All the Devils Are Here (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #16) - Louise Penny Page 0,120

Terror took place?” Dussault looked at his companion. “But of course you do. You’re a student of history. You’d know that Madame La Guillotine stood right on this spot. Louis the Sixteenth. Marie Antoinette. So many others lost their lives. Right here.” He looked at the people laughing and taking selfies. “Do you think they know? Do you think they care?”

Dussault turned to face him. “You’re a smart man, but like them, I don’t think you have any idea what you’re close to.”

“Oh, I have some idea.” He stared at Dussault with undisguised disgust. “I saw the security video. You tried to have it erased, but they missed some. You were in the George V Friday afternoon, with Thierry Girard. You met with Eugénie Roquebrune. You’re running SecurForte, with Girard once again your second-in-command. You ordered the killing of Stephen and Monsieur Plessner. You’re the one who’s behind all this.”

Dussault nodded, resigned. “I’m sorry you found that video. Sloppy.” He tilted his head back, staring at the gold pyramid at the very top of the obelisk. “Did you know the top of the obelisk was stolen in Luxor, in the sixth century B.C.? What’s up there now is fairly recent. People mistake it for original. But—”

“Why are we here?”

“I don’t know why you came. Seems an awful risk. It’s true I took that meeting, but it’s a huge leap of logic to go from my having tea with friends to being guilty of murder, don’t you think? Don’t overreach, Armand. That’s when you fall.”

“Are you denying it?”

“I’m saying you don’t know everything. Far from it. I tried to warn you once, and you didn’t listen. Alexander Plessner is dead and Stephen Horowitz is dying.” Dussault waited, but Armand didn’t argue. “What you’re doing will only make things worse.”

“You forgot Anik Guardiola.”

“You know about her.”

“Yes. So did Stephen.”

“That’s too bad.” Claude Dussault lowered his voice. “You and Reine-Marie need to get your family and leave. Get on a plane and go back to Montréal. For God’s sake, I’m begging you.”

“You know I won’t do that, so stop wasting time.”

“You’re a fool. The only consolation is that it’s probably too late anyway. For you. For your son.”

Armand froze. “Daniel?”

Dussault turned and began walking toward the Seine. But Armand reached out, grabbed his arm, and swung him around.

“What’ve you done?” he demanded. “Where is he?”

“He’s safe.” Dussault held his eyes. “But you know what they can do. And will do. What you don’t know is what they’ve already done. Those three, Plessner, Horowitz, the journalist? They’re not even the tip of the iceberg. You have no idea how powerful these people are. And now, thanks to your godfather, how desperate.”

“Are you threatening to hurt Daniel?” When Dussault didn’t answer, or blink, Armand lowered his voice. “If you touch my son, I’ll bring holy hell down on you.”

“Too late,” said Dussault. “It’s already here. The funny thing about Hell is that we assume it’s obvious. Fire, brimstone. We’ll be plunged into it by some horrific event in our lives. But the truth is, Hell can be as subtle as Heaven.” He looked around. “Sometimes we don’t recognize we’ve wandered into Hell until it’s too late.”

“Where’s Daniel?”

Dussault focused on the man in front of him. “Know this, Armand. I tried to help. If something happens to Daniel, or any member of your family, it won’t be on me. It’ll be your fault.”

“Where’s Daniel?”

“You bumbled in, you and your little group, like some amateur theater troupe putting on a show.” Dussault shook his head. “You think you’re so clever, going to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Going to the basement and whispering about Patagonia. You thought you were moving forward, but that’s an illusion. You don’t even see the truck hurtling toward you. It’s two feet away and you can’t stop it. You and your family are nothing more than bugs on a windshield to these people.”

Gamache grabbed Claude Dussault, lifting him almost off the ground. Bringing the shorter man to eye level. Within millimeters of his face.

“Where’s my son?”

“Put me down.” Dussault’s voice was strangled by his coat. “Or it ends now.”

Gamache’s grip tightened. Then, against every instinct he possessed, his clenched and cramped fingers released the coat.

Dussault had all but admitted there were snipers aimed at him. If he went down, all was lost.

If Daniel was to have a chance, if any of them were, he had to think clearly. Act rationally.

Gamache took several deep breaths and brought the thudding in his chest