A Better Man (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #15)(30)

“There’re clearly key spots,” the colonel from the Corps of Engineers said, taking up the suggestion and pointing to several rivers. “We can choose a dozen of the most significant tributaries. Maybe here … and here.”

“Oui,” said Gamache, familiar with the terrain. “We don’t have to divert all of them.” He looked up from the map and held Toussaint’s eyes. “And we could get local farmers to help. Use their equipment to dig—”

“We?” she asked, and once again the room grew still. Except for the smile that was spreading across the politician’s face.

“You,” said Armand, straightening up and removing his reading glasses. “This’s your operation, Chief Superintendent. You asked for my help and advice. I’m simply giving it.”

“Thank you.”

“A battle might be won on a single front,” he pressed on. “But a war is won on many. You’re concentrating your forces on the most urgent need. Which makes sense. But you can also get out in front of the crisis. Though it is a risk.”

“Not just a risk, Gamache,” said the Deputy Premier. “It’s reckless.”

While the others watched, Gamache raised his head and turned to the politician.

“This would be a calculated risk, monsieur.” His voice formal, freezing. Those listening were surprised the words didn’t come out in an icy vapor. “There’s more risk in paralysis. In reckless indecision.”

“You think so? Maybe we should ask those under your command who were wounded and killed because of your so-called calculated risks. You shouldn’t even be here. You should be at home, or guarding some Walmart. Or in prison.”

No one spoke, no one breathed. Eyes opened wide. Even Madeleine Toussaint was shocked by the vitriol.

“Chief Superintendent Gamache did—” she began, but a look from the politician silenced her.

“When your committee offered me the chance to return as head of homicide, sir,” said Gamache, glaring at the Deputy Premier, “you must’ve known there was a risk that I’d take it.”

At least two in the room snorted in amusement. Or it might have been amazement.

“We never thought you’d be that desperate. Or that stupid,” said the politician.

“Well, you took your best shot,” said Gamache, with a thin smile. “And yet here I am. Still standing. Right in front of you.”

“You think that was our best shot, Armand?”

There was shocked silence then, until Chief Superintendent Toussaint jumped in.

“I think we hold the course. Keep the equipment at the Hydro dams to prevent a catastrophe and dynamite as it’s necessary down south.”

The Deputy Premier, ignoring her, leaned over the map. “I see in your scenario, Gamache, one of the villages spared would be your own. Don’t you live in some tiny backwater in the townships? I can smell it on you. Smells like shit.”

“Actually, it’s donkey.” He stared at the politician. “What’s your point, Pierre?”

“Oh, Armand, I think you know my point. Once again you would misuse power for your own gain. And…” The Deputy Premier paused and inhaled. “I think what I smell isn’t a donkey. It’s an ass.”

The room bristled.

“You’re right,” said Gamache. “One of the places in the path of the flooding is mine. A small village, insignificant by your standards, called Three Pines. No one’s ever heard of it, and if it disappeared in the deluge, I suspect it wouldn’t be missed. But it would still be a tragedy. As it would for all the other towns and villages you’re ignoring.”

“Thank you for coming, Chief Inspector.” Toussaint put out her hand. “We’ll take it from here. I’ll let you get back to your own work now.”

They stared at each other. The former occupant and the current occupant of the highest office in the S?reté.

He was dismissed.

He found himself unceremoniously on the other side of the door as it closed.

Armand Gamache had been put in his place.

When he walked into Beauvoir’s office to get his coat and boots and dog, Jean-Guy stood up at the desk. Isabelle Lacoste was also there.

“Interviews over?” Gamache asked.

“Interviews canceled,” she said. “Because of the emergency.”

“Meeting over?” asked Beauvoir.

“Not yet. I gave my opinion, and we’ll see. There’re smart people in there.”

“So why’re you out here?” asked Beauvoir.

“I guess I’m not so smart,” said Gamache with a smile.

“I’m sorry,” said Lacoste. “They shouldn’t—”

“It’s all right,” Gamache assured her. Then noticed that Jean-Guy’s suit, his papers, his chair, and the ceiling had little brown dots all over them.

“Your dog shook,” explained Beauvoir.

“Oh, dear.”

“Yes. That’s pretty much what I said as I washed myself off and scraped down my desk. Gosh, I said. Bit of a mess.” His eyes widened in a crazed look, and Lacoste laughed.

“By the way, do you mind my asking why you have a dog?”

“He belongs to the missing woman.”