All the Devils Are Here

“You’d be surprised,” said Fontaine.

“By what?” asked Reine-Marie.

“By how little they actually regulate,” said Daniel, leaping in again. “By how little they really know about corporations.”

“Tell me more,” said Fontaine, leaning toward him.

“Well, the French government checks compliance,” Daniel said. “But if a large corporation like GHS is slow to respond, the bureaucrats just move on to another company. Something smaller. Something simpler. So they can at least show progress.”

“So you’re saying, sir, that these corporations, in your experience, aren’t deliberately hiding anything?”

“From competitors, yes. But from the regulators, no. In my experience they try to be as transparent as possible. The problem is that there are too many companies, and too few watchdogs.”

Fontaine looked over at Gamache, who was listening, stone-faced. Showing absolutely no reaction to what his son just said.

But what must he be thinking?

Probably exactly what she was thinking. Daniel Gamache’s answer was naïve at best. Deliberately misleading at worst.

And while his father might want to think the best, Commander Irena Fontaine absolutely thought the worst.

“Let’s move on—” began Fontaine.

“Wait a minute,” said Gamache. “I have a small question for Daniel.”

He was breaking, shattering, his own advice to his family, but he had no choice.

“Oui?”

“Here in France there are a number of agencies that oversee corporate governance, right?”

“Yes. There’s the AMF, for instance.”

“But that’s mostly financial institutions, like banks,” said his father. “It wouldn’t oversee a private multinational company like GHS.”

“That’s true. But there are government bodies that enforce French commercial codes.”

Daniel was beginning to color. Not comfortable, it seemed, being essentially cross-examined by his father

But Commander Fontaine knew exactly what Gamache was doing.

This wasn’t a cross-examination. This was a rescue mission.

He’d seen the danger his son was in. He was giving Daniel another chance to explain. To not appear to be covering up for unethical companies.

To admit there was often complicity and collusion, bribery and intimidation. That sometimes watchdogs looked the other way while corporations got away with murder.

“You’ve been here for a while, Daniel. What do you think?” asked his father. “Could a private corporation intentionally hide its activities from regulators?”

He’s leading him right to it, thought Fontaine. And she found, despite herself, that she was rooting for Daniel to come through.

“Yes.”

Daniel was glaring at his father. Not understanding that the man had just saved him.

But Gamache wasn’t finished yet.

“How?” he asked.

“With billions of euros at stake, there can be bribery, blackmail,” said Daniel, his tone brusque. “Payoffs. Politicians can be in the pocket of private industry. Or it can be something as simple as a bureaucrat turning a blind eye to some problem, in hopes of being rewarded by the corporation.”

“A flaw in the system,” said his father, nodding. “Paying the enforcers so much less than the criminals make. Opens people up to temptation.”

“But most are honest,” said Daniel. “In my experience anyway. Unlike you, I don’t always want to see the worst in people.”

The shot was unmistakable. And had hit its mark.

Armand, despite years of practice, had never developed a defense against his son’s barbs.

And Irena Fontaine made a mental note. This might be a tight family circle, but she’d just found the weak link. The crack through which spite passed.

She wondered what the father could have done to the son to create such animosity.

“Bon, let’s shift back to Monsieur Horowitz. Madame McGillicuddy gave me a lot of information about his, what? Empire?”

The family, as one, smiled.

Stephen would have liked that. It made him an emperor.

“But,” continued Fontaine, “she refused to give me the codes to his computer and phone. The Prefect says you’ll get them for us. Have you done that, sir?”

“Not yet. I haven’t had the chance to call her back.”

“I see.”

Clearly, she was thinking, if she had found the time to speak to Mrs. McGillicuddy, he could, too. And Fontaine was right.

What she hadn’t known was that he’d spent that time with Stephen. But now, Armand realized he needed to focus on the investigation.

He couldn’t help his godfather. Stephen was in other hands. Good hands. But he could help find out who’d done this to him, and to Alexander Plessner.

“She did give me the name and number of Monsieur Horowitz’s personal lawyer in Montréal,” said Fontaine. “I’ll be calling soon, but you can save me some time.”

“How?” asked Roslyn, leaning forward.

“Who benefits?” said Fontaine, looking around the room.