The Nature of the Beast (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #11) - Louise Penny Page 0,140

I have Fleming.”

“Take him back,” yelled Lacoste. “We have the plans. Take him back.”

All they heard now was the shriek. And then it descended into a growl.

Some rough beast.

“Adam?” Gamache leaned into the phone, shouting, “Can you hear me?”

And then …

“I hear you, Monsieur Gamache,” shouted Adam Cohen. “He’s going back.”

CHAPTER 42

“What’ll happen to the Supergun?” Reine-Marie asked. “Now that the plans are gone.”

They were gathered in the bistro, the Gamaches, Lacoste, Jean-Guy, Clara, Myrna, Brian, Ruth and Monsieur Béliveau. Professor Rosenblatt was sitting in a comfortable armchair, nursing a large cognac.

Olivier had locked the door, apologizing to his other patrons, “Désolé, but this is a private gathering.”

The sun had long ago set, the night had drawn in. They sat around the fireplace, their faces lit by the glow.

“It’ll be taken apart, and taken away,” said Chief Inspector Lacoste.

“To be reassembled somewhere else?” Monsieur Béliveau asked.

“Maybe,” said Gamache. “But with the plans gone, well, they’ll have quite a time of it. And unfortunately the firing mechanism seems to be missing again.”

Beauvoir and Lacoste looked at him, then looked away.

“The firing mechanism’s missing?” asked Brian. “Where’d it go?”

“I have no idea,” said Armand with a smile.

“Mary Fraser and Sean Delorme,” said Myrna. “They aren’t CSIS?”

“I don’t know who they are,” said Lacoste.

“Well, I’m sure they won’t get far,” said Clara.

“What do you mean?” asked Lacoste.

“Well, you’re going after them, aren’t you?”

“For what?”

Clara looked dumbfounded. “Well, for threatening to kill the professor and Armand and Jean-Guy, for starters.”

“Delorme pulled a gun on us, yes,” said Armand. “But stood down. No one was hurt. Beyond that they did nothing wrong.”

“Isn’t that enough?” asked Gabri.

“We have to choose our battles,” said Beauvoir. “And if there’s a trial, we’d have to explain about Bull and the plans—”

“And why you burned them,” said Gamache. He knew why Beauvoir had dropped them in the fire. It was a father’s instinct. Jean-Guy would rather die than have his child born into a world that contained Gerald Bull’s monstrosity.

“It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, letting them go,” said Professor Rosenblatt.

“It’s a dangerous world,” said Armand. “Even nine-year-old boys know that.”

“But, but—” Clara sputtered.

“But they killed Antoinette,” said Brian. “And Laurent. They must have. They all but admitted it by threatening to kill you too, for those goddamned plans.”

He waved toward the fireplace, where the plans were no longer even ash. Project Babylon had disappeared into the atmosphere.

“But how did Mary Fraser and Delorme know Laurent had found the gun?” Gabri asked. “They weren’t here. Someone must’ve told them.”

“That’s true,” said Brian. “They were in Ottawa. Someone here must’ve called and told them about Laurent. That must be why it was a day between when Laurent found the gun and when he was killed. They had to drive down and find the boy.”

“Yes, that was our thinking,” said Lacoste.

“Was?” asked Reine-Marie.

“The murders got all complicated by the gun itself,” said Lacoste. “And when Antoinette was killed and we found out about her uncle’s connection to Gerald Bull and Project Babylon, the case took on a whole other aspect. But I was trained that, at its heart, murder is always human and often simple.”

She looked at Gamache, who nodded acknowledgment.

“While you were reading the play this afternoon, I was going back over the case. It started here, as you said, when Laurent came running in.”

She pointed to the door, and they saw again the boy, covered in dirt and pieces of bark and lichen. He was shouting about his find, opening his skinny arms wide, straining to capture the enormity of his find.

A huge gun. In the woods. With a monster on it.

Had it been any other child, had it been an adult, they might have listened.

But it was Laurent Lepage. A boy who slew dragons and rode Pegasus, and fought back invading armies to protect the village.

And did it again the next day. A new day, a new adventure, a new story of great danger and ever greater heroics.

It had been funny, when he was six. By seven it was tiresome. By eight it was annoying. By nine it was too much. But it was in his nature, as his father said, and Laurent would not be stopped.

“No one believed him,” said Lacoste. “Or so it seemed. But there was one person here that afternoon who did believe him. Who knew it could be true. He followed him the next day, knowing Laurent would probably return to the gun, which he did. Partly to see the thing again, but also