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.
“That means,” Reine-Marie said, deciding they were taking too long to get there, “that it could’ve been Irena Fontaine we interrupted in Stephen’s apartment.”
“It could also mean they’re closer than we realized. We need to find out more about her,” said Jean-Guy.
“And SecurForte,” said Reine-Marie.
She took over the laptop and put the name in. Up came a website.
It was spartan, to say the least. All they could see was the home page. They needed a security code to access more.
The home page photo showed a handsome, well-groomed, muscular man in a suit standing alert beside a Maybach, while a woman, smiling but also alert, held the door open for a little girl and her mother.
In the bottom right corner was their logo.
“That’s the same emblem I saw on the guard’s uniform,” said Jean-Guy. “The same one in that article.”
“It looks like a snowflake,” said Annie. “Why would they have a snowflake as a corporate logo?”
“Look closer,” said Reine-Marie, doing just that. “Those are spears, tridents, in a circle.”
The spears were radiating out from a central point, as though protecting it.
“That’s no snowflake,” said Reine-Marie. “That’s a promise, and a warning. Clever.” She smiled. “Making it look like one thing while actually being something else. Hiding its real nature. An insignia like that is more than just a corporate logo. It’s a symbol. It means something. Most paramilitary emblems do.”
After a few dead ends, she sat back and turned the screen to the others. “Voilà. The Helm of Awe.”
“You’re kidding, right?” said Annie, leaning in. “Sounds like a comic book.”
“The Helm of Awe,” Reine-Marie read, “is an ancient Norse symbol of protection and overwhelming might.”
“What’s the Sûreté du Québec logo again?” Jean-Guy asked as they stared at the Helm of Awe. “A kitten?”
“Playing with a ball of yarn, oui,” said Armand.
Annie laughed. They all knew the Sûreté logo was a fleur-de-lys. A flower. Appropriate, but hardly awe-inspiring.
Fortunately, they didn’t need a symbol to be inspired.
“Does it say who runs SecurForte?” asked Armand.
“No,” said Reine-Marie. “But I’m sure I can find out.”
“Actually, there’s something else we need you to look into,” said Armand.
He told her and Annie about the documents Irena Fontaine had produced, questioning which side Stephen was on in the war.
“But that’s ridiculous,” said Annie. “There’s no way he was a Nazi.”
“Those documents were supposedly suppressed by the Allies, you say?” said Reine-Marie. “Hidden in the Archives nationales. I have experience with those archives. They’re immense. If those documents were buried seventy-five years ago, they wouldn’t be easy to find. And yet she had them within hours of the investigation beginning. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Go on,” said Armand.
Reine-Marie thought. “They must’ve already had them, ready to use if necessary.”
“By ‘they,’ you mean Fontaine’s boss. The Préfet de Police,” said Beauvoir.
They were back to Claude Dussault. All leads led them there.
“Looks like it, yes,” said Armand.
“But why?” asked Annie.
“Suppose Stephen found out that GHS was, for example, stealing corporate secrets,” said her father. “They’d have to stop him before he exposed them. How would they do that?”
“They could kill him,” said Annie.
“Yes, that would do it. But it’s pretty drastic, and risky. I think they’d try something else first.”
“Blackmail,” said Jean-Guy. “They went looking for some dirt to hold over him. Maybe something criminal.”
“They found those documents from the war,” said Reine-Marie. “And threatened to use them. If he exposed them, they’d tar him as a collaborator.”
Jean-Guy nodded. He’d been in France long enough to know that the Second World War was never that far away. Especially the tender issue of who worked for the Resistance, and who claimed to but actually worked for the Nazis.
He’d learned early on that he should never suggest “collaborating” with a colleague. It was an incendiary word.
“Well, if that was the strategy, they don’t know him,” said Reine-Marie. “That would just make him more determined than ever.”
“So they moved to plan B.” Armand turned to Reine-Marie. “Is there a record of who asks for which files at the archives?”
“There is, and I can look it up.” She paused. “But I have to be there. There’s something else, Armand. Something Annie found out.”
“I asked a colleague at my law firm to look into the work we did for Alexander Plessner,” said Annie. “He got back to me late this afternoon. Monsieur Plessner had an agreement drawn up, to form a limited partnership here in France. This was earlier this year.”
When Annie hesitated, Armand said, “Go on.”
“The agreement was with a newly created department within the Banque Privée des Affaires. The venture capital division.”
“Daniel?” Armand said and saw Annie nod. “But maybe he didn’t actually know Plessner.”
“He did. His name’s on the incorporation certificate.”
Daniel had lied.
CHAPTER 26
Armand stood up. “I’m going over there.”
“You can’t,” said Reine-Marie. “It’s almost midnight.”
“Then he’s sure to be in.” He was walking to the door.
“Armand, stop.” It was a command. From Reine-Marie.
And he did. But he remained with his back to her. Not, for the moment, wanting her to see the rage, the outrage he felt toward their son.
The hurt.
“He lied.”
“Yes,” said Reine-Marie. “But storming over there isn’t going to help. You know that.”
Now he did turn and held her eyes. “He lied. Not just to the police, but to us.”
To me.
“He was probably in shock when Commander Fontaine said it was Alexander Plessner who’d been killed,” said Reine-Marie. “You know Daniel. He feels things deeply and takes his time to think things over. But he gets there.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Come home,” said Reine-Marie. “Sleep on it. You can speak with him in the morning. If you go over now, who knows what’ll happen. What’ll be said that can’t be unsaid. Please.”
She held out her hand. Armand looked at it. Then, nodding, he took it.
“You’re right. It’ll keep ’til morning.” He turned to Annie. “Will you be going to the hotel?”
“First thing in the morning, yes,” said Annie. “Once Honoré’s awake. Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Daniel’s a good man. He’s not involved in this. You know that, right?”
“I do.”
But he didn’t dare look Jean-Guy in the eye. He knew what he’d find there.
If anyone else in a homicide investigation had blatantly lied about knowing the victim, they’d move way up the suspect list.
And Daniel’s actions were suspect, at the very least.
Once home, they decided to leave the dishes for the morning and dropped into bed, exhausted.
Armand expected to toss and turn, but instead he fell into an immediate and deep sleep and awoke to the sound of rain pelting against the bedroom window.
It was dawn on a drizzly Sunday morning. As he closed the window, Armand looked out and into the living room of the apartment across the narrow street.
It belonged to a young couple with a child. He didn’t know their names, though they sometimes waved to each other. But it was too early for anyone to be up.