“I don’t know. You can’t just pull something out of the blue at the last minute and expect it to work.” She ran a hand through her hair. “You have to have plans and contacts. And there’s not much time.”

“But you might be able to do it?”

“How the hell do I know? But I won’t be able to do anything if I don’t try. I have to—” She stopped. “But maybe…” She turned and strode out of the cave. “I hope your plans don’t call for Cal Harris,” she called back to him. “I might be needing him…”

*  *  *

4:40 P.M.
20 Minutes to Race Time

“A little stiff?” Masenak asked as he watched Sasha pull herself into the saddle. “You’re doing much better than when I dropped into the stable to check on you this morning. I was afraid that Reardon might have ruined my chances of winning by being so overenthusiastic.”

“I’m fine.” Sasha looked down at him. “A little stiff, as you said. I just needed to rest a little more. But I knew you wouldn’t allow me not to ride Chaos in this race. You and Reardon made it clear that I wouldn’t be the only one to suffer if I pampered myself.” She gazed out at the grandstand several yards past the starting gates in the distance. It was now filled with people running back and forth to talk to guests in other boxes, loud music, and waiters popping champagne corks and handing out goblets. “And think how sad I’d be to miss your party. Your friends have such class. Like to like.”

“Shut up. I’m not going to listen to that sarcastic tongue. I would have thought Reardon had taught you something.” He was scowling at those same starting gates. “Chaos isn’t going to balk at them, is he? You should have practiced bringing him into the gates. Why didn’t you think of that?”

“Because I knew he’s never nervous about anything you’d think he’d be nervous about. He’d just believe he could knock the gates down if they got in his way.” She looked beyond the gates to the now roaring crowd in the grandstand. “Those idiots shouting will annoy him more than the gates. If you want to worry about something, you should go make sure no one throws any of those wine bottles out on the track.”

He gestured to several uniformed guards standing beside the steps leading up to the grandstand. “I have men to make certain nothing like that will happen.”

“If they’re not afraid to do it. You’ve told them to be extra polite to your guests.” She shrugged. “But if you have that much confidence in them, why should I care?”