Chapter 37

C HAPTER 37

The conference call was set up for later that evening.

"They have no idea what it's about?" Gamache asked as they headed to the border.

"None. But they got the message that it was serious."

"What is this about?" The Mountie in the back seat leaned forward.

Jeanne Caron's assistant, seated with the RCMP officer, listened as Gamache finally answered the Mountie's questions.

When Chief Inspector Gamache finished, both men were gaping at him.

"Wait a minute. My boss is planning to poison Montréal's drinking water? That's im—?"

They waited for him to say impossible , but instead, he fell silent. Gamache had turned in his seat and was watching the young assistant.

"Her routine has changed. She comes back after everyone else has left. Must be really late because I don't leave before eight every evening. I know she's been in by the changes on her desk next morning. Some classified files have been pulled and some have disappeared. Other executive assistants have come to me looking for them, but they're gone. I think she's also copied documents from other departments."

"What departments?"

"I can't remember them all."

"Try!" demanded Beauvoir. Gamache put his hand on Jean-Guy's arm to tell him to pull it back.

"The only one I can remember is the Auditor General. I couldn't figure out why she'd go there. When rumors started that our boss, Monsieur Lauzon, would be promoted to Deputy PM, I figured she was just familiarizing herself with the dossiers."

"But…?" said Gamache, his voice steady.

"But there seemed a frenzy about it. She's normally so methodical. We call her Robo-COS. For Chief of St—"

"She wasn't consulting the files, she was cleansing them," snapped Beauvoir. "Taking out anything incriminating to her boss." He turned to Gamache. "Jesus. Including the episode with his daughter."

"What episode?" Sargent Gauthier asked but got no answer.

Privately, Gamache agreed with Jean-Guy.

After the charges of vehicular manslaughter against Lauzon's daughter were dropped, Armand had gone to the Auditor General. It was the department that oversaw ethics.

Gamache hadn't expected any action, and indeed, there was none. But he did want both the cover-up and subsequent threats placed in the record. A record that would have now been expunged. By Jeanne Caron.

That also explained why she wanted, needed, to see him. Why she'd called the other day. To issue fresh, even more serious threats. To make sure he was not tempted to go public. He could prove nothing, but an accusation against the Deputy Prime Minister might be enough.

Still, something didn't track. If Caron and the Deputy PM were that desperate, if they'd killed Langlois and Parisi and probably others, why not also kill him? Or, if they were afraid he'd left evidence with a lawyer, at least come to him with new threats. But they had not. They'd been singularly silent since those calls.

And that was frightening. It was as though some huge creature were swimming just below the surface. Biding its time.

We wait. We wait.

"Where to?" Beauvoir asked.

"Montréal. The Mission."

"You think Caron and Dom Philippe have gone there?" Beauvoir asked. "Why?"

"Honestly? Because I can't think where else they might've gone. If the attack is soon, within hours, maybe a day, they'll probably want to make sure everything's in order. I'm hoping they've set up a meeting with whoever has the poison and is actually going to do it. Where better than a shelter for homeless men and women? A safe place."

"A sanctuary," said Caron's assistant, sitting forward. "The old man used that word when he was convincing Madame Caron to go with him."

"He said sanctuary?" said Gamache.

"Yes. Said they'd be safe. Do you really think Monsieur Lauzon is also involved?"

"Involved?" said Beauvoir. "He's the black wolf."

"The what?"

"The one behind this. When thousands die, tens of thousands get sick, someone will have to be blamed besides the terrorists. And it won't be him."

"The Prime Minister," said the Mountie.

"Exactly. It'll be seen as his failure. There'll be a revolt against him in caucus. The Deputy PM, Lauzon, will take over. He'll declare martial law, suspend civil liberties. Political enemies will be silenced."

"A coup," said Castonguay.

"A police state," said Sargent Gauthier.

"I'll text my friend," said the assistant, "and tell her I can't make dinner. Then she won't be worried when I don't show up."

Gamache handed the phone to him, but caught the eye of the Mountie, who made sure that was what the young man really wrote.

"You again." Claudine McGregor stared at the two men in front of her.

Caron's assistant and the RCMP officer had stayed in the car. A Mountie in full dress uniform tended to draw not the most welcome attention at a homeless shelter.

Gamache and Beauvoir, however, were beginning to fit right in. Both were worn and drawn. Their clothes were rumpled and slightly soiled and not as fresh as they once were.

"Need a bed, gentlemen?" the Executive Director of The Mission asked. "And a bath?"

Gamache gave her a tight smile. "We need information. Is the man you call the Big Stink here?"

He felt ridiculous calling the Abbot that, and even more ridiculous when she corrected him.

"No ‘the,' just ‘Big Stink.'"

Gamache stared at her, waiting for an answer.

"I'm not going to give the cops information on any of our clients. This is a safe place for them. They need to know that."

"A sanctuary?" asked Gamache. "Did Big Stink call it that?"

"How should I know? I didn't follow him around. Tried to keep upwind of him." She held Gamache's eyes. "Okay, look, he isn't here."

"We can get a warrant," he said.

"Then get one. But you'll be wasting your time. I get the feeling you don't have much to waste. I'm telling you the truth, Chief Inspector. I really am."

Gamache gave a curt nod and made for the door. "Come on. They're not here."

"You believe her?" asked Beauvoir, following him out onto the street.

"Do you?"

Beauvoir thought. He'd actually come to respect the elderly woman, who'd stepped up when others had run away. He nodded.

"Then where are they?"

"There are two other places Dom Philippe would consider a sanctuary."

"Saint-Gilbert-Entre-les-Loups," said Beauvoir as they got into the vehicle. "And his childhood home in Blanc-Sablon."

"Exactly." Gamache slammed his door shut.

"Not there?" asked the Mountie gesturing toward The Mission.

" Non. So which one is it? Where'd he go?"

All three stared at the Chief Inspector, waiting for him to answer. Waiting for him to tell them what to do.

Armand brought his hands to his face. Rubbing his eyes and, as the others watched with some concern, he held his face in his hands. As though trying to shut out the world. The pressure. The pressure. The unrelenting, crushing pressure.

He had to choose. Had to answer the question. Which one?

Everything was riding on getting it right, and he'd already been wrong once. Both places were far away, there'd be no recovering from a mistake. And the conference call was fast approaching. The point of no return.

Probably not the monastery, not with Jeanne Caron, a woman, in tow. Though perhaps that was exactly why Dom Philippe would choose it.

Blanc-Sablon was remote, hard to get to, and the Abbot knew it well. Knew the hiding places, had friends and family there who'd protect them, even from the police. Especially from the police.

There was no clear answer. Maybe he should just guess. Then the scales, and his hands, dropped from his eyes and he turned to Beauvoir.

"Three Pines."

"What?"

"Dom Philippe told Olivier that the village was a sanctuary. They've gone there."

"To Three Pines?" said Beauvoir, not believing it. "Why?"

"It's close, it's essentially hidden—"

"And it's where you live, patron . Would a person trying to hide from you go right to where you live?"

"It's where I'd go. I'd hide in my enemy's camp. Dom Philippe might not be that cunning, but Jeanne Caron sure is."

In the rearview mirror Gamache saw the Mountie texting. Without doubt warning his family. Warning Diane's family. To get out of Montréal.

Armand didn't stop him. He owed her that.

Beauvoir pulled out and headed south toward the village. "If you're right, Annie and Reine-Marie and the family might be in danger."

"I doubt it. The Abbot and Caron would want to be as inconspicuous as possible. They'd never approach a home. They just want to lie low and wait until the worst is over. Still, I'll text them and the others, to make sure they lock their doors."

As he did that, the assistant said, "If you think Madame Caron and this Abbot are behind the plot, why would they have to hide? Who're they hiding from? Shouldn't we be the ones hiding?"

"They're hiding from us," said the Mountie. "They know we're after them."

"Come on," the assistant looked around. "If you're right, Chief Inspector, then Madame Caron has ordered at least one murder, probably more. She has killers at her disposal, and she's afraid of us?"

Beauvoir, slightly ruffled by the implication that he was not much of a threat, had to admit it was a good question. Why would Caron and the Abbot need a sanctuary?

"Oh, shit," he said, glancing at Gamache. "Maybe they're not hiding at all. You don't think they've gone to Three Pines to try to frame you? Maybe plant some of those classified documents in the village so that it looks like you're involved?"

Gamache was silent. That honestly had not occurred to him.

"Maybe they want to keep those documents safe," suggested the Mountie. "Maybe that's what ‘sanctuary' meant. A safe place for the files."

"Right," said Jean-Guy, warming to the Mountie and his theory. "To be retrieved later, when the chaos settles down."

"But why?" asked the Mountie. "What's in those files?"

All three began speaking at once.

"I think they incriminate Lauzon." Gamache's quiet voice cut through the noise, and there was silence. "That's why she stole them. You might be right. It's not so much themselves they need to keep safe, but the documents. Not to incriminate me, or to protect Lauzon, but to protect themselves."

"It's insurance," said Beauvoir. "Once he's in power, he'll probably start eliminating everyone who's a danger to him. Page one of the tyrant's handbook."

"But if those documents can be insurance," said Sargent Gauthier, "they can also be a weapon. Blackmail."

"Holy shit," said Frederick Castonguay. "Lauzon might be PM, but with that evidence she, they, would hold all the power."

"If they can keep those documents safe, yes," said Gamache.

"What is it?" Beauvoir asked.

They'd just turned onto the dirt road that led to Three Pines.

In the front passenger seat, the Chief had groaned. The sort of low growl or moan a person makes who's trying to suppress pain.

"An email came through an hour ago from the Chicoutimi investigation."

"The murder of that female postal employee."

" Oui. I'm just reading it now. I think we now know why she was murdered. She had a nephew. His name is Ferdinand, but he changed it to Robert when he became—"

"Oh, shit. A Carthusian monk."

"Yes." Gamache got on the phone to Lacoste.

"She was murdered to send a message to him," said Beauvoir as Gamache listened to the silence on the phone, waiting for it to engage. Then the line went dead.

He tried again. It could not connect. The monastery of Grande Chartreuse, like Saint-Gilbert, was too remote for reliable coverage.

"When Robert found out about his aunt's murder," Beauvoir was saying, "he took off for Grande Chartreuse. He must've been terrified. But what about the man on the Magdalen Islands? How does he fit in? It was the same hitman, wasn't it?"

"Or woman," said Gamache as he finished the quick text to Lacoste. "I think so."

Beauvoir stopped the SUV a hundred meters from the top of the hill that led down into Three Pines, and all four got out.

It was just after six o'clock. Midnight in France. He had to assume Lacoste was either speaking to Brother Robert, or would be soon.

The conference call was fast approaching. He had to get solid information before then.

On the way down, in the silent vehicle, he'd gone over where the Abbot and the Chief of Staff would lie low.

The hermit's cabin? But the Abbot almost certainly wouldn't know about that.

The B&B? The bistro? Places he'd be familiar with. Perhaps hiding in a basement. But there was no guarantee they would not be discovered.

They wouldn't dare try a private home. Or the Inn and Spa in what had been the Old Hadley House. Too many people.

Finally, all that was left was the obvious. He pointed toward St. Thomas's chapel, which had a weak glow from inside.

"Sanctuary."

He instructed Caron's assistant to stay in the car, then nodded to Beauvoir, who reluctantly gave the man the keys.

"Just in case," said Gamache, and the young man understood.

They started toward the small church, but just then, an urgent flagged message appeared. It was from Isabelle.

As Gamache read, his face grew even more stern.

"Brother Robert's dead. He fell, or more probably was thrown, from the wall of Grande Chartreuse."

"Shit. That means he can't tell us anything."

"That means the cleanup has begun," said Gamache. "And the attack is about to begin, if it hasn't already."

He began walking quickly toward the chapel, where their last hope lay.

Then broke into a run.