The Nature of the Beast (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #11) - Louise Penny Page 0,108

safe side?” Gamache asked.

“Sometimes, yes.” Rosenblatt stared at the former head of homicide. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought that.”

“And is this the ‘safe side’?” Gamache asked. “We’re half a kilometer from a weapon that could wipe out every major city down the East Coast, never mind Europe.”

Rosenblatt leaned closer to Gamache. “Like it or not, the death of Gerald Bull meant Project Babylon did not end up in the hands of the Iraqis. They’d have won the war. They’d have taken over the whole region. They’d have wiped out Israel and anyone else who stood up to them. In a dangerous world, Monsieur Gamache, this is the safe side.”

“If this is so safe,” said Gamache, “why are you so afraid?”

CHAPTER 32

Clara confided her suspicions to Myrna.

As she spoke she became more convinced. Sometimes, on saying things out loud, especially to Myrna, Clara could see how ludicrous they were.

But not this time. This time they jelled.

“What should I do?” asked Clara.

“You know what you have to do.”

“I hate it when you say that,” said Clara, sipping her white wine.

Across from her Myrna smiled, but it was fleeting, unable to penetrate beyond what Clara had just told her.

They hadn’t noticed the two men in the dark corner until one of them got up.

Clara nodded to Professor Rosenblatt as he walked by their table. He didn’t stop but continued to, and out, the door. Then they turned their attention to the person left behind.

Armand was either staring after the scientist or into space. He seemed to make up his mind. Getting up, he walked to the bar, and placed a phone call, turning his back to the room as he spoke. Then he returned to the table, wedged snug into the corner.

Clara got up, followed by Myrna, and slipped into seats on either side of him.

“I think I’ve found something interesting,” said Clara. “But I’m not sure.”

“She’s sure,” said Myrna.

“Tell me,” said Armand, turning his full and considerable attention to her.

* * *

“Take a seat.” Isabelle Lacoste indicated the conference table in the Incident Room. Mary Fraser and Sean Delorme joined Inspector Beauvoir, who was already there.

“Project Babylon wasn’t one missile launcher,” said Beauvoir without preamble. “It was two. Why didn’t you tell us this before?”

Gamache had called them from the bistro after Professor Rosenblatt confirmed there were two guns, christened with the unlikely names Baby Babylon and Big Babylon.

Mary Fraser was perfectly contained, in her drab way. Isabelle Lacoste had the impression that the middle-aged woman should have a ball of knitting in her lap like some benign presence, there to calm and soothe infants who were acting out.

“Is it?” asked Mary Fraser.

Isabelle Lacoste leaned slightly forward and, lowering her voice, she said, “Highwater.”

It was like throwing a boulder into a small pond. Everything changed.

“But Baby Babylon didn’t work—” said Mary Fraser.

“Mary,” Sean Delorme interrupted.

“They already know, Sean.”

Now it was his turn to stare at his colleague. “You knew they’d found out about Highwater and you didn’t tell me?”

“I forgot.”

“That’s not possible,” he said, examining her.

“This isn’t the time to discuss it.”

Her words mirrored their exchange when they’d first arrived in Three Pines. Their little tiff over driving. Then it had been almost endearing, now it was chilling. And by the look on Sean Delorme’s face, he felt it too. With one more quick glance at his partner, he turned back to the Sûreté investigators.

“Have you been there?”

“Up the hill, following the tracks?” said Beauvoir.

Delorme shifted in his chair, took a breath, and nodded.

Mary Fraser, however, sat absolutely still, composed. Frozen.

“We knew about the one in Highwater, but not the other,” she admitted.

“You went there,” said Lacoste.

“Yes. To confirm that the pieces were still there and hadn’t also been made to work. But I admit, Big Babylon came as a genuine shock.”

Neither Lacoste nor Beauvoir were swallowing this whole. There was very little “genuine” about these two.

“Why didn’t you tell us about Highwater?” said Lacoste.

“That a giant gun had been built, with our knowledge, on the border with the U.S. thirty-five years ago?” asked Mary Fraser. “Not exactly dinner table conversation.”

“This isn’t a dinner table,” Lacoste snapped. “This is a murder investigation. Multiple murders, and you had valuable information.”

“We had nothing,” said Mary Fraser. “How does it help find your killer to know about a long-abandoned and failed experiment?”

Jean-Guy reached into the evidence box and brought out the pen set and the bookends and placed them on the table in front of him, then, without a word, Isabelle Lacoste picked them