All the Devils Are Here(114)

Who’d done this? Claude Dussault? Irena Fontaine? Thierry Girard?

Xavier Loiselle?

And why? He looked at the firearm in his hand. What was the purpose?

The water stopped running, and he knew he had moments to decide what to do.

He slipped the gun into his coat pocket and bent over the box once again. Then, he hesitated. And changed his mind.

Walking quickly over to the bookcase, he pulled a few books out of a high shelf and hid the gun there.

When Séverine Arbour reappeared, she found Gamache going through the box.

“What’s that?” she asked, joining him.

“These are the things Stephen had on his desk, and what the hospital gave us after he was hit by the truck. The investigators have kept his laptop and phone, but everything else is here.”

“What’re you looking for?”

She’d been a bit surprised by the apartment. It was smaller than she’d expected. Most powerful people, men in particular, liked homes that reflected what they saw as their place on the ladder. Which was, in reality, a few rungs lower than their egos believed.

This place was petite, beamed, with bookcases and a fireplace. The floors were parquet, in the classic herringbone pattern.

An old oak dining table shared space with a comfortable sofa and armchairs. The kitchen, through an archway, was compact and dated.

But it was calm, peaceful even. It smelled of coffee and wood. And felt like home.

“Neodymium,” he said.

As she watched, he dug into his pocket and dropped a handful of coins into the box.

It was such a bizarre thing to do, for a moment she wondered about his sanity.

But he looked completely, intensely sane.

Stirring the contents with his hand, he picked up the coins along with some screws and the Allen wrench.

“Nothing.”

And she understood. If something in there was made of neodymium, it would pull metal to it. And magnetize what it touched.

He sat back in the chair and stared at her. “So what magnetized the nickels?”

“Nickels?”

“Stephen had two Canadian nickels that were stuck together. We thought they were glued, the seal was that strong, but when I saw that video about neodymium, I realized they might’ve been magnetized.”

“Which would mean your friend had a sample of the neodymium,” she said. “That’s what had magnetized the coins. Is that what you thought was in the box? The neodymium itself?”

“I’d hoped.”

It was now clear that his godfather had had suspicions for years. Had spent the last precious years of his life, and any amount of his fortune, to piece together the evidence. Had brought the engineer and his trusted friend Alexander Plessner in to help.

He’d sold everything he owned, mortgaged his home, gone all in.

But what had he found out? Was it corporate espionage? Was it something to do with neodymium?

They knew, he realized, almost nothing.

He checked his watch.

Quarter to nine. Time he left for the rendezvous.

But he wasn’t armed, with information or anything else. He glanced at the bookcase. Had he just made a fatal error?

But it was done now.

He called Daniel at the bank again. And again, no answer.

“Something wrong?” Séverine Arbour asked.

“No.”

He stared at his phone, then hit the app. Within seconds it showed Daniel’s location.

Armand exhaled.

He was at the bank. Probably with his phone on silent.

“I’m going to meet Commissioner Dussault,” he said.

“Can I go home now?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not.”

“You still don’t trust me? What do I have to do?”

“It’s not that,” he said, though of course it was. “It won’t be safe for you at home. The only safety is in numbers. You need to join the others at the archives. You’ll be fine there.”

“Fucked up, insecure, neurotic, and egotistical?”

When he looked surprised, she explained. “Beauvoir told me about your Québec village. He talks about it a lot. Apparently it’s filled with fine people.”

They’d left the apartment and were walking quickly through the dark streets of the Marais, trying without success to avoid puddles on their way to the archives.

Armand laughed. “They’re certainly fine. And so am I.”

He called Reine-Marie, and when they approached the massive gates, he saw her and Jean-Guy waiting for them on the other side.

He was surprised by the wave of emotion that washed over him. And by the gulf that existed between them, the immeasurable distance between in there and out here.

“Let me come with you,” said Jean-Guy.

“Claude wants to speak to me alone.”

“I can still be there. Watch from a distance.”

“And do what?” asked Armand.

Without being more explicit, they both knew if it came to that, Armand would be dead before he hit the ground, and there’d be nothing Jean-Guy could do except get himself killed.

“Stay here,” said Armand. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”

As he left them for his rendezvous, he felt very alone.





CHAPTER 36