It was 8:00 AM. Michael was sitting in his office, nursing a coffee that Enzo hadn't made (so it tasted like mud), staring at a pile of paper that was slowly consuming Arthur Milton's desk.
"Make it stop," Michael whispered. "Arthur, kill it. Unplug it. Pour jelly babies into the gears."
"I can't, Boss!" Arthur wailed, looking like a man drowning in a sea of A4 paper. "It's the agents! They smell blood! They smell the Champions League money! It's like feeding time at the shark tank!"
Kenji Sato was pacing the room. The billionaire owner wasn't wearing his usual silk kimono or flight suit. He was wearing a grey hoodie, hood up, looking like an angry teenager.
"Ungrateful," Kenji muttered, kicking a wastepaper basket. "I buy them a plane. A purple plane with massage seats! I buy them a stadium! I buy them a butcher from Argentina! And this is how they repay me?"
Michael picked up the top sheet of paper.
OFFER: PARIS SAINT-GERMAIN
TARGET: KAITO TANAKA
FEE: £80,000,000
