All the Devils Are Here(91)

Daniel’s mouth dropped open. He understood why his mother wasn’t worried about them being crammed into the suite. The space, even by Stephen’s standards, was insane.

But even more striking than the suite was the officer at the door. He looked grim and held a machine gun.

He remembered the look on his father’s face, in the garden that morning.

In his outrage, he’d interpreted it as his father being afraid that Daniel knew the truth about his being a member of Task Force Two. And would tell the cops.

Now he understood that his father wasn’t afraid of him. He was afraid for him.

Leaving his family behind to explore the hotel, Daniel got into a taxi.

“Thirty-six, quai des Orfèvres, s’il vous pla?t.”

“Are you sure this is smart?” asked Xavier Loiselle.

La Défense loomed up ahead, like its own great kingdom.

“It’s so stupid, it’s probably brilliant,” said Séverine Arbour. “Or it’s so brilliant, it’s stupid.”

“That gets my vote,” said Loiselle.

They’d taken the métro to the familiar stop. Once they exited the station, Loiselle dropped back and pretended to be tailing them.

Beauvoir and Arbour signed in and showed their IDs. There was a tense moment when the guard double-checked.

Had SecurForte twigged to what was really happening? Maybe Loiselle had turned them in after all, or—

Just as Beauvoir’s mind sped through the possibilities, none of them good, they were waved through.

Beauvoir and Arbour got off the elevator at their floor, then took the stairs two flights up to Carole Gossette’s office.

“We probably don’t have much time,” said Beauvoir.

He tried Gossette’s office door, but it was locked. Then he nodded toward the assistant’s desk.

He and Arbour started pulling out drawers. Looking for a document. A file. A note. Anything that might tell them what was in the water sample from the mine.

He sat at her desktop and tried various codes to get in.

“So, here you are.”

Beauvoir looked up. Standing at the door was Xavier Loiselle, and beside him was a man in his mid-forties.

He was fit. His arms hung loosely out from his sides, like an old-time gunslinger. It was the stance of someone prepared, preparing, to act. It wasn’t hard to sense aggression in this man.

Beauvoir recognized him. Even though he’d only seen his profile, and that only briefly. But he’d stared at the image long enough to recognize the third person at the table.

The one sitting with Claude Dussault and the head of GHS, drinking tea from fine bone china in the George V.

Beauvoir could feel Séverine Arbour tense. Could hear her ragged breathing.

“Do I know you?” asked Beauvoir.

“I’m the head of security here,” said the man. “Thierry Girard.”

“Jean-Guy Beauvoir, and this is my number two, Séverine Arbour. Can I help you?”

“What’re you doing here?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“This isn’t your office.”

“No. It belongs to Madame Gossette.”

“Then why are you here?”

Beauvoir’s brows lowered in annoyance. Getting up, he walked around the desk. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“We don’t like people trying to get into offices that are not theirs.”

“And I don’t like being questioned by a security guard,” said Beauvoir. “I’m senior management here. We haven’t met, but that doesn’t mean you don’t know who I am.”

“Oh, I know, sir. What I don’t know is why you’re here.”

“I’m looking for Madame Gossette. Since you’re so efficient, please check and see if she’s in the building.”

Xavier Loiselle’s eyes had opened wider. Clearly surprised anyone would speak to Thierry Girard like that.

Beauvoir now knew that Loiselle hadn’t sounded the alarm. In fact, he suspected Loiselle had accompanied his boss in order to protect them.

Girard was glaring at Beauvoir.

“Go on,” said Jean-Guy calmly. “We’ll wait.”

They stared at each other until Girard took out his phone, made a call, then put it away.

“Unfortunately, Madame Gossette isn’t in today. Why don’t we show you out.”

As all four stood in the elevator, Beauvoir decided to really push.

He turned to Loiselle.

“I spotted you last night, you know. And you’ve been following me all day. Why is that?”

“You must be mistaken, sir,” said Loiselle.

“Yes. I agree. A mistake has been made.”

*

Commander Fontaine’s office was dreary, like the rest of the famed 36.

Daniel could see why they’d want to leave the rambling old building. It was probably rat-infested. What he couldn’t figure out was why the Prefect had chosen to keep an office here.

He looked at the mishmash of items on display. There were photos of suspects mixed in with what seemed to be family pictures. Holiday shots and crime scenes.

As though this woman’s life and work were so tightly intertwined, she could no longer distinguish between flesh and blood, and her own flesh and blood.