Modified.

That was the key.

I examined the magnetometer readings, but both caves were enclosed within substrates of nearly identical density and mineral composition. One would be no easier to modify than the other. I overlaid the sonographic images and studied their shapes, which were little more than vague outlines. The only real difference was that one appeared to be more circular than the other. I zoomed in on the center. The resolution was grainy and pixelated and yet it still almost…almost looked like there were other densities in there. Nothing as solid as rock, but something nonetheless. Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see, or maybe, just maybe, I had found exactly what I was looking for.

There was only one way to find out for sure.

I donned my ball cap and windbreaker, killed off the bottle of water in the console cup holder and pocketed two more, and drew my Beretta and Maglite. I used the charger cord from my phone to tie the light to the side of the barrel in order to keep one hand free and the sightline unobstructed at the same time. I jacked the slide to make sure it still slid freely, grabbed two spare clips from the glove compartment, and tucked my cell phone into my pocket. I shut off the engine and sat there a moment longer, running through a mental checklist to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything that might help save my skin. I focused on slowing my heartbeat, on breathing slowly in and out.

A gust of wind struck the car with enough force to rock it on its suspension. It sounded like the sand pitted the glass.

I pulled the handle and the wind ripped the door from my grasp and hammered it against its hinge. I had to throw my full weight into it to force it closed. Sand and debris blew sideways through the headlights, limiting their range and effectiveness, but I was still grateful for even that little illumination. The sand pelting my jacket sounded like rain on an umbrella, only I can’t recall rain ever smacking the side of my face and ear so hard I could feel it peeling off the top layer of skin.

I lowered my head in an effort to use the brim of the cap to shield my eyes and struck off away from the car. I found the trail without much effort and figured I’d try to follow it as long as possible. Eventually I was going to have to cross the dark ridge high above me. I assumed this path led either to a good vantage point from which to take pictures of the famous peak or to the peak itself. Whatever the case, I was counting on it to get me high enough that I could pick my way eastward between peaks.

I had to remind myself that my brother—that the Coyote—had been one step ahead of me the entire time. It was safest to assume that he had anticipated my choice of routes. Hell, for all I knew he could be watching me through the storm or otherwise monitoring my progress by other electronic means. Regardless, I was confident he knew I was coming and would be ready and waiting for me.

Coyote is the master of deception.

I needed to remember that more than anything else. After all, the Coyote fancied himself a mischievous creator god.

Good thing bringing down men who thought themselves gods was my specialty.

THIRTY-SIX

Ever been struck by a chunk of cactus hurled by a sixty mile-an-hour wind? It feels pretty much like you’d imagine. Worse still is the pain of prying it back out. Those needles may look straight to the naked eye, but I’m convinced they’re covered with little barbed hooks that latch into your flesh and make them next to impossible to excise. It could have been worse though. The wind could have whipped up a rattler and slung it at me instead.

Don’t let anyone tell you I don’t know how to keep things in perspective.

Navigating the path was harder than I thought it would be. The wind did its best to shove me into the bushes and cacti and down hills slick with talus and over the edge of various precipices. Not to mention the fact that the sand it kept perpetually airborne made it nearly impossible to see. It also helped mask whatever subtle sounds lurked beneath it, and those were definitely the ones that were in my best interests to hear. It screamed through the valleys with an almost human voice, and, from time to time, made a high-pitched sound that reminded me of a horse whinnying. I slid the sleeve of my jacket over my entire hand and the majority of the pistol to keep any grit from getting inside and screwing with the firing mechanism. And I couldn’t have that. I had a pretty good hunch I was going to need to use it.

I watched the ground for sign, knowing full well the wind would have already erased it, but I couldn’t afford to take anything for granted. A footprint could potentially remain intact in the lee of a bush or a large rock. A bullet dropped while hastily attempting to load a gun would pretty much stay right where it landed. And heaven forbid I step down into a snake hole. There was no way I could scrutinize everything around me with one measly little light, especially since I was forced to watch my own tail at the same time.

The ground grew steeper and more treacherous. I didn’t know how far I had come or how high I had ascended. My headlights had faded into the storm behind me long ago, and only occasionally was I able to glimpse Baboquivari Peak. I had to be nearing the top. At least I thought so anyway. Soon enough I was going to have to decide whether I was going to follow the trail, which was slowly starting to steer me to the right, or strike off away from it and utilize one of the valleys to cross over and onto the eastern slope. I had pretty much decided I was going to continue on the path for a little while longer when I glanced up and to my left.

My instincts kicked in and I hit the ground on my belly. I rolled to my left behind I boulder and leaned cautiously around the side to direct the beam at what I had seen from the corner of my eye.

It took me a few seconds to find it again. Up the hill along what almost looked like a narrow, cactus-lined animal trail I might otherwise have walked right past under the storm, maybe even under normal conditions. I had at first thought someone had been standing there, but as my brain sorted through the mental snapshot, I realized it couldn’t have been. Not unless he was inhumanly thin and lacking things like organs and skin. My beam illuminated a thin post about four feet tall, on the top of which a canine skull had been fitted through the foramen magnum, the hole at the base of the occipital bone where the spinal cord connects to the brain. The skull drifted in and out of the blowing sand as I watched. It turned one way and then the other on the wind as though shaking its head at me.

I waited for several more minutes before I risked rising to a crouch and darting uphill behind another boulder that offered a better view. The pike had been staked into the crevice between two rocks, which held it tightly enough to defy the wind. A counterclockwise spiral design had been painted onto the dead animal’s forehead. The majority of the teeth were intact, but it was apparent, even from a distance, that this skull had been sitting out under the sun for a long time.

I suppose I should have expected something like this. Maybe not the red-carpet treatment, but considering the Coyote’s flair for the dramatic and questionable sense of humor, I really should have been prepared for some sort of macabre trail marker. We both knew how and where this had to end. No sense postponing the inevitable.

While the display had been left here to help me identify the proper route, it also served to let me know that had Ban wanted to kill me right here and now, he probably could have. Instead, he wanted to take this thing all the way to the end. I’m sure he’d fantasized about this scenario so many times that it had become almost an actualization of all of his hopes and dreams, of his very life, which meant that he had a very specific denouement in mind, one he’d gone to great lengths to plan. I tried to put myself in his shoes, to enter the mind of a sociopath whose brain undoubtedly worked in a similar fashion to my own. It wasn’t as hard as I wish it had been.