All the Devils Are Here (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #16) - Louise Penny Page 0,107

for him.

“Entendu,” said the flic, and tightened his grip on his automatic rifle. “Je comprends.”

“You’d better understand,” said Jean-Guy as Armand and Reine-Marie, Daniel and Séverine Arbour waited by the elevator. “And you tell no one we’ve left.”

“Oui. I mean, non.”

The ferocity of Jean-Guy’s tone and expression had thrown the cop off a bit.

Once in the elevator, Reine-Marie said quietly to Armand, “You’re not really going to meet him, are you?”

He took her hand and squeezed. “We’ll talk.”

But she had her answer.

Jean-Guy stood in silence, watching the numbers drop. With each floor they passed, there was a chime, meant to be cheerful, but all it did was rattle him further.

“You okay?” Armand asked as they sped past the main floor. And kept going.

“Oui.”

Past the basement. Past the subbasement. And as they dropped, so did the color from Jean-Guy’s face.

“You can go back up, if you like.”

“Non.”

When it could go no deeper, the elevator stopped.

They stepped out, and Armand took an envelope from his pocket and removed a slip of paper and a key.

Unlocking a door, he led them down a dim corridor, pausing once to consult the hand-drawn map. Then he headed this way, then that.

Both sweaty and ice-cold, Jean-Guy followed. Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears.

A fine time, he thought, to remember that quote. But he finally understood what it meant.

Pipes hissed, as though serpents were passing overhead. The walls clanked and groaned.

Finally, Armand stopped in front of a metal door. Consulting the map again, he unlocked it.

When the lights came on, they could see stacks of broken equipment. Vacuum cleaners, trollies, crates.

“How did you know?” Reine-Marie whispered.

Closing the door and locking it, he held up the key and spoke in a normal voice. “Madame Béland.”

“The General Manager?” asked Reine-Marie.

“Oui. The waiter gave it to me when she brought up the food.”

“How did she know you wanted it?” Madame Arbour asked.

“I sent a message down with the concierge—”

“That was the envelope you gave him?” asked Reine-Marie.

“Oui. I asked for the use of a room in the lowest level, where there were no cameras. I knew we’d eventually need a place where we couldn’t be overheard. Or seen.”

Daniel stared at this man, this stranger. Who thought so many steps ahead. Who found a corner of order in chaos.

Was this really the same man who made scrambled eggs in his bathrobe on Sunday mornings?

“Why didn’t we come down sooner?” Daniel asked as they pulled crates into a circle.

“Because we wanted them to overhear,” said Jean-Guy.

“You knew about the key?” asked Daniel. “The plan to come here?”

“No, but I trust your father.”

Daniel stared at Jean-Guy in open and undisguised amazement. Even as his heart sank.

What this man and his father had went so far beyond the bounds of camaraderie and friendship. Beyond even blood.

Daniel now knew he could never, ever compete. Once, maybe, but not now. It was far too late.

He’d ceded his place to Jean-Guy Beauvoir.

“Since they were listening anyway,” said Armand, “it made sense to have it work in our favor. Tell them only what we wanted them to hear—”

“—and not tell them everything we know,” said Jean-Guy. “Let them think we’re further behind than we are.”

“Loiselle,” said Madame Arbour. “You didn’t tell them the truth. I was wondering.”

“Thank you for not saying anything,” said Jean-Guy.

“Look, I’m just trying to keep my head above water,” she said. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

Armand, from his crate across the circle, wondered if that was true. Another advantage of being down there was that, while no message could get in, neither could messages be sent out.

They were isolated. Which was good.

But they were also trapped. Which was not.

“What’s this about Loiselle?” he asked, but before Jean-Guy could answer, Reine-Marie touched his arm.

“If the GHS meeting is tomorrow morning, wouldn’t the board members be in Paris already?”

“Yes, probably. Why?”

“Where would they stay? Most don’t live here.”

Armand looked at his wife in wonderment. How had he missed that?

“A hotel,” he said.

“A luxury hotel,” she said.

Jean-Guy’s eyes opened wide. “Is that why Stephen decided to stay in the George V instead of the Lutetia or another place? He knew that this’s where the board members are being put up.”

“I bet Stephen arranged to meet that board member here,” said Daniel. “To finalize his deal to buy the shares.”

“When we leave, I need to speak to the General Manager,” said Armand.

“I can go up right now and ask,” Jean-Guy volunteered.

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Armand, then narrowed his eyes. “You will come back?”

“Maybe.” But

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