"What do you want to do?" Valverde asked after a moment of contemplation.
"I sent an offer before, but it was rejected. Ernesto, you should be very clear about what kind of talent this is. If nothing unexpected happens, his future achievements could even surpass Leo's. It can be said that he's a unique existence. I hope to bring such a talent to Barcelona before he's discovered by everyone. He can allow Barcelona to maintain strong competitiveness in the future, and now is also the easiest time to bring him here. Once he gradually enters the sights of many clubs, it won't be that easy to take him away then."
"Do you have his detailed information?"
"André Cristiano dos Santos Cleto, Portuguese. Cristiano Ronaldo's cousin. He previously entered Castilla because of CR7. This summer, he was brought to Oviedo by Fernando. He's sixteen years old."
"You said he was at Castilla before?"
"Yes."
"That's impossible. With the abilities of Santiago and Malono, they wouldn't just let him leave. Is he at Oviedo on loan?"
"No, his contract with Oviedo is for three years, with a release clause of thirty million. As for what you said, I find it very strange too. As far as I know, he stayed at Castilla for at least half a year, and I don't know why no one noticed."
"Then what do you want to do?"
"My previous offer to Real Oviedo was 7.5 million, but it was rejected by Fernando. You also know that's my maximum authority, so I hope to issue another offer to Oviedo in the name of the first team. Additionally, we can contact his agent. By the way, I've looked into it—his agent is Jorge Mendes. I believe once we contact Jorge and let an agent like him know the true value of his player, he won't allow his client to linger in a club like Oviedo. Furthermore, Real Oviedo's owner won't refuse the goodwill we extend."
"Alright, I'll arrange it. I must say you have a good eye. Such a player is worth our attention."
Sure enough, the second offer from Barcelona made Hierro feel a bit troubled, because the offer was made in the name of Barcelona Football Club, and the price was indeed very attractive: €10 million. Although for a player like Hierro who came from the Galácticos, a price tag of ten million wasn't much, Hierro knew that this price would definitely be very attractive to Banches.
Just as Hierro expected, not half an hour after he received the offer, Banches's call came through to his office.
"Fernando, it's me."
"I know. Mr. Banches, is there something you need?"
"I think you must have received Barcelona's offer, Fernando. I think you should carefully consider the other party's sincerity. I can promise you that if you agree, I'm willing to take half of this ten million and give it to the team for reinforcements."
"Boss, how about this: if the other party is willing to pay thirty million, I'll agree. I don't see any sincerity in this ten million. In fact, if you're willing to wait a year, then let alone ten million—no one will be able to take André away from here for less than thirty million. Now it depends on how you choose."
Banches was probably taken aback by Hierro's words all of a sudden. This kid who'd just started playing professional matches for less than two months, and whose total appearance record added up to less than one full match, was being valued at an exorbitant thirty million. Banches felt that if he said this to the people at Barcelona, they'd think he was a bloody fool.
"Fernando, isn't this a bit..."
"Boss, the people at Barcelona aren't idiots. We only played one match against them, and André was only on for less than twenty minutes. Why are they willing to spend ten million to buy André? Don't you see André's future value from this? I can say this: if you give me a year, the thirty million I just mentioned will only be a conservative figure."
Hierro knew that trying to persuade Banches by talking about ideals and sentiment was like talking to a brick wall. To persuade a pure businessman like him, profit was the only language.
Perhaps moved by the 'pie in the sky' Hierro painted, Banches relented.
"Alright, Fernando. I'm the one who invited you here, and I have absolute trust in you. I won't interfere in this matter anymore. You'll have full authority to handle it. Oh, by the way, the team's performance lately has been excellent."
After hanging up the phone, Hierro also felt the helplessness of being a small club head coach for the first time. But then the phone rang again.
"Hello, Fernando. I'm Jorge."
Hearing the voice from the other end of the phone, Hierro instinctively frowned. This was someone who wouldn't call unless he had an agenda.
"Mr. Jorge, is there something?"
"Nothing much. I'm just asking about André's situation lately."
"André? He's doing quite well lately. He's been a substitute for a few matches, his performance is good, and he's made great progress."
"Oh, is that so? Then I'm relieved. You know Cristiano cares about him very much, so I'm just calling to check in. Plus, I received a call from Alemany today, and he was also asking me about André's situation."
"Alright, Mr. Jorge, there's no need for us to beat around the bush. Tell me, what do you want?"
"I don't want anything, Fernando. As André's agent, my player is receiving attention from a big club like Barcelona. Shouldn't I ask about it?"
"Alright, I admit Barcelona has made an offer for André, but I rejected it. And I've already asked for André's opinion—he also agreed to stay."
"A very wise choice. Both Cristiano and I support André staying at Oviedo. However, Mr. Fernando, I think a player worth a ten million euro offer from Barcelona should have a reasonable income, don't you think?"
"Then what do you think is reasonable?"
"I think at least one million euros is the most reasonable."
"Jorge, that's impossible. This is bloody extortion. Do you know what the highest annual salary at Oviedo is? It's only 480,000. André is only sixteen years old and he's a substitute. You want such a player to take more than double our team's highest salary? That's impossible."
Hearing the number Mendes stated, Hierro suddenly felt a surge of blood rush to his head. He felt that if Mendes appeared in front of him at this moment, he'd definitely throw the phone right at his face. Hierro gripped the phone tightly, the veins on the back of his hand bulging. It was clear how angry Hierro was at this moment. He even felt that Mendes was more detestable than those bastards from Barcelona.
"Fernando, Fernando, calm down. I understand your situation, but you must also understand mine. I have a responsibility to my client. André is receiving offers from Barcelona—one of the biggest clubs in the world. His value has been established. If his salary doesn't reflect that, how can I justify it to him? To Cristiano?"
"Don't you dare use Cristiano's name to pressure me, Jorge."
"I'm not pressuring you, Fernando. I'm simply stating facts. André deserves to be compensated fairly."
"Fair? Fair would be €500,000. That's already generous for a sixteen-year-old substitute who's played less than ninety minutes total."
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
"€750,000. That's my final offer, Fernando. Take it or leave it."
Hierro closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
"I'll need to discuss this with Banches."
"Of course. Take your time, Fernando. But not too long. Barcelona is watching. And they're not the only ones."
The line went dead.
Hierro sat there, staring at the phone in his hand.
Jorge Mendes was a predator. And right now, André was the prize everyone wanted.
The question was: how long could Hierro keep him?
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