The FaceTime call ended, leaving the screen of Enzo's iPhone black.
For a moment, the War Room was silent. It was the kind of silence you get after a bomb disposal expert cuts the red wire and waits to see if they explode.
"He said yes," Arthur Milton whispered, breaking the tension. He was lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling tiles. "If we beat Dortmund, we get the Next Messi. Is this real life, Boss? Or am I in a jelly baby-induced coma?"
"It's real, Arthur," Michael Sterling leaned back in his leather chair, exhaling a breath he felt like he'd been holding since Tuesday. "But 'if' is a heavy word. Dortmund isn't a Sunday League team. They're the Yellow Wall."
Kenji Sato was already on his phone, pacing frantically. "I am buying a llama. Julian is Argentinean. They like llamas, right? I will put it in the garden of his new house. It will be a welcome gift. Is a llama aggressive? Can Diego ride it?"
