Glass Houses (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #13)(110)

He sounded more confident than he actually was. But Chief Superintendent Gamache understood that a leader could not afford to reveal his own emotions. He couldn’t demand courage in others while quaking in fear himself.

“If we didn’t see this coming,” said Beauvoir, “we probably won’t see what’s coming next. They could do the exchange right there, in the bistro. In front of everyone. We’re the ones who convinced them it’d be safe. We did this.”

“He’s right,” said Lacoste, running the water now. “What do I do then? I’d have to arrest them, or try. In a roomful of people.”

Honoré, thought Gamache. Annie. Reine-Marie.

Not just people.

Beauvoir’s foot pressed harder on the gas. The car was going 140 kilometers an hour, and gaining speed. They’d turned off the highway and were on secondary roads. Roads not designed for speed. The car bounded off ruts, flying then bumping to the asphalt.

But Gamache didn’t tell him to slow down. If anything, it was all he could do not to shout at him to hurry up. Speed up.

“Get Ruth to the bistro,” Gamache repeated, his voice low. “And go and join Reine-Marie and Annie. The head of the American cartel probably won’t know who they are, but the Canadian does. They’d never believe we’d put them in harm’s way.”

There was silence.

None of them could believe it either. Especially Gamache.

But there was no choice. To have Isabelle remove Reine-Marie and Annie and Honoré would almost certainly alert the cartel, and they must already be on the lookout for anything unusual.

They might be confident that they were in no danger, but they’d still be vigilant. It was animal instinct. And these people were animals.

“Are you sure?” Lacoste whispered.

From anyone else, in any other circumstances, Gamache might have been annoyed at this questioning of his orders. But he understood her need to be absolutely clear.

“Oui.”

“Okay,” she said. Just before she hung up, he heard one last word. “Merde.”

Merde, he agreed.

But this time it wasn’t the signal that all was going well. It was just merde.

Lacoste hid the handset in her pocket and unlocked the door.

“Désolé,” she said to the older man, who was examining her. “Sorry. That time of the month.”

She put a hand over her uterus and he immediately backed up before she could tell him more. But just to be on the safe side, she mumbled, “Cramps.”

*

As soon as Lacoste had hung up, Gamache called Toussaint and gave her the update. There was a long silence.

“Bon,” she said, her voice crisp. No sign of panic. “What do we do? You want us in the village?”

“No, go to the border, stick to the plan. Whatever happens, the chlorocodide has to cross into the States, and the only thing we know for sure is where it’ll happen. Your informant is watching the church?”

“Yes. We’ll at least know when the drug is being moved. And if they don’t use the established route?” Toussaint asked.

“Then you’ll be in the forest for nothing, and Beauvoir, Lacoste and I will take care of it.”

He said it so calmly, as though he was talking about mending a fence.

There was silence again.

“All actions contain an element of luck,” he reminded her. “Besides, we’re all in. There’s a great advantage in that.”

“Our backs to the sea. Yes, patron. This’ll work, because it has to.” She laughed softly and wished that was actually the equation. “Good luck,” she said, either forgetting to say merde or not wanting that to possibly be the last thing they ever said to each other.

“Oui. Good luck to you, Madeleine.”

*

Matheo and Lea were sitting at a table in the far corner by the time Lacoste returned. Away from the others. But close to the two Americans.

She carefully replaced the phone, making sure no one saw, and went into the kitchen to say hello to Anton. And to warn him.

“Bonjour,” he said, greeting her. “I’d have thought you’d be in the city.”

“I was, but wanted to get away just for a few hours. Too hot. I’m not the only one.”

“I bet,” he said, going back to work, then looking up when she didn’t speak.

“Matheo and Lea are here,” she said. “And maybe Patrick, though I haven’t seen him.”

Anton put down his knife and looked at her. “Why?”

“I don’t know, but I thought you should be warned.”

That wasn’t completely true. Isabelle Lacoste had a pretty good idea why Matheo and Lea were in the bistro and she didn’t want Anton to get involved.

“Merci.” He looked grim and took a deep breath. “I have to testify in a few days. I’ve been dreading it. I hear they’ve been rough on Monsieur Gamache.”

“Well, they always are.”

“Even the Crown attorney and the judge? Aren’t they on the same side?”

“Trials are funny things,” she said. Trying to make what had happened in the courtroom sound normal. “It’s my turn tomorrow.”

“Where’re they sitting?” asked Anton. “So I can avoid them.”