How the Light Gets In
* * *
“Now we take a break,” said Gamache, getting up. His muscles were sore and he realized he’d been tensing them for hours.
“But they’ll be searching for us even harder now,” said Nichol.
“Let them. You need a break. Go for a walk, clear your head.”
Both Nichol and Jérôme looked unconvinced. Gamache glanced at Gilles, then back at them.
“You’re forcing me to do something I don’t want to do. Gilles here teaches yoga in his spare time. If you’re not up and headed for the door in thirty seconds, I’ll order you to take a class from him. His downward dog is spectacular, I hear.”
Gilles stood up, stretched, and walked forward.
“I could use some chakra work,” he admitted.
Jérôme and Nichol got up and made for their parkas and the door. Gilles joined Gamache by the woodstove.
“Thanks for playing along,” the Chief said.
“What ‘playing along’? I actually teach a yoga class. Want to see?”
Gilles stood on one foot and slowly moved his other leg around, lifting his arms.
Gamache raised his brows and approached Thérèse, who was also watching.
“I’m waiting for the downward dog,” she confided as she put on her coat. “You coming?”
“No. I’d like to read some more.”
Superintendent Brunel followed his gaze to the terminals.
“Be careful, Armand.”
He smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll try not to spill coffee into it. I just want to go back over some of what Jérôme found.”
She left, taking Henri with her, while Gamache pulled his chair up to the computer and started reading. Ten minutes later Gamache felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Jérôme.
“Can I get in?”
“You’re back.”
“We’ve been back for a few minutes, but didn’t want to disturb you. Find anything?”
“Why did they erase that file, Jérôme? Not Aqueduct, though that’s an interesting question too. But the first one you found. The construction schedule on the highway. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe they’re just erasing everything we looked at,” suggested Nichol.
“Why would they take the time to do that?” asked Thérèse.
Nichol shrugged. “Dunno.”
“You need to go back in,” Jérôme said to Nichol. “How close did they get to you? Did they get your address?”
“The school in Baie-des-Chaleurs?” Nichol asked. “I don’t think so, but I should change it anyway. There’s a zoo in Granby with a big archive. I’ll use that.”
“Bon,” said the Chief Inspector. “Ready?”
“Ready,” said Jérôme.
Nichol turned her attention to her terminal, and Gamache turned to Superintendent Brunel.
“I think that first file was important,” he said. “Maybe even vital, and when Jérôme found it, they panicked.”
“But it doesn’t make sense,” said Superintendent Brunel. “I know the mandate of the Sûreté. So do you. We patrol the roads and bridges, even the federal ones. But we don’t repair them. There’s no reason for a repair dossier to be in Sûreté files, and certainly not hidden.”
“And that makes it all the more likely the file had nothing to do with official, sanctioned Sûreté business.” Gamache had her attention now. “What happens when an autoroute needs to be repaired?”
“It goes to tender, I expect,” said Thérèse.
“And then what?”
“Companies bid,” said Thérèse. “Where’re you going with this, Armand?”
“You’re right,” said Gamache. “The Sûreté doesn’t repair roads, but it does do investigations into, among other things, bid rigging.”
The two senior Sûreté officers looked at each other.
The Sûreté du Québec investigated corruption. And there was no bigger target than the construction industry.
Just about every department of the Sûreté had been involved in investigating the Québec construction industry at one time or another. From allegations of kickbacks to bid rigging to organized crime involvement, from intimidation to homicide. Gamache himself had led investigations into the disappearance and presumed murder of a senior union official and a construction executive.