The enigma that was tubal cain kept nagging at me.
How does a psycho like Martin Maxwell bluff his way through the rigorous selection processes employed by the Secret Service? How does he manage to conceal his true self-a depraved stalker and murderer-and pass himself off as normal?
Not only that, but to his wife and kids, had he been the epitome of the family dad? What had gone through their minds when they'd?nally seen his true face?
What had his long-lost brother imagined when they'd?rst met? That they'd pick up on their missing past, that they'd shoot pool together, share a couple of beers, become bosom buddies? I bet he never imagined that he'd end up a scorched corpse in a house he'd never known, the ghosts of Cain's wife and children keeping him company.
"You're doing it again," Rink said.
I looked over at Rink, who was doing a good job of looking at me without taking his full attention from the trail.
"Doing what?"
"Wearing that face."
"What face?"
"The face that says you ain't worried about what's to come. The one you always wore on missions."
"I'm worried, Rink."
"Don't look like it."
Then he changed the subject.
"Heads up, Hunter. The lights have just gone out."
I peered into the darkness ahead. I couldn't see the Dodge's taillights, either. They'd long taunted us, and their sudden disappearance brought an uncomfortable feeling. Like a hole had opened up and the devil had escaped us by?eeing back to hell.
"You think he's stopped? Maybe?xin' to escape?" Rink glanced my way again, back to the road. "No. He's running blind. He wants to get ahead of us so he can set up an ambush."
"Time we played catch-up, then," Rink said. The SUV surged ahead, bouncing over the higher ruts, blasting directly through others so that gravel and small rocks banged and clattered in the wheel wells.
Now the chase was truly on.
Again I checked my SIG. Full clip. Two spares in my waistband. Then I reached down and felt the hilt of my military issue KA-BAR where it was tucked in my boot. Somehow I suspected that the knife would be my weapon of choice when I?nally came eye to eye with the murderous bastard.
Stars twinkled in the vault above us. Out here, in the middle of this empty space, the sky was endless, the starlight sharply de?ned. Shadows were stark, and the sand and gravel had a faintly luminous quality. Rocketing across the night landscape, the beauty of the desert was lost on me. I didn't give any of it a second's notice. How could I think of beauty when I was chasing something as loathsome as Tubal Cain?
I was inclined to lean out the window to check the night sky for another reason: as we'd used the technology Walter had given to us, I had no doubt we were being tailed as diligently as we tailed Cain. They wouldn't be coming in cars; they'd have command of helicopters, possibly even an AWACS aircraft high in the heavens to plot our course. In the end, I didn't bother looking. Helicopters would be piloted without running lights, and a high-altitude spy plane would be impossible to spot.
"When we?nd him we do him quickly," I said to Rink.
"My intention all along."
"Walter's goons will be coming," I added.
"They won't try and stop us."
"I know. They'll be coming to mop up, to make sure everything's clean. I don't want John falling into their hands." I looked pointedly at Rink, and he jerked his chin in response. "They'll make John disappear. They might even make us disappear."
"They'll goddamn try, frog-giggin' punks."
I returned my attention to the road ahead. The brush country was giving way to a higher elevation. On the skyline ahead, I could detect a deepening of the shadows, as if a colossal wall had been erected astride the desert.
"You any idea where we are?" I asked Rink.
"Nope."
I looked for the GPS, switched it on, and studied the faintly glowing map on the LED screen. Tightly knit lines showed that the terrain was more mountainous ahead. The road wasn't marked on the map, but that came as no surprise. I placed the GPS down at my feet. "Keep on going. Looks like we're heading for those hills."
Rink obliged. But we'd traveled no more than a quarter of a mile before I slapped my hands on the dashboard and commanded him to stop. I craned around so I didn't lose sight of what was at the side of the road. Rink brought the SUV to a halt even as I was opening the door to get out.
I jogged back the way we'd come, slowed down, and came to a halt twenty yards from what I'd noticed protruding from a clump of brush.
I listened.
Nothing moved in the sandscape. All I could hear was the throaty hum of the SUV behind me and the rushing blood in my veins. Still, I remained motionless, using my peripheral vision to probe the shadows. What is often missed when viewed directly can be picked up in the peripheral, the slightest movement ampli?ed tenfold. It's a prey animal thing, a throwback to the days when man was hunted by carnivorous beasts.
Finally satis?ed that this wasn't part of Cain's ambush, I stepped forward. A quick inspection showed that the dirt and gravel at the side of the road had been disturbed. More concerning, I saw a damp patch of blood where a body had been dragged across the earth. I guessed that John had made some effort at escape, only to be captured and forced back into the Dodge. Cain had John, yes, but he hadn't noticed the briefcase that was hung up in the bushes farther along the trail.
I trotted over and snatched the Samsonite case from the brush. I was in no doubt that it was the one I'd seen John clinging to at the beach house. Chance could have dumped a briefcase way out here in the desert, but not one glistening with sticky blood. I didn't spare the time to check its contents, noting only that it was heavy before I stuffed it under my arm and headed back to the SUV.
When I was back in the car, Rink set off again after Cain. He asked, "You thinking what I'm thinking?" "Money," I said. I opened the case on my lap. Bundle upon bundle of bills?lled the case. Rink gave a low whistle.
"Counterfeit?"
I checked.
"No. The real thing."
"So that's what this is all about," Rink said.
I shook my head. "I don't think so, Rink. It was never about the money. Cain wants blood. That's all it's ever been about."
"Bones," Rink corrected.
"But I do think this is what it's all been about for John."
"Goddamn greedy fool."
I shook my head. "Believe it or not, I don't think he did this out of greed. I think he sees it as a way to put things right."
"Yeah," Rink said with no conviction. I shrugged. I knew John better than that. I believed that he'd changed. The old John wouldn't have jeopardized his safety for the old woman; he wouldn't have risked lifting the cell phone from my pocket for fear that Cain saw him. To me, John had turned a corner in his life, where more than his next bet meant something to him.
Even what we'd just come across back there on the trail now made sense to me. He hadn't attempted to escape at all; he'd jumped from the Dodge so he could leave the cash for me to?nd. The money wasn't for him; it was for Louise, it was for Jenny, it was for his children. Stuffing the case beneath my seat, I put the money to the back of my mind. I could see to it later.