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case,” said Sandro. “Judge Ellis relieved me from that case ten weeks ago—just so she could get the trial started.”
    â€œYou can’t prove anything by me, Counselor. I’m just following orders.” Sandro stopped next to a navy blue Ferrari Testa Rossa and opened the door. The Marshal stepped back to ogle the car. “This yours, Counselor?”
    Sandro nodded, releasing the cable for the luggage compartment.
    â€œMmm, mmmph. This sum-bitch—sorry, ma’am—”
    Tatiana smiled and shrugged.
    â€œâ€”looks like she’s doing 90 standing still, Counselor. What’ll she do?”
    â€œIf there was any place to do it, 175, 180.”
    â€œDamn.” The Marshal wagged his head rapturously.
    Sandro threw his gloves into his helmet into the storage compartment. “Turn around a second,” he said to Tatiana. She raised her eyebrows, then dutifully faced the opposite direction. Standing between the open door and the interior of the car, Sandro began to remove his fire proof racing gear. “Why did she send for me?” Sandro asked the Marshal as he put on beige slacks and tasseled loafers.
    â€œNot gospel, but I think the lawyer for your man there, what’s his name, had an accident,” said the Marshal. “Can I take a look at the engine?”
    â€œSure,” said Sandro. “Pull the engine cable for the Marshal,” he said to Tatiana. She reached into the car and released a cable. “It’s back here,” Sandro said, lifting the rear lid to reveal the flat twelve cylinders and four mean exhausts.
    â€œWhoa.…”
    â€œI’m going to give the Judge a call,” said Sandro. “I’m not supposed to be on that case.”
    â€œIt’s okay with me Counselor, either way,” said the Marshal, leaning over, his hands behind his back, to peer into the engine compartment from a respectful distance. “Like I said, I’m just following orders. I got the phone number right here if you want. I’m supposed to call when I find you.” He handed Sandro a small slip of paper.
    â€œCan you tell them you couldn’t find me?”
    The Marshal shrugged. “I wish I could, Counselor.”
    â€œI’ll give you a ride in the Ferrari.”
    â€œDon’t make me charge you with sorely tempting a government official,” the Marshal chuckled.
    â€œLet’s give them a call.” Sandro said, taking his car phone from its cradle on the console. Cars on the track were loudly zooming past the pits. “Won’t be able to hear. There’s a phone booth back here,” said Sandro, walking toward the back wall of the timing tower. He punched his phone code into the keypad, then the numbers from the slip of paper the Marshal had given him.
    â€œSo what if Hardie’s lawyer had an accident?” Sandro murmured half aloud as he faced the phone. The phone on the other end rang, then rang again. “She put me out of the case so it could go forward! Now she wants me back in it?” Sandro listened to a few more rings, then hung up.
    â€œHow’d you do?” said the Marshal.
    â€œAnswering machine. Says to call after five. Makes no sense. After five they go home.”
    â€œNot a very good system,” said Tatiana.
    â€œPeople don’t have all those answering machines up here. We answer our own phone if we’re about.”
    â€œThere’s no way I’m flying down to New York and leaving my car up here.”
    â€œI can drive the car to New York if you want,” said Tatiana, a smile on her lips.
    â€œLike I said, there’s no way I’m leaving my car here and flying down to New York.”
    â€œYou don’t trust me to drive your car?”
    â€œI trust you with my life,” said Sandro.
    â€œWhat about the car?”
    Sandro smiled wider, knowing that Tatiana was leading him through the Jack Benny routine he had told her