The Myron Bolitar Series 7-Book Bundle by Harlan Coben Page B

knocking down field goals at the far goal post. Punters boomed slow lazy arcs high into the air. Several players turned and spotted Christian. A buzz developed. Myron ignored it. He had spotted his target, sitting in the first row on the fifty-yard line.
    Otto Burke sat like Caesar at the Colosseum, that damn smile still plastered to his face, his arms spread over the seats on either side of him. Behind him sat Larry Hanson and a few other executives. Caesar’s senate. Occasionally Otto would lean back and award his entourage a comment that brought on aneurysm-like fits of laughter.
    “Myron!” Otto called out pleasantly, waving one of those tiny hands. “Come on over. Have a seat.”
    “Wait here,” Myron told Christian. He climbed the steps. The entourage, led by Larry Hanson, stood in unison and marched away.
    Myron snapped a salute at them. “Hut two, three, four. Right face.” No one laughed. Big surprise.
    “Sit down, Myron,” Otto said, beaming. “Let’s have a chat.”
    “You haven’t been returning my calls,” Myron said.
    “Did you call?” He shook his head. “I’ll have to get on my secretary about that.”
    Myron let out a deep breath and sat. “Why was Christian locked out?”
    “Well, Myron, it’s pretty simple, actually. Christian hasn’t signed his contract yet. The Titans don’t have time to invest in someone who may not be part of our future.” He nodded toward the field. “Do you see who’shere for a tryout? Neil Decker from Cincinnati. Fine quarterback.”
    “Yeah, he’s great. He can almost throw a spiral.”
    Otto chuckled. “That’s funny, Myron. You’re a very amusing man.”
    “I’m so glad you think so. Mind telling me what’s going on?”
    Otto Burke nodded. “That’s fair, Myron. So let’s talk frankly, shall we?”
    “Rationally, frankly, whatever you want.”
    “Great. We’d like to renegotiate your client’s contract,” he said. “Downward.”
    “I see.”
    “We feel your client’s value has depreciated.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    Burke studied him. “You don’t seem surprised, Myron.”
    “So what is it this time?” Myron asked.
    “What is what this time?”
    “Well, let’s start with Benny Keleher. You invited him to your house, plied him with booze, then had a cop arrest him on his ride home for drunk driving.”
    Otto looked properly shocked. “I had nothing to do with that.”
    “Amazing how he signed the next day. And then there’s Eddie Smith. You had compromising photographs of him taken by a private eye and threatened to send them to his wife.”
    “Another lie.”
    “Fine, a lie. So let’s cut to the chase, then. What has caused this sudden devaluation?”
    Otto sat back. He withdrew a cigarette from a gold case with a Titans emblem on the cover. “It’s something I saw in a rather lewd magazine,” he said. “Somethingthat truly disheartened me.” He didn’t look disheartened. He looked rather pleased.
    “A new low,” Myron said. “You should be proud.”
    “Pardon me?”
    “You set it up. The magazine.”
    Otto smiled. “Ah, so you knew about it.”
    “How did you get that picture?”
    “What picture?”
    “The one in the ad.”
    “I had nothing to do with it.”
    “Sure,” Myron said. “I guess you’re just a charter subscriber to
Nips.
”
    “I had nothing to do with that ad, Myron. Honestly.”
    “Then how did you get a hold of the magazine?”
    “Someone pointed it out to me.”
    “Who?”
    “I am not at liberty to discuss it.”
    “Very convenient.”
    “I’m not sure I like your tone, Myron. And let me tell you something else: You’re the one who has done wrong in the case. If you knew about the magazine, you had an ethical responsibility to tell me.”
    Myron looked up at the sky. “You used the word
ethical
. Lightning did not strike. There is no God.”
    The smile flickered but stayed on. “Much as we’d like to, Myron, we can’t just wish this away. The magazine exists, and it must be dealt