A Great Reckoning (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #12) - Louise Penny Page 0,54
was an old adage, a cliché even, and Gamache was not given to spouting clichés. So when he did, it must be particularly apropos.
“‘Not only must justice be done,’” she quoted, “‘it must also be seen to be done.’ What are you saying? That I need to hold a news conference?”
“Well, that might not be a bad idea, but my thoughts run to something more nuanced. This is the Sûreté Academy. The professors are all former officers or those on leave, like Inspector Beauvoir, or people who do contract work with the Sûreté. I’m the former head of homicide. Your former boss.”
Chief Inspector Lacoste got it then.
“In effect, it’s the Sûreté investigating the Sûreté.”
“In a murder case,” said Gamache.
She nodded, considering. “You think I should call Chief Superintendent Brunel and ask that an outside agency take over?”
“Non,” he shook his head. “Not take over. You must fight against that. Simply ask that an outside investigator be sent. Someone who can vouch for the fairness of your investigation.”
She sat thinking. Her thoughts were not happy ones. “Have you ever had to do that?”
“Twice. It was not pleasant. But it had to be done. And better to have it come from you than be imposed. I suspect Chief Superintendent Brunel is contemplating it even now.”
Lacoste pulled out her iPhone and punched in the number for the head of the Sûreté. “Is there someone I should ask for specifically?”
“No,” he said, getting to his feet. “That would taint it. You have to take what comes. I’ll leave you to it.”
Gamache stepped into his outer office just as Jean-Guy arrived.
“They’re heading down to Three Pines, patron.”
“Good. Merci.”
Now, close up, Beauvoir could see how stressed Gamache really was.
“There is something,” said Jean-Guy. “One of their maps is missing.”
“Whose?”
“The Goth Girl’s.”
“Amelia?”
Beauvoir raised his brows at the familiarity.
“Cadet Choquet, yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She seemed surprised. She denied there was any special relationship with Professor Leduc, aside from taking him coffee in the morning and gathering for the odd meeting with others in his rooms.”
“So it’s true,” said Gamache. “She was one of them.”
Gamache took a deep, deep breath, then on the exhale he looked out the door and down the empty hallway that had once teemed with cadets and was now completely devoid of life.
He muttered so quietly as to be almost inaudible, “What have I done?”
CHAPTER 15
“You’ve kidnapped us.”
“That’s a little harsh, wouldn’t you say?” said Armand Gamache later that day as he stood in the bistro and looked at the four cadets. “Hardly a prison.”
“You know what I mean,” said Jacques.
“Oh yes, Cadet Laurin. I heard you.”
Amelia wondered if Jacques had picked up on what the Commander was really saying. But he seemed too intent on his own message to hear anyone else’s.
“Why’re we here?” Huifen Cloutier asked, her tone more polite, though the edge was still noticeable.
It was midafternoon and the bistro was filling up, but their table was private. At Gamache’s request, Olivier had given them a place in the corner, tucked between the wall and the window. When Commander Gamache walked in, they’d stood up, but now he waved them to their seats and grabbed a chair for himself from another table.
Amelia found herself at home in the faintly familiar surroundings. It didn’t smell of urine and cigarettes, like the rooming house. It didn’t sound hollow, like the academy. Instead, it smelt of wood smoke and coffee, and she could hear the fire crackle in the grate and the murmur of muffled conversation nearby, spiced by laughter. Not the loud, often jarring, bursts of laughter that reverberated down the halls of the academy. This was a low rumble. An undertone of good humor.
After being marched out of the academy, she’d been taken to an unmarked Sûreté vehicle, already running, with Nathaniel waiting in the backseat and two plainclothes agents in the front seat. As they’d been driven deeper and deeper into the wilderness, away from the academy and way away from Sûreté headquarters, her disquiet had grown.
The car had turned off the main road and taken progressively smaller back roads. Then, finally, a dirt road.
“Where’re you taking us?” she demanded, just as the car slowed and crested a hill. “Where are we?”
“Well, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” said one of the plainclothes agents, turning around.
It was Gabri. And Amelia immediately recognized the village.
“Three Pines,” she said. “But why?”
“Honestly,” said Olivier, as they pulled up to the bistro, “I have no idea why Monsieur Gamache wants you back. But he does.”