“Frigid. I can’t believe old Charlie decided to fly me down here. You must have convinced him it was time to send in the marines.”

“We’ve been talking every day.”

“I see. Well, I can’t say that I was depressed to hear that I was about to depart the frozen tundra and arrive in lotus land.”

“Don’t get too happy. You won’t have time for the beach. You’ll be working.”

“What about weekends?”

“Weekends, too.”

“You can’t spare Sunday afternoons for two hours? I can’t go back without a tan, nobody will believe I was ever here.” Tracy rolled over on the bed and spied the flowers on the table. “What’s this?”

Marisa made a dive for the basket but Tracy got there first. “Give me another chance,” she murmured. “Jack. Who’s Jack?”

“Nobody, forget it,” Marisa said, snatching the card away.

“Jack, Jack, Jack,” Tracy muttered. Her expression brightened. “That’s the NFN leader, Jackson something, right? I just saw him on TV last week.”

“Coincidence,” Marisa said, not too convincingly.

“It is not,” Tracy said, grinning. “You’ve been here three weeks and you’ve got the head of the opposition team sending you flowers. Why is it these things never happen to me?”

“You’re making too much of it. I hardly know the man. He thinks I misunderstood something he said and this was his way of...”

“Courting you?” Tracy supplied.

“Don’t be ridiculous. He was trying to apologize, I guess.”

“I suppose you haven’t noticed that he’s gorgeous.”

“Tracy, give me a break. I’ve been far too busy to ogle anybody at the opposition table.”

“Oh, I see. You’ve been struck blind.”

Marisa threw Tracy a look which would have silenced anyone else, but Tracy was more persistent than the average busybody. “So what did you misunderstand?” she inquired.

“He asked me to have a drink with him...”

“Aha!” Tracy said triumphantly, sitting up alertly.

“To warn me that my high profile defense of the federal government’s position might be dangerous for me.”

“Oh. That was nice of him.”

Marisa stared at her.

“What?” Tracy said, turning her hands palms up innocently.

“That was just a little more sophisticated form of intimidation, Tracy. Letting me know, under the guise of concern, that there was definitely something to be worried about.”

“Marisa, you’re paranoid.”

“Am I? Do you know how many times during the Lafferty trial one of those goons took me aside for a little friendly chat, warning me, very nicely and politely, that if I kept on with the case I could wind up in a pair of cement shoes?”

“They actually said that?” Tracy muttered, aghast.

“Of course not. They were more subtle about it, though none quite approached the smoothness of our man Bluewolf. He practically oozed solicitude.”

“Maybe he was sincere, Marisa.”

Marisa rolled her eyes.

Tracy shook her head. “You’ve been spending too much time around hoods, prosecuting these federal cases.”

“Maybe so. But I’m a little too old to fall for Mr. Bluewolf’s practiced charm.”

“So he is charming, you admit it.”

“If you like the type.”

“What type?”

Marisa shrugged.

“The handsome, sophisticated, politically correct type?” Tracy suggested, grinning.

“Shut up, Tracy,” Marisa said wearily. “It’s time for us to get to work.”

“What?” Tracy said, outraged. “I don’t even eat dinner first?”

“We’ll order you a burger from room service.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Marisa handed her a manila folder with a computer printout stapled to its cover.

“What’s this?” Tracy said, fingering the sheet.

“A list of all the eminent domain cases decided in the state of Florida in the last fifty years.”

“Gee, how thoughtful.”

“I knew you wouldn’t want to waste a minute.”

Marisa handed Tracy the phone and pointed to the house extension for room service.

* * *

The next morning in court Marisa moved to gain access to the Seminole tribal records detailing the number and location of the graves in the burial site to determine the cost of moving them. She was stunned when Judge Lasky granted the motion, and so was the press corps, which departed en masse for the phones. By the time the morning session ended they were lined up in the corridor, waiting for her comments on a development that was sure to incense the Indian community and provide some juicy quotes from both sides. She stared through the courtroom doors in dismay at the milling crowd, wishing that she hadn’t sent Tracy to the library that morning. She would have appreciated the company.

“I wouldn’t go that way if I were you,” Jack’s voice said behind her.

“It’s probably not a good idea for you, either,” Marisa replied dryly, turning to look at him. He was wearing a beige lightweight wool suit with a tobacco brown shirt that turned his amber eyes to gold.

“I know a shortcut through the lower level,” he said.

Marisa eyed him warily.

“I’m only trying to help,” he said innocently.

“Is that so?”

“Through that door,” he said, pointing. “You’ll avoid the pack of vultures and exit in the parking lot.”

Marisa sighed and nodded.

They went to the back of the courtroom and then down a flight of fire stairs, Jack leading the way. They came out into what was obviously a basement, with pipes running overhead and cement floors. As Jack turned toward another door marked “Service,” two people Marisa recognized as reporters rounded a bend and headed toward them.

“Oh, oh,” Jack said.

“I guess you weren’t the one only who thought of this brilliant maneuver,” Marisa observed.

“They haven’t seen us. This way,” he said, grabbing her hand.

Marisa didn’t have time to protest as he dragged her back the way they had come and into a side corridor, yanking open the first door he saw. They dashed through it and Marisa stepped into a bucket, which clanged loudly.

“This is a broom closet,” she said, removing her foot.

“I see that.” He pulled the door closed and the motion disturbed a mop stored behind it, which tipped forward and struck him on the head. Marisa covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh.

“So what do you think of my dashing rescue?” he said, removing a mop string from his eye.

“Very impressive,” she said, giving way to giggles.

“Hey, did you avoid the reporters, or what?” He replaced the mop in the corner and turned to face her. They stared at each other in the confined space as their smiles faded and the silence lengthened.

“They’re probably gone by now,” Marisa finally said.

“What?” he said, seemingly dazed.

“I think it’s safe to go,” she observed.

“Oh. Right.” He nodded and reached for the doorknob, stepping back to let Marisa precede him through the door. Once they were back in the hall they looked around cautiously, but the coast was clear.

“I guess we cut those varmints off at the pass,” he said dramatically, and she smiled again.

“That’s a nice change,” he said. “I’m so used to having you glowering at me that I was beginning to wonder if you knew how to smile.”

Marisa didn’t know what to say.

“Did you get the flowers I sent?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“I meant what I said on the card.” He put his hand on her arm. “My warning was well intentioned. Some of these activist kids can get carried away. They get caught up in situations like this one and lose sight of the big picture.”

“What is the big picture?” she asked quietly.

“Well, let’s just say that it’s not going to do our cause any good to persecute an attorney who’s merely representing the opposition in a legal case. Personalities shouldn’t enter into it.”

“But not everyone in your NFN group sees it quite that way,” she said softly.

He shrugged. “They’re frustrated and angry because you’re doing a good job. Getting the tribal records unsealed was a coup for your side and it’s going to cause trouble. Up until now there have been rumblings, but the case has been going against you. They don’t want to see it turn the other way, however slightly.”