Clarity swept through

 Rock's survival depended on a chance to salt a russet potato and bake it before daybreak. This matter at first seemed certain, but then clarity swept through his kitchen. There were no potatoes in the refrigerator. There had not been any in years. All Rock knew now was a cat named Joe wanted out.

This is new

 The limousine offered a straightforward view of Oaklawn Park's infield, and Rock sat in the backseat with the Oaklawn owner. A dozen or so others, primarily college-aged, were crowded in with them, and they all watched as a wedding party of four walked toward a stage set up near the infield's largest concession stand. "This is new, isn't it?" Rock said. "It is," the owner said. "We thought it might appeal to our sentimental sort of fans." The party reached and stepped onto the stage. In the very instant of their arrival, it swung up with a violent mechanical jerk and tossed all four at high speed out of the facility and into the racetrack's enormous parking lot, a quarter of a mile away. It appeared as an unsurvivable event, and Rock wondered if it might ruin Oaklawn.

What can you do?

 Rock sat in a New Orleans airport diner, joined by a sportscaster from Chicago he met at a tournament completed earlier in the day. He noticed a look of alarm in his acquaintance's eyes and turned to see three middle-aged men approach. Each appeared angered. The sportscaster stood, said, "Shit, I'm not dealing with these idiots again," and hurried away. Rock discovered the oldest of the men knew he wrote for a newspaper when he was asked to investigate their problem. "There ain't a single flight going to O'Hare before nine a.m., and we gotta get there by ten at the latest. What can you do about it?"