All the Devils Are Here (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #16) - Louise Penny Page 0,41
was at about this point, as Gamache warned his people, that many investigations went over a cliff.
“You say that when you changed the subject, Madame Arbour got upset?”
“A bit, yes,” said Beauvoir.
“Did you tell Stephen this?”
Beauvoir thought. “No. You think there’s something in it?”
“I think it would be helpful to get a copy of the engineering report on that funicular.”
“But Stephen didn’t have the report with him. If he was going to expose something, don’t you think he’d take it to the GHS meeting?”
“Maybe he hid it. Maybe that’s what the intruder was trying to find. Not just the report, but the proof something was wrong.”
“True. I’ll see what I can do. Might slip into work later today. But it would mean missing the autopsy.”
“A shame.”
“Oui.”
“But even if I find it, I’m not sure the engineering report will be helpful,” said Jean-Guy. “I still can’t understand them.”
“Then we’ll find someone who can.”
Beauvoir sat up straighter. His brows drawing together in concentration.
“I told Stephen last night that I was struggling to understand the engineering. He said he did, too.”
“Which means he tried,” said Gamache. “Maybe even the funicular report.”
“Yes. He also said that he found it helpful to read the emails between the engineers and home base.”
“Home base being Paris. Your head office. Can you get those?” Gamache was leaning forward now.
“I can try.” Jean-Guy’s eyes were narrowed, his quick mind going through the options. And the conclusions. “But if there is something wrong with the design of the funicular, and Séverine Arbour saw it, wouldn’t she tell me? Why bring the Luxembourg report to my attention but then not say anything?”
“Maybe she was going to, but you changed the subject. Maybe that’s why she was annoyed.”
“God, that might be true,” said Beauvoir. “But still, if it was a serious flaw, you’d think she’d set aside her feelings and insist on telling me.”
Gamache sat back and took his glasses off as he, too, tried to see the answer. “Madame Arbour’s an engineer, right?”
“Yes. Carole Gossette, the head of operations, says she’s a very good one.”
“Interesting, then, that she should be put in a department meant to police the others.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Beauvoir.
“So, she’s either there to help find problems,” said Gamache. “Or to cover them up.”
“Jesus. She brought me the Luxembourg report not to tell me about the flaw,” said Beauvoir, his eyes widening. “She wanted to test me, to make sure I hadn’t seen it.”
“I think it’s possible. With the board meeting so close, and your connection to Stephen known, they might’ve wanted to see how much you knew.”
“To add my name to the hit list?” Jean-Guy asked. “Fuck me. How many people were they willing to kill?”
“How many people have already died?” asked Gamache. “A flaw in an engineering design, in an elevator for example, could kill hundreds before it’s stopped.”
“How sick do you need to be to cover up something that could kill hundreds, maybe thousands?”
Gamache looked at him.
It happened more often than he cared to admit. But couldn’t deny.
Airlines. Car manufacturers. Pharmaceuticals. Chemical companies. The entire tobacco industry.
Companies knew. Governments knew. Even so-called watchdogs knew. And remained silent. And got rich.
While hundreds, thousands, millions died. Were killed.
The Great Murders.
It had been, and still was, Gamache’s job to find those responsible, and stop them. Jean-Guy, as Gamache’s second-in-command, had followed him into that cesspool.
And while Jean-Guy Beauvoir had left, he hadn’t actually escaped. The sludge had followed him. Found him. In Paris. He was in it again, this time up to his neck, it seemed.
Beauvoir considered. Was Séverine Arbour that ambitious? That sick?
The former homicide investigator knew that the desire for power and money could infect. Could fester. Could hollow out a person.
How many bright young executives, fresh off an MBA, or a P.Eng., dreamed of mass murder? None. No, that sort of sickness took time and a certain environment.
Was GHS just such an environment?
Is that why Stephen had placed him there? He knew Jean-Guy Beauvoir could not read an engineering schematic, but he could read people.
Was GHS corrupt?
He’d have to admit, he didn’t think so. But he also knew his energies had been put into getting up to speed with the job. And in thinking about the imminent arrival of their daughter.
And, yes, maybe he’d been dazzled by the private jets, the luxury hotels, the exotic locations. Blinded to what was really going on.
“You say the new design is going into elevators around the world,” Gamache broke into his thoughts. “Office buildings, apartments?”