Chapter 45

C HAPTER 45

Two armed men broke through the door to the control room, assault rifles raised.

Except for those lying on the floor, the place was empty. The chief engineer, gagged, was trying to communicate something.

"Fuck." The leader strode over to the chair and the open vent.

He stepped onto the chair and pointed his rifle down the shaft. And fired.

"Drop them."

Beauvoir had stepped out from behind the console, gun drawn.

The gunmen turned, swinging their rifles around. They only got partway before— Bang! Bang! Bang!

Both dropped. Beauvoir grabbed their rifles. "Come on, come on!"

Lagacé followed Beauvoir through the door. Within a minute they were down the stairs and at the wastewater-treatment room. The three workers there were looking confused but not yet panicked.

"What's happening, Manon? Was that gunfire?"

They looked at the man with her. He was holding a gun.

"Step away," said Manon. "I need the console."

She punched in some codes and watched.

"What're you doing?" one of the men demanded.

"She's opened the doors. You're causing a spill. Arrête! "

"No," said the third. "She's shutting down the whole fucking place. Listen."

He was right. Beauvoir could hear it now. A very slight change in the hum, the thrum, the throb around them. It grew deeper, slower. Like a huge heart, stopping.

"It'll still take too long…" Manon looked at Beauvoir.

"Stay here."

"Tell me where they are, Armand. They're no use to you now, but they can save your family." There was silence. "No?"

Lavigne stepped aside and nodded at the man behind Gamache.

Armand felt him tense, brace. The sort of thing a person does instinctively when about to shoot.

God, take this child…

The last thing he heard was the unmistakable sound of turbines slowing down.

He fell forward, his face hitting the concrete. He never heard the shot.

Beauvoir was at the stairwell door when he heard the gunfire.

Bursting through, he found himself in a long, wide-open corridor.

The sound of the shots were echoing, fading. Into silence. Complete and utter silence. The rivers on either side were still. Nothing moved. Nothing moved. Nothing moved.

He saw bodies sprawled on the concrete by the door to Pump Room Two.

The fireflies. They were all around him.

But they were making a strange sound. A sort of ringing. No. More like screaming.

Had the woman in Chicoutimi and the man in Gaspé seen fireflies too, just before they died? Was it some sort of illusion as the optic nerve failed?

Armand hoped they had. It was almost beautiful. Would even be peaceful, if not for the shrieking in his head. He felt numb. No pain. Not even fear. Just a sort of detachment.

Family. Family…

Jean-Guy grabbed the top two bodies, hauling them aside.

Armand was face down, blood covering the collar of his white shirt, soaking in. It was coming out of his ear and pooled in his left eye. His hands were zip-tied behind him.

"No," Jean-Guy pleaded. "Nonononono."

He put his hand against Armand's face and held it there. Afraid to turn him over. Afraid to see.

The fireflies dissipated, as though frightened away. Armand felt something on his face. A hand. Warm. Reassuring.

He couldn't see. There was something in his left eye. But still, he knew who it was. And felt a stab of joy. Jean-Guy was alive.

Out of his good right eye he saw a blurry gunman. Dead. On the ground.

And Armand knew what had happened. In the instant the man had shot, someone else had shot the gunman. The man's bullet hadn't done its job. Not entirely. Not yet.

Armand felt his hands cut free. He was being turned over. Jean-Guy was kneeling beside him. Holding his hand. Saying something.

He saw his lips move but could only hear the shrieking in his head. He tasted blood and knew he was blind in one eye. Had the bullet exited there?

He moved his lips.

Jean-Guy bent close.

"Go." Armand thought he'd spoken but couldn't hear his own voice. "Stop them."

Beauvoir looked at the open door to Pump Two. "The poison?"

"It was put in." The words, weak, came from the woman slumped against the wall, a handgun lying at her side. "I heard the gunman confirm it just before I shot them. We're too late. The senior tech in there has another poison."

Beauvoir ran to the door to Pump Two and pulled it open. There, on the floor, lay the workers. For a moment Beauvoir thought they were all dead. Then, one by one, they lifted their heads.

"Stay where you are. I'm with the S?reté."

"She's one of them," a worker said, pointing to a woman in a white coat. "She put something into the water."

"Hands on your heads," Beauvoir commanded. "All of you."

Wide-eyed, wild-eyed, he looked for the landline. He had to call emergency measures. He ran toward it.

"No."

Beauvoir saw Gamache leaning against the door. Blood covered half his face, and his voice was unnaturally loud as though shouting over some sound.

"I have to call for help," said Beauvoir.

"Not poison. Water. Switched." His head was throbbing, and his vision blurred, and he was losing his ability to speak. His senses seemed to be abandoning him. He could feel his legs buckling. "Left poison at Pump One. Below console. You need to get it."

Beauvoir stared at Gamache. "Water?" Jean-Guy could feel himself growing giddy. "It was just water they put in?"

But the Chief was now just staring, his head lowering. His breathing coming in short gasps. He was on the verge of passing out. Beauvoir knew the bullet had grazed the Chief's head, but the explosion so close to his ear must've caused a bad concussion, maybe worse.

He moved toward him.

"Go," said Armand, shaking his head. "Secure the plant."

Before he did, Jean-Guy patted down the head technician and found another vial. He cuffed her to the pump.

"You going to be okay?" he asked Armand, who nodded.

Then Jean-Guy disappeared down the corridor. Pushing himself off the doorway, Armand stumbled back, passing the bodies of the gunmen and David Lavigne, before slumping against the wall next to the woman who'd saved his life.

Holding her in his arms, he whispered, "Jeanne?"