A Better Man (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #15)(28)

If, if, if …

There was silence in the room while they replayed the animation in their heads, if the ifs didn’t happen.

“But even if they hold,” the meteorologist continued, “what we’re looking at is a catastrophic combination of record snowfall through the winter, record cold creating thick ice, a flash thaw and freeze-up, and now heavy rains. So that the melt is pouring into the rivers before the ground has thawed and the ice has left. Backing everything up.”

“Right,” said the Deputy Premier. “We can see that. The question is, what do we do about it?”

“There’re emergency measures—”

“Yes, yes,” he said. “I know that. That’s how we’re responding. I want to know how to stop this. Or at least lessen the impact. What can we do?”

His voice wasn’t just urgent, it was tinged with panic and some petulance. A child who suspects he won’t be getting what he wants.

Silence met his pleas.

Gamache had put on his reading glasses and now glanced over at the chief meteorologist. He’d had many meetings with her, in this very room. Leaning over ordnance maps.

But never had he heard the dry, precise, careful scientist use that word.

Catastrophic.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“It’s our worst fear realized,” said the meteorologist, her voice weak with exhaustion. Her shoulders sagged. “What wakes any forecaster in the small hours. All that most maddens and torments.”

“What’re you talking about?” demanded the politician. “Was that some quote? Have you lost your mind?”

Gamache recognized the quote, though he couldn’t quite place where it was from.

“Maybe,” said the meteorologist, rubbing her face. “I’ve been up for two days solid running simulations. I do feel as though my brain is caked.”

“You wanted to say something, Chief Inspector?” Once again Toussaint emphasized his rank.

He’d removed his glasses and was looking at her intently.

But she’d also been watching him. From the moment he arrived, she’d been waiting for Gamache to take over.

But instead he’d held off. Deferring to her.

It appeared respectful, but now she wondered if he had another reason. Did he see, even before she did, that whoever was in charge would be blamed?

Madeleine Toussaint was beginning to appreciate her mistake. And the near-impossible position she found herself in. If she took charge, she’d be blamed if her ideas failed. If she let Gamache take over, all her authority would disappear.

She’d invited him to the meeting partly for his expertise, but she’d also seen her chance to make a point in front of the other senior officials.

There was a new sheriff in town. The old one was weakened, diminished. Demoted.

She hadn’t counted on the fact that the others in the room would naturally turn to him. Out of habit, perhaps. Or because he still commanded their respect.

Except for the Deputy Premier, of course. Who despised the man.

Nor had she counted on the fact Gamache would voluntarily hand the lead to her. In an act of apparent humility.

Toussaint hadn’t seen her former boss in months, but now, seeing him again, she felt some shame at doing this to him. But mostly she felt annoyance. That he didn’t seem to notice he’d been diminished.

Gamache tapped the map with his glasses, then looked at her. “We might have less time than you think.”

He told them about the ice and the Champlain Bridge.

“How do you know about it?” Toussaint asked.

“Because I looked.”

“How?”

“I got out of the car just now and looked.”

“Over the edge?” she asked. “You stood on the bridge and looked over?”

While Gamache’s fear of heights was not generally known, those who served with him longest knew, or at least suspected, he had that phobia.

“I did.”

“That means the bridges will have to be closed soon,” she said to him. “And roads, I expect.”

Gamache gave the tiniest of nods. Of agreement. And Toussaint felt both gratified and annoyed at herself, for wanting, needing, his approval.

“Demolition teams are on their way to the major trouble spots,” said the head of the Corps of Engineers for the Armed Forces. “Including the Hydro dams, of course. We’ll blow the ice jams, if necessary.”

“Good. Thank you, Colonel,” said Toussaint, regaining control.

“Wait a minute,” said the Deputy Premier. “You’re suggesting setting off explosions all over the province? Can you imagine the panic?”

“I’d rather be panicked than drowned,” said the military officer.

“But can’t we do anything else?” asked the politician.

“Like stop the rain, sir?” asked the chief meteorologist. “I’ve tried. Doesn’t work.”

“I have a thought.” Gamache turned to the Hydro rep. “You talked about the floodgates. Can we do the same thing farther south?”

“There are no dams farther south. No gates to open.”

“I know, but we can dig runoffs, can’t we? It comes to the same thing.”

He looked around for support.