January had arrived in Barnsley.
It did not arrive with a whisper. It arrived with a scream of freezing wind and a blanket of snow thick enough to bury a small dog.
Michael Sterling stood inside the reception of the Sterling Era Training Complex. The heating was on full blast. He was checking his watch every thirty seconds.
Today was the day.
The first of January. Transfer Day.
Arthur Milton stood next to him. The old scout was wearing two coats and a scarf that covered everything except his eyes.
"Are you sure they landed?" Arthur asked. His voice was muffled by the wool. "The roads are terrible. They might be stuck in Leeds."
"They landed," Michael said. "I tracked the flight. They are in a taxi. They should be here any minute."
Michael was nervous. He had spent months building this moment in his head. He had spent System Points. He had negotiated with directors in Uruguay and Japan. Now, the reinforcements were finally here.
