"But I came in eighteenth, man… " Brett obsessed. "That's the only thing I'm thinking about as I get ready to go out there tonight, and when you start choking, that's when you start beatin' and bangin' off the corners or get nudged into a spin 'cause you aren't really focused and are misjudging which way someone's going. "

"You've always been known for your instinct and judgment, " Andy reminded him. "Remember the Busch Series in ninety-nine?"

"We've got to go, " Hammer said as her tension mounted to a screaming pitch. "If we don't go now, it's going to be too late!"

"How could I forget?" Brett replied with a shake of his head. "That was one of my best. "

"Exactly, " Andy encouraged him. "And why? You had to work for every piece of the track you got, and there were wrecks and door-banging tussles going on everywhere. And what did you do? Right after an accident in Turn Four took out number forty and caused a seven-lap caution, and Hamilton spun off Turn Two and took out Burton and Fuller, you were smart enough to get off the gas and get on the brakes, and then you shot out ahead on the back straightaway and just stayed in it. "

"Yeah, " Brett said, looking up and greatly fortified, "I sure as hell did. "

"And that happened right here, " Andy concluded, measuring his words by tapping the table with his finger. "That was right here at the Richmond racetrack. "

"I know, I know. I guess it's my nature to dwell on poor performances, " Brett said with a grin. "And guess what? I'm just not going to do that tonight, and if you want to use my bird, you go right ahead as long as someone knows how to fly the damn thing. "

"You bet I do, " Andy said. "And when you're out there tonight, remember what I said. Make your Big Move. You'll know when. "

"What in the world was that all about?" Hammer asked Andy as they flew toward downtown Richmond in Brett's glorious 430, which was painted black and emblazoned with his car number and endorsements in brilliant yellow, purple, and red. "I thought you didn't go to races. "

"I don't, but I watch them on TV occasionally and study strategies, whether it's of race-car drivers or tennis players or Navy SEAL snipers, " Andy replied through his mike as he pushed ahead at a hundred and fifty knots and overflew I-95, which was a solid line of barely creeping cars for as far as he could see. "Glad we're up here and not down there, " he added.

Barbie Fogg had so far avoided the backed-up traffic caused by the masses headed to the racetrack. It wasn't that Barbie was wise in the ways of shortcuts and alleyways, but after she had picked up Hooter at the toll-booth, the unexpected had occurred. Barbie's cell phone had rung, and she had been surprised and relieved to hear Reverend Justice's voice on the line.

"Where on earth have you been?" Barbie said as Hooter flashed her nails in the passenger's seat, admiring her little acrylic flags.

"Been busy with the prison ministry, " the reverend replied. "And my car's broke down, so I need you to come over and pick me up quick as you can. I'm gonna have a few brethren with me, so you need to have room for, let me see, six of us, including me. "

"Oh my, that's a tight squeeze, " Barbie said while Hooter ripped open the velcro straps on her astronaut boots and readjusted them, admiring her stylish outfit and imagining herself in the governor's special box at the racetrack.

Hooter wondered if that big, bad Trooper Macovich would show up and figured he would. He sure did brag a lot about how dangerous and important his job was. Everything was the guv this and the guv that when Hooter and Macovich had been drinking beer the other night, and Hooter felt a twinge of regret. It was true that Macovich was fresh and had one thing on his mind, even when he was going on and on about the governor and what it was like to work in that big mansion in Capitol Square while beating everybody in pool, but Hooter was lonely.

"I tell you, girlfriend, maybe I been too rough on him, " Hooter said with a sigh as Barbie pulled into a boarded-up gas station and turned around. "I kinda hope he'll be there tonight. You think he'll admirate my style?"

"I think you look fabulous, " Barbie assured her as she worried about getting to the race on time, if at all.

The reverend's phone call was out of the blue and very peculiar, Barbie thought as she headed toward a rundown part of the city, just northwest of downtown, where the reverend had instructed her to wait across the street from the city jail, in the back parking lot of the juvenile courts building. He and his brethren would be hiding in a small wooded area and would jump in the minivan the minute she showed up, and then she was to speed away and not ask any questions.

"Maybe you should ring up that trooper and tell him we might be a little late, " Barbie suggested with growing anxiety, "and ask him to make sure they don't give away our seats in the governor's box. "

"What'chu mean, late?" Hooter exclaimed, because she had not paid much attention to whatever Barbie had been saying on the cell phone a few minutes ago. "Girlfriend, we can't be late! Uh uh, we're late, you gonna totally miss seeing all them race drivers come outta their trailers and get into their cars! You won't get your picture took with none of 'em! This is the opportunity of a life, and we can't be late!"

As Barbie drove faster, Hooter noticed a big, colorful helicopter hovering in the area of the Medical College.

"Why, look at that helichopper!" Hooter leaned forward to get a better look. "Now, that would hang the moon, wouldn't it, girlfriend? To ride on a helichopper? Must be some poor person they's rushing to the emergency room, but I ain't never seen a med-chopper that look like that. "

"Oh my Lord, " Barbie exclaimed and almost ran off the road. "That's Donny Brett's colors! And look, his number eleven's painted on the door. Oh dear Lord, he must've been in a wreck already!"

"But the race ain't even started yet, " Hooter pointed out. "Maybe he had a heart attack or something. You know he must be feeling a lot of stress after comin' in eighteenth last spring when he was here. "

Thirty-one

Andy and Hammer were feeling far more stress than Donny Brett was. Despite Andy's apparent confidence when he promised Hammer he knew exactly how to handle Smoke and the road dogs, the truth was, he had no idea what to expect, and the headset kept rearranging his ponytail wig, and pretty soon it would be too dark to wear the Ray-Bans. He held the helicopter in a rock-hard hover and turned the nose into the wind as he spotted Smoke, a fragile-looking woman with short platinum hair, and two road dogs climbing out of a black SUV parked in the lot on the other side of the fenced-in helipad. The thugs were dressed in NASCAR colors, and the smallest one was holding a small bundle wrapped in what looked like a folded black flag.

"That must be Possum, " Andy said to Hammer over the mike. "And it looks like he might have Popeye. "

Hammer did her best not to react. She knew it would be unwise to show that she had any interest in whatever was in the folded flag, because she was supposed to be

Donny Brett's brother's girlfriend and had no reason to know who Popeye was or care.

"Stay tight, " Andy said as he set down the helicopter on the concrete surface and cut both engines' throttles to flight idle. "I'll go talk to them. If something happens, just cut the throttles all the way off and start shooting through your window. It slides open. "

The road dogs and the woman were gathered at the fence, staring in awe at the glorious helicopter and looking a bit perplexed as they watched the redneck with a ponytail headed their way.

"Who the fuck are you?" Smoke asked as the little bundle moved in Possum's arms.