The Nature of the Beast (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #11) - Louise Penny Page 0,38
in a long, long exhale, at the tail end of which were two words, barely audible.
“He didn’t.”
And then Professor Rosenblatt dropped his briefcase.
CHAPTER 12
“My God,” Rosenblatt whispered.
But he didn’t seem to Gamache, who stood beside the elderly professor, like a man who’d seen his God. Just the opposite.
“Can I go closer? Am I allowed to touch it?”
“Yes. But be careful,” said Lacoste.
He handed his briefcase, no longer all that important, to Gamache and approached the gun. Slowly, carefully. His hands out in front of him, as though worried he might scare it off.
“The main thing we need to know from you, Professor,” said Lacoste, as they followed him, “is whether it can be fired. We’d need to disable it.”
“Yes,” said Rosenblatt, in a dream state.
He walked up to the etching, and stopped. Considering the monster. Then he laid his palms flat on it. Feeling the cold metal. Almost expecting to feel a pulse.
He leaned into it, and Gamache thought he heard a whisper, but couldn’t make out the words.
Then Professor Rosenblatt stepped back. And back again. And another step. Craning his neck, dropping his head back until it could go no further. His mouth open, his eyes wide, he tried to take in the magnitude of what he was seeing. Not simply the size of the weapon, but the very fact of it.
He turned his head to look along the barrel as it disappeared into the darkness. Not even the floodlights could reach to the end.
Gamache watched as the professor closed his eyes, took a couple of deep breaths, then with one last exhale he turned to his companions.
“I need to find the firing chamber, to see if it’s armed.”
He was all business now.
“It’ll be around here,” he said, walking to the rear of the gun. “Did you open this?”
He pointed to a round metal door, large enough to walk into.
“We tried, but couldn’t make it open,” said Lacoste. “We stopped, afraid we might inadvertently fire it.”
Professor Rosenblatt was nodding. “You wouldn’t have. The firing mechanism is somewhere else. This is the breech. If there’s a missile, it would be in here.”
They watched as the professor ran his hands over the latches and handles and knobs.
“Careful,” warned Beauvoir, but Rosenblatt didn’t respond. He was too focused on the mechanism.
“Do we know for sure he knows what he’s doing?” Lacoste asked Beauvoir.
Before Beauvoir could answer, they saw the professor reach out and grasp a lever. Leaning into it, the elderly man pulled but nothing happened.
“I need help,” he said. “It’s stuck.”
Beauvoir joined him, and between them they pulled and pulled until it gave with such suddenness both men leapt back.
There was a whirring, grinding sound, then a loud hiss.
Gamache tensed. Afraid Rosenblatt had just set it off, but not at all sure what to do if he had.
Then the massive door swung open, like a mouth. Like a maw. Inviting them in.
The four of them stared. Gamache could hear heavy breathing and knew it came from Jean-Guy. Not because the effort had winded him, but because he was staring into his nightmare.
While Gamache was afraid of heights, Beauvoir was terrified of holes. Armand stepped over to him.
“Stay here,” he said. “If the door closes, please open it again.”
Beauvoir didn’t answer, but continued to stare.
“Do you need to write that down?” asked Gamache.
“Huh? Pardon?” said Jean-Guy, coming out of his reverie. “Right. Wait, are you going in there?”
He waved to the opening, where Professor Rosenblatt was already standing.
“I am. And if we need to climb up on the thing?”
“I’ll go,” said Beauvoir, with a smile.
“You’d better.”
Gamache followed Rosenblatt and Lacoste into the chamber.
In the beams of their flashlights, Gamache could see the professor’s face. His eyes. Bright, but not overexcited. He seemed almost calm, in control.
This was his natural environment. The belly of the beast. This was where the little professor belonged.
“Incredible,” Rosenblatt murmured, shaking his head. “No electronics.” He looked back at his companions. “It’s like a Meccano set.”
“But is it armed?” asked Lacoste. She was beginning to get antsy. She’d never suffered from claustrophobia, but then she’d never been crammed into the firing chamber of a giant weapon with two other people before.
“No,” said Rosenblatt, and pointed toward the great long tube stretching out in front of them.
Rosenblatt was studying the wall of the borehole.
“Empty. There’s never even been a missile in here. It’s unmarked.”
Gamache reached out and touched the side. It felt slightly greasy.
“It’s been prepared,” he said.
Rosenblatt looked at him and nodded. “You know guns.”