Tricked

up. Dudes in starched uniforms patrolled the gates. They had a dog, and that made me smile. There isn’t a dog in the world who will bark at me if I don’t want him to.
    Camouflage on, I slipped through the entrance and headed for the working machinery. As before, I seized up the engines with a binding that made them useless. After the first one, however, the worker radioed what happened and a signal went out to shut down all machinery immediately, before the strange failure could spread. They seemed to think some exotic additive was being squeezed into the fuel tanks by hippies, because they started to siphon gas out of the tanks, pump in a detergent, siphon that out, and then replace it with new gas. This amused me as I made my way from machine to machine, carefully opening the engine compartments and locking up the cylinders while they were busy worrying about the gas. What would they think happened this time? Would they cling to the same theory, reasoning that they hadn’t caught the sabotage in time, or would they invent new theories?
    I was fairly certain that local environmental activists were going to be questioned about these mysterious machinery breakdowns. The hassle would annoy them, of course, but I wiped away my guilt by imagining that they’d also enjoy the schadenfreude of a coal company losing money. I was certainly enjoying all the cussing they were doing.
    This, I hoped, would be proof enough for Colorado that I was serious about keeping things shut down. Perhaps now he’d work on moving that gold for me and getting me out from underneath Coyote’s paw.

Chapter 24
    The sun was setting behind the sandstone buttes of Tyende Mesa as we drove up to Coyote’s claim site. Crows scattered at our approach, and I wondered what had attracted them to the area.
    The first hogan was completely finished now in terms of protection, and work had begun on building an administration building for the mine. Coyote was waiting for us and hurried over to say a few words out of earshot of the rest.
    » Welcome back, Mr. Druid. You get all your errands finished? «
    » Yep. If I’m right, those vampires you mentioned should start to disappear. «
    » Huh. That a fact? «
    » Near as I can tell. «
    » Good. And when d’ya think I’m gonna see that gold start to appear? «
    » Still working on that, don’t worry. I don’t suppose you took care of those skinwalkers while I was gone? «
    » Shit no. Ain’t my problem. «
    » Ain’t mine either. The deal was to put gold under this mesa, not make the area safe. «
    Coyote spat on the ground, squinted at me, and repeated himself. » Huh. That a fact? «
    » You know it is. «
    » All right, « Coyote said, seeing that others were approaching. It was Ben Keonie and one of his crew. » My work is done here for today. See you ’round, Mr. Druid. Miss Druid. « He looked into the SUV and realized someone was missing. » Hey. Where’s your dog? «
    » Never you mind, « I said. » Your work is done here for the day, whatever that was. Sweet dreams. « He ignored me and turned to Granuaile.
    » Whatja do, leave that dog back in Flagstaff? «
    » Did you leave us anything to eat in there, « Granuaile replied, pointing at the hogan, » or did you hog it all? «
    Coyote spat again and idly scratched his chest. » So it’s like that. All right. Have it your way. Damn Druids. « He turned and stalked off to a black work truck. I wondered what happened to the blue one he’d had a few days ago.
    The temperature was dropping rapidly as the sun sank below Tyende Mesa. Granuaile and I hurried up to the first hogan. Ben Keonie greeted us with a smile, but he and his crew member looked disappointed when they didn’t see Oberon with us. Ben, for his part, had been looking forward to another bout of tug-of-war, and apparently Oberon’s friendly ass-sniffing had made him popular with the entire crew. They accompanied us back to the hogan.
    Racks of bunk beds filled one side of the hogan now. Sophie Betsuie was lying in one, eyes glued to an e-reading device of some kind, but she looked up long enough to wave at us.
    There was a standard fire in the middle of the room; the lava rocks were gone. Frank Chischilly sat on a metal folding chair on one side of a card table, reading the collected works of Edgar Allan Poe by the light of a kerosene lantern.
    He saw me looking at the book and said, » Guess I can’t get enough spooky shit right now, heh heh. « He slipped a bookmark