He was baby-faced with a silly goatee that looked as if it'd been sketched on in pencil. He smoked a very long cigarette, or maybe it just appeared long against his tiny fingers.

'Now, Myron,' Otto said, 'let's speak rationally here, okay?'

'Rationally. Let's.'

'Great, Myron, that'll be helpful. The truth is, Christian Steele is an unknown, untested quantity. He hasn't even put on a pro uniform yet. He may be the bust of the century.'

Larry snorted. 'You should know something about that, Bolitar - about players who amount to nothing. Who crap out.'

Myron ignored him. He had heard the insult before. It no longer bothered him. Sticks and stones and all that. 'We are talking about perhaps the greatest quarterback prospect in history,' he replied steadily. 'You made three trades and gave up six players to get his rights. You didn't do all that if you didn't believe he has what it takes.'

'But this proposal' - Otto stopped, looked up as though searching the ceiling tiles for the right word - 'it's not sound.'

'Crap is more like it,' Larry added.

'It's final,' Myron said.

Otto shook his head, the smile unfazed. 'Let's talk this through, okay?

Let's look at it from every conceivable angle. You're new at this, Myron - an ex-jock reaching for the executive brass ring. I respect that. You're a young guy trying to give it a go. Heck, I admire that. Really.'

Myron bit down. He could have pointed out that he and Otto were the same age, but he so loved being patronized. Didn't everybody? 'If you make a mistake on this,' Otto continued, 'it could be the sort of thing that destroys your career. Do you know what I mean? Plenty of people already feel that you're not up to this - to handling such a high-profile client. Not me, of course. I think you're a very bright guy. Shrewd. But the way you're acting…' He shook his head like a teacher disenchanted with a favorite pupil.