The Draft Read Online Free Page A

boiling in their own jealousy (which, Jon could not help but admit, he enjoyed tremendously). To do something great in professional sports was one thing. To make history  … well, that was something else. Sometimes just the thought of it kept him awake at night.
    Best of all, it was possible —the core of the club was still together, they were all still young enough to remain in top form, and there had been no changes to the coaching staff or even the front-office personnel. The chemistry remained; it looked very much like the Baltimore Ravens were on their way to making history.
    After all, only a cruel twist of fate could stop them.
    *   *   *
    The Ravens’ offices were located in a magnificent modern facility in the Maryland suburb of Owings Mills, a twenty-minute ride from the stadium. They were well secured and off limits to the public.
    At the front gate, Jon waved to Gary Stone, the Ravens’ head of security. Stone possessed a deep loyalty to Jon, who hired him. They had been classmates in high school and kept in touch when they went to separate colleges. Stone joined the FBI shortly after graduation and traveled overseas for a few years. When he returned to the states, he left the agency to be a private investigator but found the work distasteful—too many sleazy divorce cases—and wanted out. Jon heard about this and happened to be looking for someone reliable and experienced to work for the team. He wanted either ex-military or ex-FBI, which was a common criteria when it came to security positions in the NFL. Stone was the perfect choice.
    They briefly exchanged small talk, then Jon pulled through the gates and into his space near the front of the main building. Access required a security code on a keypad. Once inside, he turned everything on, then went to a small locker room reserved for the coaches and front-office echelon. It was similar in appearance to any scholastic locker room, with rows of steel boxes, wooden benches bolted to a tiled floor, and a set of showers.
    Morning workouts had been part of his routine since he was a teenager. They were common not only to the players but to everyone who worked for an NFL club. The prevailing attitude throughout the league seemed to be that workouts were the proper way to start the day. They certainly were for him. A good workout provided the stamina he needed to get through the demanding twelve-to-sixteen-hour days without those sloggy, low-energy periods. And the solitude afforded him the opportunity to collect his thoughts and focus on current priorities.
    After he showered and dressed, he returned to his paneled office. It was less dramatic and luxurious than one might expect for a man in such an exalted, high-profile position. It was relatively small, with a walnut desk and a computer, a few framed photographs of Kelley and Lauren, and three large windows overlooking the practice field. There was no wet bar, no cabinet humidor filled with Cuban cigars, no plush deep-pile carpeting. Most general manager’s offices were like this one. Contrary to common belief, high-ranking team executives weren’t pampered by any means. The only true luxury item Jon had was a new Volvo sedan, and even that was leased by the team. If a GM wanted toys, he had to buy them himself.
    Early April was draft time, and for a general manager that meant busy. As Jon got into his comfortable leather swivel chair, he remembered how he used to think when he was a kid, like any other ordinary fan, there was very little activity in a professional football club during the off season. It didn’t take him long to realize this was dead wrong, especially for the administrators. Pro football had its “down time,” but in positions like his it was only for a few weeks at the end of spring. Early September could also bring a simmering once everything was in place and attention turned to the players and the game. When that was over, however, a