The Nature of the Beast
“Is it them?” asked Beauvoir.
Rosenblatt didn’t answer. He made humming sounds, his finger tracing the lines of the schematic.
Come on, come on, thought Beauvoir. Behind them, the clock on the mantel said six minutes past six. Somewhere in the background he could hear the Radio Canada news. The French service also had the story of Gerald Bull and Project Babylon.
Olivier and Gabri must be in the kitchen, Beauvoir thought. Listening. Along with the rest of the world.
“Are these the plans?” he demanded.
* * *
Adam Cohen walked beside his friend down the long corridor. He felt sick and wondered if it was the flu, or the overpowering stink of disinfectant, or the memories conjured by that smell. Of eighteen long months in this hellhole, guarding these psychopaths.
Was it the thought of what he was about to do that was turning his stomach? Or was it more simple than all that? Less heroic. Was it just garden-variety fear, rooted and blossoming into terror?
Behind Cohen, with two heavily armed guards in front and two guards beside him, John Fleming was shuffling, his chains clinking. And mixed with that sound was humming. An old hymn.
By the waters of Babylon …
Agent Cohen walked on, his eyes riveted on the bright red exit sign. His hand in his pocket, clutching the device. Willing it to leap to life with a message.
* * *
Professor Rosenblatt studied one page, then the next, and the next. Looking at the schematics, pausing now and then to consider, then moving on.
“I see how they solved the trajectory problem, just here,” he said, pointing at a diagram.
“Are they genuine?” demanded Gamache, his own patience worn thin and finally worn through.
Rosenblatt straightened up and nodded. “I believe so.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” said a woman’s voice, and they turned to see Mary Fraser and Sean Delorme at the door. “We saw you come over from the church. Is that what I think it is?”
Gamache rolled the plans back up.
“Yes.”
Mary Fraser looked genuinely relieved. Then she held out her hand.
For an instant Gamache thought it was a peace offering. Shaking hands to signal a truce. Perhaps even congratulations for doing what she could not.
Then he saw her face and realized the hand wasn’t offering, it was demanding.
Gamache handed the scroll to Beauvoir, then walked wordlessly past Mary Fraser to the telephone on the bar. He glanced at his watch.
Twenty minutes past six.
He was halfway through dialing Lacoste at the Incident Room when he heard a tiny, familiar click.
He froze, then slowly turned and saw Sean Delorme holding a gun.
In his peripheral vision he saw Jean-Guy with his hands up in hasty surrender. He’d taken a few steps away from Gamache.
“It’s best that you hang up the phone.”
Gamache did and turned to Mary Fraser. “Not CSIS?”
“You really don’t understand our world, do you? And this is not the time for explanations.”
She still looked like Mary Poppins, right down to the oversized handbag and the spoonful-of-sugar expression.
“You took that picture,” said Gamache. “Of Gerald Bull and Dr. Couture. And John Fleming. You were the fourth person in Brussels.”
He’d stepped to within feet of them but she didn’t seem concerned. She knew he was unarmed. She had nothing to fear from Armand Gamache.
She nodded. “You’ve worked a lot out, Monsieur Gamache. I was young, of course. And now I’m making up for those mistakes. The plans, please.”
Beauvoir lowered the hand holding the scroll.
“No, you can’t,” said Professor Rosenblatt, stepping forward. Delorme and Fraser glanced over to him, and in the moment it took to turn back, Beauvoir had swung his arm behind him and was holding the plans for Project Babylon over the fire.
Delorme raised the gun and took aim, but Gamache stepped between him and his son-in-law, spreading his arms out.
“Non.”
The act was so unexpected, the sequence of events so rapid, that Delorme hesitated.
“You’ll have to kill us all,” said Gamache. “Are you prepared to do that?”
“If you’re prepared to die, we’re prepared to do it,” said Mary Fraser. “The few for the many, remember?”
“You have a warped idea of the greater good,” snapped Beauvoir. “For your information, this is what it looks like.”
He dropped the plans in the fireplace just as Professor Rosenblatt stepped in front of Gamache. Behind him, Armand heard a whoooosh as the design for Project Babylon went up in flames.