How the Light Gets In (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #9) - Louise Penny Page 0,43

degree in art history.

Village life and Jérôme Brunel did not, Gamache suspected, naturally mix.

After one quiet circuit, Jérôme stopped and stared at the three huge pine trees, lit up and pointing into the sky. Then, while Gamache threw the ball to Henri, Jérôme looked around at the homes surrounding the village green. Some were redbrick, some were clapboard, some were made of fieldstone, as though expelled from the earth they sat on. A natural phenomenon. But instead of commenting on the village, Jérôme’s glance returned to the three huge pines. He tilted his head back, and followed them. Up, up. Into the stars.

“Do you know, Armand,” he said, his face still turned to the sky, “some of those aren’t stars at all. They’re communication satellites.”

His head, and gaze, dropped to earth. He met Gamache’s eyes. Between them there was a haze of warm breath in the freezing air.

“Oui,” said Armand. Henri sat at his feet staring at the tennis ball, encrusted with frozen drool, in Gamache’s gloved hand.

“They orbit,” Jérôme continued. “Receiving signals and sending them. The whole earth is covered.”

“Almost the whole earth,” said Gamache.

In the light from the trees the Chief saw a smile on Jérôme’s moon face.

“Almost,” Jérôme nodded. “That’s why you brought us here, isn’t it? Not just because it’s the last place anyone would think to look for us, but because this village is invisible. They can’t see us, can they?” He waved to the night sky.

“Did you notice,” Gamache asked, “as soon as we drove down that hill, our cell phones went dead.”

“I did notice. And it’s not just cells?”

“It’s everything. Laptops, smart phones. Tablets. Nothing works here. There’s phone service and electricity,” said Gamache. “But it’s all landlines.”

“No Internet?”

“Dial-up. Not even cable. Not worth it for the companies to try to get through that.”

Gamache pointed and Jérôme looked beyond the small circle of light that was Three Pines. Into the darkness.

The mountains. The forest. The impenetrable woods.

That was the glory of this place, Jérôme realized. From a telecommunications point of view, from a satellite’s point of view, this would be complete darkness.

“A dead zone,” said Jérôme, returning his eyes to Gamache.

The Chief tossed the ball again, and again Henri bounded into the snow bank, only his furiously wagging tail visible.

“Extraordinaire,” said Jérôme. He’d started walking again, but now he looked down, concentrating on his feet. Walking and thinking.

Finally he stopped.

“They can’t trace us. They can’t find us. They can’t see us and they can’t hear us.”

There was no need for Jérôme to explain who “they” were.

Gamache nodded toward the bistro. “Would you like a nightcap?”

“Are you kidding, I’d like the entire outfit.” Jérôme rolled quickly toward the bistro, as though Three Pines had suddenly tilted. Gamache was delayed by a minute or two when he noticed that Henri was still bottom up in the snow drift.

“Honestly,” said Armand when Henri popped his head out, covered in snow. But without the ball. Gamache dug down with his hands and finally found it. Then he made a snowball and tossed it into the air, watching as Henri jumped, grabbed it, bit down and was, yet again, surprised when it disappeared in his mouth.

No learning curve at all, marveled Gamache. But he realized Henri already knew all he’d ever need. He knew he was loved. And he knew how to love.

“Come along,” he said, handing the tennis ball to Henri and clipping him back on his leash.

Jérôme had secured seats in the far corner, away from the other patrons. Gamache greeted and thanked a few of the villagers, whom he knew had helped get Emilie’s home ready for them, then he took the armchair beside Jérôme.

Olivier showed up almost immediately to wipe the table and take their order.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

“My wife and I are deeply grateful to you, monsieur,” said Jérôme, solemnly. “I understand you were the one who arranged for us to stay here.”

“We all helped,” said Olivier. But he looked pleased.

“I was hoping to see Myrna.” Gamache looked around.

“You just missed her. She had dinner with Dominique but left a few minutes ago. Want me to call her?”

“Non, merci,” said the Chief. “Ce n’est pas nécessaire.”

Gamache and Jérôme ordered, then the Chief excused himself and returned a few minutes later to find cognacs on their table.

Jérôme looked content, but thoughtful.

“Something troubling you?” asked the Chief, as he warmed his glass between his hands.

The older man took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Do you know, Armand, I can’t remember