The soulpipe was gone. In its place, in the center of the rotunda, was a smoking crater.
"Stay back," said Nevada, and then he ran toward the crater. In spite of his order, he heard Antarctica running close behind him.
When Nevada reached the broken rim of the crater, he saw what had caused the impact. He saw what had fallen from above like a fiery comet.
The body of Sinaloa lay in the crater's heart, curled like a fist and charred from tip to toe.
Antarctica drew up alongside Nevada and gagged. "Oh no."
"I guess they're not taking our calls." Nevada stepped over the edge and eased into the crater. He saw that parts of Sinaloa were still smoldering, glowing cherry red in familiar patterns.
There were messages on Sinaloa's body, burned into his flesh.
"Ninety-seven." Nevada po
