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    â€œSure,” Frank said. “I’m sure he could use the extra help.”
    Neal said goodbye to Sammy and packed up his snowboard and other gear. Then Ardis and another stocky agent led the way back to the stadium, while DuBelle hung behind.
    As they approached the tunnel leading under the stadium, Frank looked back over his shoulder.
    When he was satisfied that DuBelle was out of earshot, he said, “So, Neal, I figured you’d be dying to help Sammy with his routine. What’s up?”
    Neal stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know, man. I didn’t feel like it, that’s all.”
    â€œWhose idea was it, really, to pull that stunt?”
    â€œIt was Sammy’s idea,” Neal said. “I guess that weirded me out a little.”
    â€œHow come?” They passed into the tunnel and headed toward the snocross pit area.
    â€œBecause I wasn’t just going for a walk, like Sammy said. It was a whole big plan. I was supposed to sneak away and go find Amanda all the way on the other side of the stadium.”
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œHe said she was going to let me in on a big stunt they’d planned.”
    â€œWhat kind of stunt?”
    Neal switched his duffel from one hand to the other. “I asked, but he wouldn’t say.”
    The whole situation seemed kind of strange to Frank, but before he had time to ask Neal more questions, they ran into Joe and Fred Vale. A cameraman was right behind them.
    Vale held the microphone under Joe’s nose. “Do you have your snowmobile all tweaked out for the finals, Joe?”
    Joe stared hard into the camera. “I’ve got a few more things I can do to get extra horsepower,” he said. “But I’ll be ready by race time.”
    â€œHow about Justice Edwards? You nervous about going up against him again in the finals after those two big wipeouts?”
    Frank saw his brother’s jaw muscles twitch at the mention of Edwards’s name.
    â€œNo way,” Joe said. “I’m ready for anything he’s got. Tell him to bring it on.”
    â€œGreat!” Vale said, motioning for the cameraman to stop filming. “Great interview, Joe. Good luck in the finals.”
    Vale and the cameraman hurried off in the direction of Edwards’s pit.
    â€œHey, fellas,” Joe said. “Neal, man. How’d the jumping go?”
    When Neal didn’t say anything, Frank spoke for him. “Pretty good. He almost had a top-ten finish, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. Where’s Jamal?”
    â€œHe had to go help his dad get the planes ready for the sky surfing tomorrow,” Joe said, stepping back over to his snowmobile. “Vale wasted a lot of my time. I’ve got to rush to get ready.”
    The three of them made some final adjustments to the sled. Then it was time to help Joe push it out to the course.
    Frank and Neal sat in the same seats they’d had the night before. Frank tried to pick out the Secret Service agents around them, but this time they weren’t so obvious.
    Down on the track, Joe idled his sled up to the starting line. This was what he lived for. The stands were full of fans. It was late afternoon and getting dark, and the stadium lights would click on at any minute. He loved racing under the lights; it made him feel as if he was going extra fast.
    He looked to his right, down the line of racers. Edwards was three places away from him, but Joe expected him to come flying across his path at the start. That maniac would do anything to get a hole shot.
    Joe cranked the throttle. His sled sounded good. The ski was fixed. The race was his.
    The green flag fell, and Joe bolted for the first turn.
    Everything became a blur. He could feel someone coming up on his right, but he didn’t dare look over. One second of lapsed concentration could send him skidding out of control.
    He felt something knock against him as he leaned into