All the Devils Are Here(40)

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?”

“Everything, yes.”

“When?”

“Next week.” Beauvoir blanched. “Oh, God, it is possible, isn’t it? It could be GHS’s finances, but it could also be the design. Oh, merde.”

They looked at each other.

Elevators. They were where both men’s fears intersected.

Heights for Gamache. Tight spaces for Beauvoir.

The thought of being stuck in a malfunctioning elevator, many stories up, made them both light-headed. The thought of it, of hundreds, thousands, plummeting, made them sick.

Gamache took a long, slow, deep breath. “We need those plans.”

“I’ll get them. You think maybe what Stephen found wasn’t a financial swindle, but some engineering flaw?”

“Maybe. But if he did, I doubt he’d bring it up at the board.”

“Why not?”

“If he somehow came across a serious flaw in a design, he’d go straight to the head of the company. He’d want to tell someone who could stop the projects and have the flaw fixed. Who’s the head of GHS?”

“Eugénie Roquebrune. Should I try to get a meeting?”

“Non, not yet. We need more information. If she’s behind the cover-up, she’ll deny it, and without hard evidence we’re just exposing ourselves.”