It went on like that, Ollie asking questions, Scar insisting he knew nothing, me fighting the urge to reach through the monitor and throttle the little turd.

At seven, Ollie gave Scar the old saw about not leaving town. Abruptly, he rose and left the room.

Scar flung curses at Ollie’s retreating back. Before the monitor went dark, he shouted one last zinger at the door.

“You’re so fucking clueless, you might as well be working right between your cheeks.”

*  *  *

We spoke little during the drive to the airport, the check-in process, and the brief wait at the gate. By some fluke, our flight boarded on time. Thanks to a malicious god, I drew the seat next to Ollie.

We were buckling our belts and powering down our mobiles when the pilot’s voice came over the speakers. I knew right away that he did not have good news.

Mechanical problem. Thirty-minute delay.

“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.”