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 was Gamache I saw you with yesterday, right? The older man? I recognized him, too. That’s why I wanted to speak to you.”
“Why?”
“In the factory, none of your agents broke and ran. You were disciplined, trained, dedicated. A tight team. But still, no one faces that kind of hell and keeps moving forward unless they know there’s a good reason. A higher purpose.”
Beauvoir’s grip on the man’s jacket remained tight, but the pistol dropped a little. Allowing Loiselle to meet his eyes.
“I used to believe that, too,” Loiselle said. “That what I did was important. That it mattered. But I don’t anymore. That’s why the video is watched over and over by ex–special forces. It reminds us of what we once were. What we once had.”
“And what’s that?”
“Self-respect.”
Beauvoir pushed himself away from Loiselle, the better to judge the man.
“I don’t want to do this shit anymore,” said Loiselle. “When I left the GIGN, I was burned out. I just didn’t care. I’d hire myself out to whoever would pay. But seeing you at the office the other day, it was like a slap in the face. I woke up.”
“Bullshit.”
“I let you catch me. I could’ve gotten away. Easily. I could’ve killed you. Easily. But I wanted to warn you.”
“About what?”
“They killed that Plessner man and tried to kill Horowitz. It was a shit show. And now they’re scared. They see you as a threat. They told me to scare you off.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“They’ll come after you. And maybe even your family. You moved them to the George V. That was unexpected. I think my bosses will take time to consider what that means and what to do next. They’re ruthless, but they’re not stupid. Killing you and your family in the George V would create far more problems than it would solve, but they’ll still do it, if cornered. You’ve bought a little time. But not much.”
“Who are they? Who’s giving the orders?”
“My orders come from the top of SecurForte, but I don’t know who’s giving them to the company.”
“Are the cops involved?”
Loiselle looked at him, shocked. “Everyone’s involved. You really have no idea how powerful SecurForte is, do you? The information it holds over politicians, cops, judges, the media. I could blow up the Tour Eiffel in full view, and if it was on the orders of SecurForte, I’d walk. Man, you better get up to speed fast, before you get run over.”
“How do I know this isn’t part of their plan? How do I know this isn’t a trap?”
“I guess you don’t. But what choice do you have?”
“You must know what this’s about,” insisted Beauvoir.
“All I know is that whatever they were looking for, whatever they killed that old man for, they didn’t find it. And they’re scared shitless that you will. But they have options. Kill you before you can find it, or stand back and let you find it. Then kill you. Either way…”
“Were those your orders? To follow me, try to scare me off, but if that didn’t work, and I found the evidence, you were to kill me and take it?”
Loiselle smiled. “You’re catching on.”
“You’re following me,” said Beauvoir. “Is someone following Gamache?”
“I think so. But I don’t know who, and I don’t know what their orders are.”
“You mean to just follow, or to do harm?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck,” said Beauvoir. He stared at Loiselle. He couldn’t hold the gun on the man and text Gamache at the same time.
Loiselle understood what he was thinking, and said, “I won’t move.”
Getting as far from Loiselle as he could in the tight office, Jean-Guy put the gun down and took out his phone. Keeping his eyes on Loiselle, he sent off the quick text, then picked the gun back up.
“What’s in Luxembourg? What’s so important about that project?”
“I have no idea, but I can try to find out.”
“Is Séverine Arbour involved?”
“Madame Arbour? In your department at GHS? Not that I know.”
“Is Carole Gossette?”
“I think so. I heard them talking about her. But I don’t know for sure.”
Jean-Guy stared at the man across from him. He had a decision to make that would affect the rest of his life, and the lives of those he loved.
Taking a deep breath, he gave the gun back to Loiselle.
CHAPTER 29
Gamache read the text from Jean-Guy. Then, replacing his phone in his pocket, he scanned the road.
Pedestrians walked by, some on their way from a service at the nearby Notre-Dame-des-Blancs-Manteaux. None looked in his direction.
“Monsieur Gamache?”
He turned just as the front gate to the archives building was unlocked. “Madame Lenoir. Merci.”
She shepherded him past security and down what looked like a dark alley, to the less-than-grand entrance to the archives.
The Musée des archives nationales, next door, was spectacular. In an old château, it was approached through a quadrangle of manicured lawn and garden.
But the archives themselves looked like they were housed in a bunker. In Moscow. In the fifties.
Reine-Marie greeted him.
“What is it?” he asked, seeing her face.
“Come with me.”
He followed her to a terminal in the reading room.
This building in the Paris archives held almost one hundred kilometers of documents, dating from 600 A.D. to 1958. But it all came down to one tiny entry.
One name.
Whatever Armand had expected to see, it wasn’t that.
“Oh, Daniel,” he whispered.
Jean-Guy looked out the window and tried to imagine he was not in a jam-packed elevator. Pushed up against the glass.
He shut his eyes and imagined himself sitting with Annie and Honoré in the bistro in Three Pines. Listening to friends and neighbors talking and laughing. The scent of wood smoke and coffee and sweet pine in the air.
He inhaled. But instead of pine, or coffee, or even the oddly comforting scent of mud, he smelled Sauvage by Dior. And felt elbows digging into him.
There was no escaping the fact he was in a crowded elevator, with Paris at his feet. Literally.
The elevator climbed higher and higher, and the space grew tighter and tighter. The scent grew more and more suffocating.
And then the elevator stopped, and he was expelled onto the very highest platform of the Tour Eiffel.
The wind was bracing. Going to the edge, he breathed in the fresh air.
“Why’re we here?” Séverine Arbour demanded.
Beauvoir was looking around, and then, spotting what he was looking for, he waved the man over.
“Xavier Loiselle, this is Séverine Arbour.”
“We’ve met,” said Loiselle, putting out his large hand.
Madame Arbour stared at it, then at Beauvoir.
“He’s a security guard at GHS. I’ve seen him when I’ve signed in. What’s this about? When you came to my house, you said something about the Luxembourg project. I thought we were going into the office, not coming here.”
She looked around.
Séverine Arbour was not afraid of heights, which was just as well. She was standing as high as a person could get in France without wings.
Le Comptoir was hopping when Reine-Marie and Armand pushed their way inside.
When they caught the owner’s eye, a spot was made for them at a small table at the back.
Armand and Reine-Marie knew this bistro in the Odéon well. Knew the patron. Knew the patrons. And would spot any strangers trying to overhear their conversation.
After they ordered two salade Niçoise, Armand told her about Jean-Guy’s brief text.