All the Devils Are Here (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #16) - Louise Penny Page 0,99

moment to take that in. “Why do you say that?”

“Because Stephen knew art. He’d know immediately if there was even one fake, never mind all of them.”

“Why would he sell them?”

“To quietly raise capital. And a lot of it. He couldn’t cash in hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of stocks or holdings without anyone noticing, but he could discreetly sell his collection. Then he had to have each painting replaced so no one would know.”

Reine-Marie’s mind raced. “Why would he need that money? Was he in financial trouble?”

“No, not at all.”

“Was he being blackmailed? That dossier? Was he paying to have it suppressed?”

Armand shook his head. “That file was found weeks ago. To quietly sell his collection must’ve taken years. Whatever he was doing, it was a long time in the planning.”

“You had Professor de la Coutu come, but it was just to confirm what you already suspected.”

“Yes. And I think I know where most of the money went. When I spoke with Mrs. McGillicuddy this morning, she told me she’d found papers in one of Stephen’s safety-deposit boxes. He’d been siphoning money to Alexander Plessner. And a lot of it.”

“What for?”

“Investments. Those papers were buy orders. Confirmations. It looks like he’d instructed Plessner to slowly accumulate holdings in several companies. But not all at once. The buys were spread over years, in relatively small amounts at a time so that no alarms would be sounded. When Mrs. McGillicuddy added it up, it came to slightly more than a billion dollars.”

“And no one knew it was Stephen?”

Armand shook his head. “This looks like a hostile takeover, done a millimeter at a time. Have you ever seen the game Jenga?”

“Sure. Our nephews have one. You remember last Christmas, they were playing it? It looks like a solid tower but is actually made up of lots of small pieces, like little logs. You pull out one at a time, trying not to have the whole thing collapse.”

“Right. Stephen and Plessner were playing financial Jenga. Pulling out tiny pieces of companies one at a time. He was a wily one.”

Reine-Marie wondered if Armand realized he’d just, for the first time, referred to Stephen in the past tense.

“Which companies?” she asked.

“Mrs. McGillicuddy’s studying the buy orders, but it’s complex and many are numbered companies.”

“He wanted to control them?”

“Or just one. It’s possible the rest are camouflage, misdirection.”

“Is one of them GHS?”

“Non.”

“No,” she said. “That would be worth far more than even Stephen could raise. And the directors would definitely notice a hostile takeover, no matter how subtle. But he could be buying up one or more of the subsidiaries.”

Armand pointed at her. Got it.

That was his thinking, too.

“But why?” And since there was no answer, she asked another question. “Is that why you stopped at home to get the annual report? To see if any of the companies are listed?”

“Yes. But the report doesn’t name any of its holdings.”

“If there are any,” said Reine-Marie.

“Well, we know of at least one. SecurForte. And I suspect there are many more.”

But there was another piece of information he had found out from Mrs. McGillicuddy. He waited for the shouts from the table next to them to reach a crescendo before leaning close to Reine-Marie.

She leaned in.

“Six weeks ago Stephen wired huge amounts into his bank account here in Paris. The funds were frozen, of course, following the anti-money-laundering laws. But they’d be available to him as of tomorrow morning.”

She knew her husband and could see there was more to come. “Go on.”

Armand paused, wishing he didn’t have to actually say it. He studied her eyes. So familiar, he knew every fleck. Had looked into them at all the high, and low, moments of their lives together. As he stared into them now.

“The money’s in the Banque Privée des Affaires.”

Reine-Marie became absolutely, completely still. They were alone now. Far away from the shouts of laughter, the clink of cutlery, the scraping of chairs on marble floors. The murmurs of discreet waiters. Far away from the familiar.

It was just the two of them, in the wilderness.

“Daniel’s bank?” she whispered.

“Oui.”

“So Daniel knew, knows, what they were doing?”

“I don’t think so. I doubt Stephen would’ve told him. There was no reason for Daniel to know. And the less he knew, the better.”

“Why would Stephen involve Daniel at all? If he thought it was dangerous, why in the world would he drag Daniel into it?”

“He wouldn’t. I think at the time, six weeks or so ago, the only danger Stephen probably