“Both called me unpleasant names. Unka was more creative.”

“You had to kick them?”

“We know where to find them.”

“Someone’s working a tail?”

“Hadn’t thought of that.”

“Scarborough, too?”

“Hadn’t thought—”

“For God’s sake.” Already it had been a very long day. I was not up to their testosterone wrangling. “Knock it off.”

Ryan and I cleaned our plates. Then we sat in awkward silence until Mary delivered Ollie’s pike. While he ate, I provided further details of our visit with Horace Tyne.

“We ran the half sister,” he said when I’d finished. “Snook’s her married name. She was born Nellie France in Fort Resolution.”

“Where’s that?”

“The south shore of Great Slave Lake. Where the pavement ends.”

“Literally?”

“Yes.”

“So people in Yellowknife might actually be unaware of Snook’s connection to Ruben.”

“It’s possible, though Chalker should know.” Ollie dipped a french fry in mayo and ate it.

“Rainwater’s with Snook now?”

“He’ll try making nice. If that fails, he’ll ask for a warrant. What’s your take on Tyne?”

“The guy’s a sleaze. But an environmentally conscious sleaze.”

“Friends of the Tundra.” Ollie dipped and popped another fry. “Never heard of it.”

“I was surprised to learn that diamond mining is big business here.”

“You haven’t noticed the banners on every lamppost?” Ollie made a marquis gesture with one hand. “Yellowknife, Diamond Capital of North America. There’s a big-ass rock on the official city logo.”

“You ever hear of this guy Fipke?”

“You’re kidding.” Ollie regarded me with the same incredulity Tyne had displayed. “Chuck Fipke’s a legend.”

“Fine. I’ll get a book.”

“Copies in every souvenir shop in town. Or google Fipke.”

“Is Tyne right about the caribou herds?”

“Some locals, mostly aboriginals, claim that diamond mining is disrupting the migration routes. It’s a hot issue up here. When De Beers proposed opening Snap Lake, some of the chiefs banded together. Set the project back years. Environmental-impact studies and all. Now De Beers wants to bring another operation online. I forget the name.”

“Gahcho Kué.”

“That’s it.” Ollie bunched and tossed his napkin. “You should talk to Rainwater. He knows more about the mining controversy than I do.”

I was draining my Diet Coke when Ollie’s phone rang. The conversation lasted under a minute. I got little from his end. Except that he was irked.

“Snook stonewalled.” Jamming the cell back onto his belt. “Rainwater’s going to ask a judge to cut paper.”

“Now what?”

“Now we wait for someone to screw up.”

*  *  *

Three hours in my room produced an unplanned nap, a message from Katy saying she had news too important for e-mail, and voluminous information on Chuck Fipke and geological exploration.