Lee could see the two men were still in the parking lot, looking around but Bela was nowhere in sight. One of them caught sight of Lee watching and nudged his companion, jerking his head toward Lee.

"Can I help you guys?" called Lee. "Because this is a closed camp and you're not supposed to be back here."

The two men exchanged a look, before sauntering over to where he was standing, arms crossed. His nose wrinkled slightly as the cloud of cheap men's cologne hit him again – it was strong enough to fell a moose but not enough to cover the acrid body odor of the man wearing it.

No wonder this stuff gives Amanda the hiccups – how does Shorty here even breathe wearing it?

"Yeah, you might be able to help us," the first one said, answering Lee's pointed question. "You're the new strong safety, right? Newcombe?"

"Yeah, that's right," replied Lee. "What's it to you?"

Another look between the men.

"Well, we have someone who might like to meet you. A friend of Pravik's."

"Pravik has friends?" Lee lifted a brow. "I thought he only just got stateside? How has he had time to make friends?"

"Well, Mr. Price has a way of making friends with people quickly," smirked the second guy. "And it's good to be his friend, if you know what I mean."

"No, I'm afraid I don't," said Lee in a pleasant tone. "Why don't you explain it to me?"

"Tell you what, Big Guy – we'll see if Mr. Price has any openings for new friends and get back to youse on that."

"You do that," Lee replied.

The first man nudged his companion and Lee turned his head to see that they were being watched from a nearby window by the team owner, John Crandall, who did not look at all pleased.

"Time to go," he muttered. "We'll talk to you later, Newcombe. And if you see Pravik? Tell him we came by."

Lee watched them walk away; they were doing their best to look casual but Lee noticed the way they kept giving that window quick glances as if they were afraid of being recognized.

"So who the hell is Price?" he murmured under his breath. "And what the hell has Bela got himself into?"

A rap at the window got his attention; he looked up to see the Crandall crooking a finger at him.

A few moments later, Lee was in the doorway of the owner's office, an unusual occurrence for a simple player on a team, but Crandall waved him in and gestured for him to sit in the chair opposite.

"What did those guys want with you?" he asked, getting right to the point.

"Not sure they wanted anything with me," Lee lied easily. "They said they were lost, but I'm not sure how they managed to find their way in and not out again."

"I've noticed them here before," growled Crandall. "I don't like the looks of them – and I don't like the looks of you being so friendly with them."

"Well, I'd never met them until a few minutes ago," said Lee. "Noticed them skulking outside and came out to warn them off." He decided it would do no one any good to mention that they'd been looking for Pravik.

Crandall eyed him for a few seconds, clearly feeling that Lee was holding out on him. "You're the new guy, right? Newcombe?"

"Yes Sir – strong safety," replied Lee.

"Bateman brought you in, didn't he?"

Bateman was the assistant coach with a brother in State Department – he'd been the person who'd approached them on Pravik's behalf.

"Yes Sir, that's right."

"From Canada?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes, Sir. I played in the CFL, but I'm American."

Crandall leaned forward, fingers steepled in front of him as he leaned on the desk. "Now you see, I think that's odd, because the CFL doesn't have strong safeties, do they?"

Lee paused and regrouped. "No, Sir, they don't," he admitted. "They call them defensive halfbacks. But it pretty much comes down to the same thing." He gave Crandall a wide grin that he hoped would make him look guileless. It didn't work.

"You're a bit of a pretty boy, aren't you?" growled Crandall. "Bet the ladies like you."

"Some of them, yep."

"Not sure I should be trusting my defense with a guy who looks like he'd try to do anything to keep looking pretty." Crandall leaned ever further forward. "You know, Coach Leopold and I agree on one thing – you gotta stick 'em with the face."

"Absolutely right, Sir," said Lee.

"And from what I've seen in practice, you aren't doing much of that."

"Well, I'm just getting to know the other players, Sir – you know, hang back and study their weaknesses, that kind of thing."

Crandall eyed him with a frown. "Shouldn't you be doing that to other teams? Not your own?"

"Well, I will, Sir, but for now, I want to know where there might be gaps in our team's lines so that I can step in to make up for it during a play."

"Huh." Crandall leaned back in his chair and lit a cigar. "A pretty boy with a bum knee and you think too much. Not sure this is going to work out, Newcombe."

"Well, maybe you'll change your mind when you see what I can do in a game, Sir" said Lee putting on his best good-ole-boy voice.

"We'll see," said Crandall flatly. "Now get out of my office and back on the field."

"Yes Sir!" Lee shot to his feet and escaped while he could.