“Into the Traffic division. Serious Crimes. Public Safety. Emergency Response. Cyber Crime.”

He paused, making sure Francoeur was with him, before he delivered the coup-de-grâce.

“The safety of public officials. The team that guards the Premier. You yourself dismantled my department and spread my agents into every division. My agents, Sylvain. Mine. Never yours. I didn’t fight it because it served my purposes. While your plan progressed, so did mine.”

Francoeur went as white as the snow.

“My people have taken over those departments and arrested any agents loyal to you. The Premier’s in our custody, along with his staff. Had we been on water, this would’ve been called a mutiny.

“The announcement that I’d resigned was the signal for my officers to move in. I had to wait until I knew what you had planned, and had proof. There was no response to your phone calls because there was no one there to answer. And those texts you received? About the bridge? About the people picked up? Inspector Lacoste sent them. The bridge has been secured.”

“Impossible.”

Francoeur looked again at the device, just a quick glance down, but it was enough.

Gamache made his move.

*   *   *

Jean-Guy Beauvoir parked behind Gamache’s Volvo. He cracked the window a little, to give Rosa air, then he got out.

He stood on the road, uncertain where to go. He’d thought to head right into Three Pines. He knew now what that equipment was he’d seen in the van. He’d probably known all along. It was explosives. And detonators. And trip wires.

They were attaching the wires to the door of the schoolhouse. When opened, it would detonate.

His plan had been to go into the village, to stop the agents, but the sight of the familiar car left him unsure.

He looked at the ground, at the fresh path into the woods, and he followed it.

*   *   *

Gamache plowed into Francoeur, grabbing for the gun, but it flew from Francoeur’s hand and was buried in the snow.

Both men fell hard. Gamache brought his forearm to Francoeur’s throat, leaning against it, trying to pin Francoeur. Francoeur lashed out, bucking and punching. His hand, grasping for the gun, closed around something hard and he swung with all his might, catching Gamache on the side of the head.

The Chief fell sideways, stunned by the rock. Francoeur scrambled to his knees and clawed at his parka, trying to get it open. Trying to get at the Glock on his belt.

*   *   *

“Tessier?”

Beauvoir’s voice surprised Martin Tessier as he climbed down the ladder. The satellite dish was on the ground where he’d tossed it from the platform, and Jean-Guy Beauvoir was standing beside it.

“Beauvoir,” said Tessier, recovering himself and stepping off the last rung. His back to Beauvoir, he reached for his gun. “We’ve been looking for you.”

But he got no further. Beauvoir’s gun pressed into his neck.

“Where’s Gamache?” he whispered into Tessier’s ear.

*   *   *

Gamache saw Francoeur pull the gun out of the holster. He lunged before Francoeur could take aim, knocking him to the ground. But the gun remained in Francoeur’s grip.

Now both men fought for the weapon, punching and twisting and thrashing.

Francoeur had hold of it, and Gamache had hold of Francoeur, grasping with both hands, but the snow was wet and he could feel his grip slipping.

*   *   *

Beauvoir gave a savage shove and ground Tessier’s face into the bark of the tree.

“Where’s Gamache?” Beauvoir repeated. “Does he know you plan to blow up the schoolhouse?”

Tessier nodded, feeling the flesh scrape off his cheeks and onto the bark. “He thinks you’re in the schoolhouse.”

“Why does he think that?”

“Because we thought that.”

“You were going to kill me?”

“You and most of the people in the village, when that bomb explodes.”

“What did you tell Gamache?”

“That the schoolhouse was wired to explode, and that you were in it,” said Tessier.

Beauvoir turned him around and stared into Tessier’s eyes, trying to get at the truth.

“Does he know the bomb’s attached to the door?” Beauvoir demanded.

Tessier shook his head. “But it doesn’t matter. He won’t get that far. Francoeur’s taking care of him in the woods.”

*   *   *

Gamache could feel his grip slipping. He let go, and brought both hands down on Francoeur’s nose. He felt it snap and blood gushed from it. Francoeur howled and heaved his body, sending Gamache sideways into the snow.