All the Devils Are Here
- Автор: Пенни Луиза
- Серия: Chief Inspector Gamache #16
- Год: 2020
- Язык: английский
- Год: St. Martin's Publishing Group
- ISBN: 9781250145253
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «All the Devils Are Here». Краткое содержание книги:
On their first night in Paris, the Gamaches gather as a family for a bistro dinner with Armand's godfather, the billionaire Stephen Horowitz. Walking home together after the meal, they watch in horror as Stephen is knocked down and critically injured in what Gamache knows is no accident, but a deliberate attempt on the elderly man's life.
When a strange key is found in Stephen's possession it sends Armand, his wife Reine-Marie, and his former second-in-command at the Sûreté, Jean-Guy Beauvoir, from the top of the Tour d'Eiffel, to the bowels of the Paris Archives, from luxury hotels to odd, coded, works of art.
It sends them deep into the secrets Armand's godfather has kept for decades.
A gruesome discovery in Stephen's Paris apartment makes it clear the secrets are more rancid, the danger far greater and more imminent, than they realized.
Soon the whole family is caught up in a web of lies and deceit. In order to find the truth, Gamache will have to decide whether he can trust his friends, his colleagues, his instincts, his own past. His own family.
For even the City of Light casts long shadows. And in that darkness devils hide.
If Stephen was about to topple a tower of malfeasance he’d probably be quite bubbly. It was just about his favorite thing to do.
As it was, he was clearly pleased to see everyone and to be there, but there was no sense of triumph. Nor did he seem guarded or nervous.
“But he did check his phone a few times,” said Beauvoir. “That was strange.”
“Yes, you mentioned that before. I wonder if he was looking for a message from Monsieur Plessner. There was no phone found on the body or in the apartment?”
“Non, but they might find one eventually.”
“I doubt it,” said Armand, and so did Jean-Guy. The killer would have taken it.
And there was something else.
“Stephen helped me get the job at GHS,” said Jean-Guy. “Could there have been a reason? But if he had suspicions about the company, he’d have told me, right? Or at least hinted?”
Gamache shook his head. His godfather was a complicated man. He kept his own counsel, and always had. His early experiences in the war had taught him that the fewer people who knew what was going on, the safer everyone was.
It was a quality he and his godson shared. A quality others did not always appreciate.
It seemed obvious that someone knew what Stephen Horowitz was about to do. And needed to stop him.
It was their turn now to connect the dots. But first they had to collect the dots.
“If he put you in GHS because he had suspicions, he might’ve wanted you to figure it out on your own,” said Gamache. “And not prejudice your thoughts.”
“Yeah, well, he obviously overestimated my ‘thoughts.’ I have none. At least, no suspicions. Though—”
“Oui?”
“Well, it’s just that my number two—”
“Madame Arbour.”
“Oui. She was pushing some file on me yesterday afternoon. A project we have in Luxembourg.”
“Luxembourg?”
“Yes. Small by comparison to others. When I changed the subject to Patagonia, she seemed miffed. I put it down to a very tiring power struggle we still seem to be having. I thought she might be testing, to see if I was up on even the smaller projects. What is it?”
“I’m remembering my conversation with Stephen in the Rodin. A mistake he made.”
“He made a mistake?” Jean-Guy had never heard of the financier making, or certainly admitting to, an error.
“More like a memory lapse. He said that he’d convinced me to propose to Reine-Marie in the jardin du Luxembourg. But that was wrong. He’d actually suggested a small garden in the Marais, just off rue des Rosiers.”
“And that’s where you did propose?”
“Yes. I put the mistake down to his age and lingering jet lag. But clearly he wasn’t suffering from jet lag since he’d arrived days earlier.”
“So, what was it? If it wasn’t a mistake, you think he might’ve said it on purpose?”
“I’m not sure I’d go that far. He might’ve had Luxembourg on his mind. What’s the project there?”
“A funicular.”
“An outdoor elevator?”
“Yes, up the side of a cliff. But this’s a newer, safer design. We’re incorporating it into elevators all over the world, not just funiculars. Jesus, could Stephen be worried about the design? Could something be wrong?”
“Stephen isn’t an engineer. He can read a financial statement in moments, but I doubt he could make heads or tails of an engineering report.”
They were now wandering in the dark, and in danger of believing they weren’t totally lost. It was at about this point, as Gamache warned his people, that many investigations went over a cliff.
“You say that when you changed the subject, Madame Arbour got upset?”
“A bit, yes,” said Beauvoir.
“Did you tell Stephen this?”
Beauvoir thought. “No. You think there’s something in it?”
“I think it would be helpful to get a copy of the engineering report on that funicular.”
“But Stephen didn’t have the report with him. If he was going to expose something, don’t you think he’d take it to the GHS meeting?”
“Maybe he hid it. Maybe that’s what the intruder was trying to find. Not just the report, but the proof something was wrong.”
“True. I’ll see what I can do. Might slip into work later today. But it would mean missing the autopsy.”
“A shame.”
“Oui.”
“But even if I find it, I’m not sure the engineering report will be helpful,” said Jean-Guy. “I still can’t understand them.”
“Then we’ll find someone who can.”
Beauvoir sat up straighter. His brows drawing together in concentration.
“I told Stephen last night that I was struggling to understand the engineering. He said he did, too.”
“Which means he tried,” said Gamache. “Maybe even the funicular report.”
“Yes. He also said that he found it helpful to read the emails between the engineers and home base.”
“Home base being Paris. Your head office. Can you get those?” Gamache was leaning forward now.
“I can try.” Jean-Guy’s eyes were narrowed, his quick mind going through the options. And the conclusions. “But if there is something wrong with the design of the funicular, and Séverine Arbour saw it, wouldn’t she tell me? Why bring the Luxembourg report to my attention but then not say anything?”
“Maybe she was going to, but you changed the subject. Maybe that’s why she was annoyed.”
“God, that might be true,” said Beauvoir. “But still, if it was a serious flaw, you’d think she’d set aside her feelings and insist on telling me.”
Gamache sat back and took his glasses off as he, too, tried to see the answer. “Madame Arbour’s an engineer, right?”
“Yes. Carole Gossette, the head of operations, says she’s a very good one.”
“Interesting, then, that she should be put in a department meant to police the others.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Beauvoir.
“So, she’s either there to help find problems,” said Gamache. “Or to cover them up.”
“Jesus. She brought me the Luxembourg report not to tell me about the flaw,” said Beauvoir, his eyes widening. “She wanted to test me, to make sure I hadn’t seen it.”
“I think it’s possible. With the board meeting so close, and your connection to Stephen known, they might’ve wanted to see how much you knew.”
“To add my name to the hit list?” Jean-Guy asked. “Fuck me. How many people were they willing to kill?”
“How many people have already died?” asked Gamache. “A flaw in an engineering design, in an elevator for example, could kill hundreds before it’s stopped.”
“How sick do you need to be to cover up something that could kill hundreds, maybe thousands?”
Gamache looked at him.
It happened more often than he cared to admit. But couldn’t deny.
Airlines. Car manufacturers. Pharmaceuticals. Chemical companies. The entire tobacco industry.
Companies knew. Governments knew. Even so-called watchdogs knew. And remained silent. And got rich.
While hundreds, thousands, millions died. Were killed.
The Great Murders.
It had been, and still was, Gamache’s job to find those responsible, and stop them. Jean-Guy, as Gamache’s second-in-command, had followed him into that cesspool.
And while Jean-Guy Beauvoir had left, he hadn’t actually escaped. The sludge had followed him. Found him. In Paris. He was in it again, this time up to his neck, it seemed.
Beauvoir considered. Was Séverine Arbour that ambitious? That sick?
The former homicide investigator knew that the desire for power and money could infect. Could fester. Could hollow out a person.