . . . Why would he set the health department people onto the nightclubs and ICE onto El Gordito’s workforce?”

“Perhaps he was sending a message to El Gordito. Remember how pissed he was when he found out that El Gordito was manufacturing a new drug?”

Jennifer agreed. “He was so confused.”

“He thought he knew all about El Gordito’s operation and here was a much bigger and more profitable operation that he was protecting without even knowing it,” John added as he saw a look of recognition spread across Jennifer’s face.

“He probably organized the raids to threaten El Gordito into giving him more money. I’m guessing he was told to go to hell. Lazlo then got lucky with the murders of the chefs. He found incriminating evidence which enabled him to make the arrests, but he knowingly acquired that evidence illegally to ensure that the conviction against El Gordito’s man, Hernandez, wouldn’t stand up during a trial.”

“To show El Gordito how close to the edge he could take him!” Jennifer interjected. “But then, when he got suspended, he was no use to El Gordito or his boss, Quinn, and they probably considered him a liability. With El Gordito in custody, Quinn put a kill order out on Lazlo through one of El Gordito’s men.” Jennifer added.

“Exactly!”

“And then things got worse for Lazlo. After you crashed the truck carrying the washing machines with the spider pills inside, even

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