Right in front of Popovich, Lin Qi reached for the black receiver on the desk and deftly dialed the number in Chicago.
After a few monotonous busy tones, the slightly shrill, guarded voice of Bulls general manager Jerry Krause came through the receiver.
"Lin Qi?"
"Jerry, I've got a name you absolutely won't want to miss." Lin Qi got straight to the point.
"Who?"
"Dennis Rodman."
The other end instantly fell silent. Two seconds later, Krause gave a cold laugh over the phone.
"Lin, don't tell me you think I'm such a pushover that you want me to take that bomb off San Antonio's hands?"
Hearing the sarcasm over the speaker, Popovich's expression darkened slightly across the desk. The words were grating, but they were nothing less than reality. By now, front offices throughout the league knew that Rodman was close to being classified as a negative asset in San Antonio. Missing practices, openly defying the head coach-his off-court scandals far outnumbered his defensive contributions on the court. Any team considering taking him on first had to assess whether he would tear its locker room apart.
Krause clearly knew San Antonio's internal strife inside out.
"Dennis is certainly an elite defender," Krause said unhurriedly, holding the upper hand. "But the question now isn't whether he's useful. It's who can keep him under control. Gregg dreams of shipping him out. If you in Boston want to be the Spurs' garbage collectors, that's your business. Don't expect me to pay premium assets for a problem the entire league is laughing at."
Krause's attempt to drive down the price did not stir Lin Qi's emotions at all. Instead, he lowered his head and chuckled.
"Jerry, you can use that kind of talk on other teams' general managers. Bringing it to me shows a certain lack of sincerity."
Krause said nothing on the other end, remaining silent.
"Rodman is trouble in San Antonio. I'll admit that." Lin Qi tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, his tone unhurried. "The Spurs' old-fashioned, rigid approach to discipline can't keep him in line, and Popovich can't use him properly, so he's a negative asset in Texas. But what if he went to Chicago? Would he still be a negative asset?"
Another long silence settled over the other end.
Lin Qi knew his words had struck Krause's sore spot with extraordinary precision.
Michael Jordan had returned, Scottie Pippen was in his prime, and the framework of Phil Jackson's Triangle Offense remained intact. The Bulls had everything in place. Their one fatal tactical hole was the void at power forward left by Horace Grant's departure for Orlando. They needed rebounds, elite frontcourt defense, and a villain who could battle the Eastern Conference's muscular big men in the playoffs and grind their bones to pieces.
And across the entire league, Dennis Rodman was the most extreme-and most perfect-solution at that position.
"The entire league knows you need a power forward," Lin Qi continued to press. "You need someone to rebound, someone to hold his ground defensively, a workhorse who won't need any touches but can handle all the defensive dirty work. Michael and Scottie don't need twenty points a game from him, and Phil doesn't need him to obey like a college kid. The Bulls only need him to grab every defensive rebound, then drive the opposing team's key big man completely insane."
"And nobody in the league does those things better than Dennis."
Krause remained silent for a long time before finally speaking hoarsely. "...Then what do you want in return?"
"What win-now help can you offer?" Lin Qi asked in return.
"Will Perdue." Krause offered a name.
Perdue was a traditional seven-foot white center with extensive championship experience, and his salary was just right to match the trade. He certainly had a place in the Bulls' rotation, but he was by no means an irreplaceable, untouchable asset.
Lin Qi drew a circle on the paper with his pen. "And the Bulls' twentieth overall pick in this year's first round."
Krause's voice instantly turned cold. "Lin, that's too much."
"Is it?"
"Of course it is." Krause's voice sounded somewhat shrill through the receiver. "The Spurs are desperate to shed a burden. Chicago isn't desperate to buy. If the entire league considers him a negative asset, you're asking me to give up a seven-foot center and throw in a first-round pick on the edge of the lottery? Lin, I'm helping the Celtics and the Spurs resolve a locker-room crisis. I'm not here to be a sucker."
Lin Qi loosened his collar and leaned back in his chair, but his voice grew even steadier.
"Jerry, you're right. For a rebuilding team, or one with a gentler style of play, Rodman really is a hazard that could explode at any moment. But for a team whose only goal is to build a dynasty, he isn't."
For a moment, only Krause's somewhat heavy breathing came through the receiver.
"The Chicago Bulls aren't stockpiling talented youngsters, waiting for the future, or going through a rebuild. Michael Jordan is already thirty-two, and Pippen has entered the latter half of his prime. Every season you have now is a fleeting championship window."
Lin Qi slowed his speech, but the pressure seeped through little by little.
"In a genuine championship window, the steepest price is never a late first-round pick. The steepest price is having to face a failed season after your hesitation costs you the final piece that would have made your team utterly unstoppable."
Krause gripped the receiver tightly, unable to refute him.
Lin Qi gave him no chance to breathe or gather his words, continuing immediately.
"What can the twentieth pick bring Chicago? A backup big man who needs three years of development? Or a youngster who can't even get on the floor against playoff physicality? Jerry, you know better than I do that Michael Jordan's team has no patience to wait for a twentieth pick to grow up slowly. But Rodman is different. He can report to the United Center tomorrow and grab fifteen rebounds for you the day after. In the playoffs, he can spare your perimeter stars all the most thankless defensive wear and tear."
Krause gritted his teeth and said coldly, "Lin, you make it sound like I can't do without him."
"You're certainly free to refuse," Lin Qi answered with absolute crispness. "At worst, I'll keep this bomb for Boston to use."
On the other end, Krause's breathing abruptly caught.
"Don't forget, this is Boston. We have The Cardinal in our front office, and Robert Parish in our locker room. When it comes to keeping troublemakers in line and adjusting players' mindsets, few teams in this league have the pedigree and confidence of an established powerhouse like the Celtics. Just because Rodman would fall out with management in San Antonio doesn't mean he'd dare cause trouble at the Garden."
This was, naturally, a bargaining chip Lin Qi had put forward. He understood Rodman's perversity better than anyone. There was no way he would keep that unstable bomb around to destroy the chemistry the Celtics had just established.
"So, Jerry." Lin Qi lightly tapped the draft trade agreement on the desk. "Today, you aren't cleaning house for the Spurs. You're buying the final cornerstone of the Chicago Bulls' future dynasty from me."
A deathly silence fell over the other end.
A full half minute passed before Krause let out a long breath, his voice hoarse with concession. "Matching salaries with Perdue won't be a problem."
Lin Qi remained silent, waiting for the final offer.
"The twentieth pick... I can include that in the trade too. But the Bulls won't add any future second-round assets."
"Add one future second-round pick." Lin Qi's voice did not waver. "That's Boston's rightful fee for stitching this three-team trade together."
Another long, difficult round of bargaining followed over the phone.
"Deal. Perdue, the twentieth pick in the 1995 first round, and a future second-round pick, top-forty-five protected."
A smile finally lifted the corners of Lin Qi's mouth. "Jerry, that's the kind of decisiveness an elite contender should show in a trade. A pleasure doing business."
The first interlocking move of the window
As the receiver was set firmly back in its cradle, the complicated three-team trade that gave each side what it needed was officially finalized in Lin Qi's office.
The San Antonio Spurs received: Sean Elliott (welcoming back their core wing), Marty Conlon, Aaron Williams, and Haskin for salary matching.
The Chicago Bulls received: Dennis Rodman, securing the final championship piece they had dreamed of.
The Boston Celtics received: Willie Anderson (a tough defensive workhorse on the wing), Will Perdue (a seven-foot bruiser at center with championship experience), the Spurs' 1995 first-round pick (twenty-first overall), the Bulls' 1995 first-round pick (twentieth overall), and a future Bulls second-round pick.
And... the Spurs' "top-three-protected" 1997 first-round pick, which Popovich currently considered worthless paper, but Lin Qi regarded as a peerless treasure.
After signing the draft agreement and seeing off Popovich, whose expression was complicated, quiet returned to the office.
The scouting director hurried over. Looking at the densely packed list of asset movements on the desk, he still seemed somewhat dazed. "Lin, we sent Sean away. We got back Willie Anderson, a wing with an exceptionally solid defensive foundation, added a seven-foot bruiser in Perdue, and even scooped up a pile of draft picks along the way. But was this deal... really worth it? Sean was our most dependable defensive depth on the wing this season."
"Although Anderson's lateral quickness has declined since his major injury, his bulk in contact and defensive toughness make him better suited than Sean to slugging it out with those New York thugs in the playoffs. He can fill the defensive void Sean leaves perfectly."
Lin Qi walked to the window and gazed at Boston's gradually warming summer sky outside, no longer able to suppress the smile in his eyes.
"As for whether it was worth it..." Lin Qi's gaze swept over the Spurs' 1997 pick on the list.
Today, he had squeezed every last bit of value out of that long-term investment in Sean Elliott a year earlier, recovering it all, principal and interest. More frightening still, this was merely the first strategic fulcrum he had carefully shifted during his "four-day window."
The entire league thought Boston was merely flipping assets to pocket the difference in draft-pick value. Yet no one could see that Lin Qi was using these scattered picks to weave an enormous net targeting the entire 1995 draft.
The true chain of maneuvers had only just begun.
And that tall, skinny Chicago high school boy, who was currently leaving the Minnesota Timberwolves' front office wavering, was already waiting quietly for him at the far end of the net Lin Qi had cast.