for tips.
Four months ago, Huifen held a gun to her own head.
She reached out for the handle, while the other two stood side by side.
Then she opened the door, and they moved forward.
* * *
“Give me the gun.”
Brébeuf had gone to his liquor cabinet and poured them both large Scotches, but when he turned around, he held a glass in one hand and a pistol in the other. It was hanging lazily at his side, as though it was a napkin or stir stick.
On seeing it, Armand slowly stood up.
“Is it my turn now? Are you going to shoot me?”
“Like when we played soldier, running all over Mont Royal?”
“I thought we were on the same side,” said Gamache. “Back then. Give me the gun.”
“I’ll give you the drink. You might need it.”
* * *
Gélinas stood in the middle of the room, his gun aimed at Isabelle Lacoste.
“You were Serge Leduc’s partner, weren’t you?” she said, not asking but telling. Her voice was steady, calm, almost conversational. But the blush in her cheeks betrayed high emotion.
“He was a moron,” he said. No use denying anything now. “But perfectly placed.”
“To fix contracts. You must’ve made millions.”
He gave one jerk of his head, in agreement. “It’s sitting in an account in Luxembourg. I made a mistake when I was talking to Gamache, didn’t I? I mentioned Luxembourg. I knew as soon as I’d said it that I’d said something stupid. It was too specific. And too true. I wasn’t sure if he caught it.”
“He heard. But it just confirmed what he already suspected.”
“When Leduc contacted me to say that Gamache was here and investigating the contract fixing, he panicked. But so did I. I knew Leduc wasn’t clever enough to outwit him. So I came back.”
“To kill Leduc.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
The gun was by his side now, still clutched in his hand.
“But I didn’t have to kill him. Gamache got there first.”
“Non, not Monsieur Gamache,” said Lacoste.
“Then who?” asked Gélinas.
Once again, Lacoste put out her hand. As steady as her gaze.
“There’re two armed Sûreté officers outside this room, as you know. It’s over. You’re guilty of theft, but not of murder. Give me your weapon, please.”
And he did.
CHAPTER 42
The cadets raced through the factory silently. Taking stairs two at a time. Glancing into empty rooms before moving deeper and deeper.
Huifen had the map of the factory memorized by now, after many failed attempts to end the mock hostage taking and capture the gunmen.
She’d never been the officer in charge. That had always been Jacques. And it had always ended in disaster for the Sûreté. Hostage dead. Agents slain. Gunmen escaped. It was an impossible scenario, they knew. But Leduc had always told them, told Jacques, that he could do anything.
And every time Jacques failed and had to report that to the Duke, the revolver would come out. Not as punishment, Leduc explained. But as a consequence. A teaching tool. For their own good.
Now Huifen led her little team. The freshmen were baffled by her hand signals, so she kept it simple. And clear. And they moved carefully and swiftly forward.
Finally she stopped and they regrouped.
“I don’t think he’s here,” she said, looking around.
“But if not here,” said Amelia, “where?”
* * *
“You shouldn’t be here,” said Jean-Guy, walking slowly into the room.
He’d been going to Commander Gamache’s quarters, hoping to find him there, when he’d noticed that the Scene of Crime seal on Leduc’s door was broken.
With his foot, he’d gingerly pushed the door open. His pistol was still on his belt, not yet drawn.
There, in the middle of the room, stood Cadet Jacques Laurin. Holding a gun.
“The hours I spent here,” Jacques said, looking around almost casually, as though he didn’t see the Scene of Crime tape and evidence markers. And blood spray. “I sat there.” He gestured with the pistol. “And the Duke would sit there. Just the two of us. He gave me this, you know. For my birthday.”
Beauvoir looked at the automatic weapon. The same as the one on his belt. Police issue.
“He said I’d be great one day. He said I’d be running the whole Sûreté. And he’d help me. Be my mentor, my patron. He said all great men need a patron.”
“But you didn’t, did you?” said Jean-Guy, closing the door behind him. “You needed something else. Someone who genuinely cared. About you. And you thought you’d found it in Professor Leduc.”
“I did find it,” snapped Jacques. “He cared.”
“But then Commander Gamache arrived, and the world began to