Once upon a time at One Center Court an intercom buzzed in an inner office located deep in the Vulcan wing.
“Yes?” a male voice said, irritated by the interruption.
“Sir?” replied a female voice from an outer office, “there is a Detective Burkhardt from the Portland Police here to see you. He says he can only talk to the tightest lipped management person, and that’s you, sir.”
“Burkhardt? The name’s familiar. Did he say what he wants?”
“Only that he can help if he can talk to the right person.”
“A cop? Alright, I’ll see him. Bring him back.”
Two minutes later a tall, dark haired man introduced himself as Nick Burkhardt and sat across the desk.
“You look familiar,” the man behind the desk said.
“Maybe you’ve seen me on television.”
The man behind the desk snapped his fingers and said, “That’s it. I gotta tell you, Nick, I don’t buy into your show.”
“You should. You got a Charmenganzer in the outer office.”
“A what?!”
“A Charmenganzer. Something that can get whatever it wants out of you after it makes eye contact.”
“Is it an agent? Must be! There are some agents I just can’t say no to even when it makes no sense to say yes!”
“No, it’s not an agent. I won’t tell you who it is because it won’t make any difference. You can’t say no.”
“And you saw this . . . thing?”
“I’m a Grimm.”
“Well, okay, and thanks for nothing if I can’t say no.”
Detective Nick Burkhardt leaned forward in his chair and pushed hair off his forehead.
“I’m a basketball fan,” he said, “plus being a Grimm. I haven’t been a Grimm all that long so it didn’t start to make sense until the lockout ended. Some of the players in your league, shall we say, are playing with an unfair advantage.”
“What the hell does that mean?!”
“Ever hear the expression ‘the guy is an animal on the boards’? There’s more truth in that than anyone would ever guess, unless they’re a Grimm, like me.”
“But what the hell does it mean?”
“Dwight Howard. He’s a Blutbad.”
“Blutbad?”
“You people have popularized a Blutbad as the big bad wolf. When Howard’s fanged out he can jump higher and claw his way to get whatever he wants.”
“Even if I believed this, what good does it do me?”
“I can do two things for you. I can spot them, and if I’m sitting under your basket they can spot me. They’ll hold back because Blutbads and other creatures are afraid of a Grimm. You might say I can de-fang them for you. Plus, I can find you a Blutbad of your own.”
“We had one but he got hurt.”
“Blutbads don’t get hurt.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
“So can a Blutbad, any Blutbad, bite our guy and change him into one?”
“Like, can Dwight Howard suck Greg Oden’s blood and Oden is both miraculously healed and will never be hurt again as he becomes an animal on both offense and defense?”
“That’s it! Exactly!”
“No. It doesn’t work that way.”
“Nick, you got my hopes up. You said you haven’t been this – Grimm – or whatever you are very long. Are you sure it doesn’t work the way we want?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Not the same as sure,” the Vulcan man said, rocking back in his chair. “We’ll pay good money if you can get Oden on the court and playing like an animal every night. Very good money. So far we’ve paid this guy $20 million for squat, and just signed on for more! He ought to be happy for a little blood transferring.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t work that way. Blutbads are born. It’s in their blood at birth. Let me do what I can to help the Blazers.”
“Sitting under the basket, those tickets are expensive and I don’t think there are any available.”
“I’ll need two, actually. One at each end. I’d move at half time so I can sit at the end you’re shooting at. You’ll have a clear lane to the hoop. I promise.”
The Vulcan man shook his head. “Two would be tough and big bucks.”
“I would expect to be given tickets for my services. Grimm’s don’t grow on trees.”
“Just exactly whose tickets am I supposed to give you?”
“How much good does Paul Allen do sitting down there? That would take care of one end.”
The Vulcan man jumped to his feet.
“Mr. Allen owns the team!” He slammed his hand down. “Get out of here! You’re not the Charmin man, or whatever you call it. I can say no to you! You want me to give you good money for nothing! For promises.”
“I’m not one of your players with promises I can’t deliver! I’m selling you the assurance that some of the best players in the NBA are going to have terrible games in Portland. That’s not enough?”
“You want me to pay for something I can’t see and no one would believe if I told them.”
“That’s what you’re used to, isn’t it? Listen. For the price of a couple of good tickets I’m offering to do more than Oden will do for you with all those millions. You won’t see me do anything but sit there, but unlike Oden, I’m getting the job done.”
The Vulcan man stared at him, then pointed at the door. “Out!”
“You’re making a mistake,” Detective Nick Burkhardt said as he stood.
“And, Nick, don’t expect me to watch that crazy show of yours!”
Nick Burkhardt turned and leveled his dark and steady gaze on the Vulcan man. “Beware the next person who knocks on your door. You will say yes.”
Burkhardt left, closing the door quietly behind him. The Vulcan man sat stiffly at his desk. His hands trembled. The longer he sat there the harder they shook.
Then, finally, a gentle and insistent rapping came at his door. His head fell forward into his hands.
“Please, God, not an agent,” he mumbled.
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