“What the hell’s going on?” Cox asked. “What’s this? Where’s our big turbo prop?”

“There was a mechanical issue, so we’re using this one,” Banner said.

“You expect us all to cram into that little toy?”

“Relax, there’s a seat for everybody. We could have a weather issue along the way and the ride might get bumpy, but we’ll get there. There’s no lavatory though, so we’ll make a pee stop for you, Terry,” Banner grinned.

“Do you believe this?” Cox shook his head, turning to the two Americans, who shrugged off Cox’s concerns as they helped Yacine climb the stairs into the aircraft.

“Are you trying to tell me that you’re a nervous flyer?”

“I’m telling you that this thing doesn’t exactly instill my confidence in air travel. It looks like it’s powered by rubber bands.”

“Relax, Terry, it’s all good.”

Once all the men had boarded, they started the engines and secured clearance. The plane roared down the runway and lifted off on its secret flight.

Destination: Seattle, Washington.

-Chapter 35-

Somewhere Over Saskatchewan

The ground dropped and vast stretches of land flowed below like an eternal patchwork quilt.

Yacine remained shackled, chained to his seat and peering out of the window. One of the men sat directly behind him, one beside him, while Fortin and the gum-snapper faced him. None of Yacine’s escorts carried firearms.

Each was armed with a stun gun.

It didn’t take long to reach cruising altitude, where Yacine passed much of his time reading Nietzsche’s defense of the evil that men do.

Fortin continued studying Yacine’s file, even though he’d read it the previous night in his motel room because he had trouble sleeping. Too much was at stake with Yacine’s case. The stress brought on nightmares and the past had tormented Fortin.

So he got up and went over the file again.

And now, on the plane, Fortin read it one more time.

Robert Lazarus Yacine, FPS Number 050300D. NCIC Number: M-51428683J. A U.S. citizen of Algerian descent, born in Ashland, Kentucky; ex-military, Special-Ops in Iraq, ex-mercenary in Africa, was serving time in Saskatchewan after shooting and wounding two armored car guards about a year ago in a botched multi-million dollar heist in Montreal at what is now known as Pierre Elliott Trudeau International Airport.

The guards survived.

Yacine had good lawyers. He’d gotten ten years.

But six months before the armored car hit in Canada, fourteen people were shot, six of them killed, during a $1.5 million dollar bank robbery in Seattle. The masked suspects used AKs and tear gas in the commando-style attack.

A shoe impression from a suspect, who’d stepped on a freshly mopped section of the floor in the Seattle case, was consistent with an impression collected five months earlier in a robbery-homicide of a restaurant in Washington, D.C.