“Holy Mother of God. Do these airlines ever take off on time?”

Feeling a response would be pointless, I offered none.

“If it’s not the weather, it’s something wrong with the plane, or the crew’s gone missing, or some other damn thing.”

Making no attempt at subtlety, I opened my Ian Rankin novel and began to read. Sergeant Sensitive did not take the hint.

“Scar’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?”

My eyes remained glued to my book.

“We think he’s trying to expand, run product north into the territories.”

I turned a page. Damn, I was going to miss Rebus.

“The bastard’s smarter than he looks. Keeps a layer between himself and the street. Impossible to pin shit to him.”

Nope.

Ollie gave up talking to my right ear. Several minutes passed while he flipped through the flyer on safety instructions and the on-board magazine. Then, sighing theatrically, he returned both to their pouch.

“I think Scar knows more than he’s saying about Ruben.”

That got my attention. Closing my book, I turned sideways. “Why?”

“Remember how the creep got his name?”

“He burned a girl.”

“Story goes, he tracked her all the way to Saskatoon. Wanted to send out a warning.”

“To?”

“Anyone thinking of quitting his employ.”

“Ruben left Edmonton three years ago. Why wait so long?”

“Montreal’s big. And far away. Ruben changed her name and laid low, so she was able to fly under Scar’s radar. Now she’s back on his turf. And there’s one other detail I haven’t shared.”

I waited.

“Scar’s from Yellowknife.”

“How do you know that?”

“We’ve been trying to nail the bastard for years. We know.”

“You think he might go after Ruben?”

“Word is Scar’s trying to move in on the action up there. To do that, he needs to show he plays hardball.”

A cold hollowness filled my gut. I leaned into the seat back and closed my eyes. Why such apprehension? Fear for Ruben’s safety? In all likelihood, the woman had killed her own babies. Abandoned their bodies without a backward glance.

Or had she? Had it been Ruben’s choice? Had someone else done it or forced her hand? It could not have been Scar in Montreal. Then who? Was that person helping her now?

Nothing made sense.

Forex and Scar both said Ruben wasn’t very smart. Yet she’d gotten herself to Quebec and lived incognito for three years. She’d concealed her pregnancies, delivered and murdered at least four infants. She’d eluded the Project KARE task force. She’d eluded and continued to elude both the RCMP and the QPP.

How? A complex support network? A single partner? Street smarts? Blind luck?

I turned to Ollie. “Scar said you were clueless. What did he mean by that?”

“Braggadocio.”

“Good word.”

“I downloaded an app that pops you a new one every day.”

“They ever send ‘clueless’?” I hooked quote marks. I wasn’t amused.

“It’s just trash talk. The last thing Scar wants is me shining a light up his ass.”