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.
“How long ago was this?”
Pinot considered. “Six, seven months.”
About the time the job at GHS had been offered to Jean-Guy, thought Armand. Stephen was putting his plan in place.
“And did you agree? Without even knowing why?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“Because he asked. That’s all I needed.” Pinot studied Gamache. “Would you need more?”
Armand smiled slightly and shook his head.
“I was willing to do it immediately, but Stephen wanted to wait until the last minute, until the morning of the board meeting. He swore me to secrecy. Do you have any idea what he had in mind?”
“No, but I found this in his agenda.” Armand showed Pinot the photograph of the slip of paper. “We think the AFP means Agence France-Presse. Do these dates mean anything to you?”
Pinot studied them. “Yes. This one. It’s when one of my reporters disappeared.”
“Anik Guardiola. In Patagonia.”
“You know about her?”
“I know it was called an accident. But almost certainly wasn’t. What happened?”
“I don’t know. Not for sure. I should’ve asked more questions, back when her body was found. Should’ve pushed more. That’s how I got on the GHS board, you know.”
Armand did not know. But he knew enough to keep quiet and let Pinot talk.
“The police in Patagonia said it was a hiking accident. I sent investigators. They discovered that her laptop and phone and all her notes were missing. But by then her body had been cremated. We pressured the government, but—” He lifted his beefy hands.
“What story was she on?”
“It was about water quality. We traced her steps to meetings with various corporations, including GHS. They were very open, said she’d visited the site of the proposed treatment plant and the mine that they’d closed. They seemed extremely disturbed by her death. That’s when they offered me a seat on their board. As a gesture of transparency and goodwill.”
He took a sharp breath and a long exhale. “This was four years ago. It seems they knew me better than I knew myself. It appealed to my ego. I was dazzled by the other board members. Completely taken in.”
“When did you realize things were not as they seemed?”
“Only when Stephen asked me to give him my seat on the board.”
“Give?” asked Gamache. “He was going to pay you hundreds of millions, non? Hardly a gift.”
“You do know a lot.”
“It’s what I do,” said Gamache, his patience wearing thin. “I get information. Please stop obfuscating. We don’t have time.”
“Yes, he was paying for the shares, but it wasn’t for me. A trust has been set up for victims. Some of that has been set aside for the family of my murdered journalist. You can check.”
“Victims. Of what?”
“I don’t know. I asked Stephen, and all he’d say is that it would be clear at the board meeting.”
Armand nodded, taking this in. It sounded like Stephen, who liked to keep information to himself. “Have you ever heard of neodymium?”
“It’s a rare earth element, isn’t it? We did a series on them a couple of years ago. They’ve become a hot commodity. Why?”
“That mine in Patagonia GHS bought and Anik Guardiola investigated hasn’t been closed. They’ve been mining neodymium. I think she found out about it.”
Pinot’s brows rose. “Huh. If that’s true, it’s quite a find. GHS hasn’t announced this to the board. Why keep it a secret? Why would Anik Guardiola finding out about it be a problem? It’s not illegal, is it?”
“I think the issue isn’t the mineral, but what they’re doing with it. I think your young journalist found out too much and was murdered to keep her quiet. She also did a story, which Stephen noted, about a train derailment in Colombia. Any idea what that was about?”
“No, none. You’re going to have to remind me. What’s neodymium used for?”
“Batteries. Laptops. Hard drives,” said Gamache. “But there’s some suggestion a new use has been found. Something in telecommunications. Do you know any engineers, someone not associated with GHS, who might know?”
“My daughter-in-law’s an engineer. Works for Lavalin.” He made the call.
As far as the daughter-in-law knew, no revolutionary new uses had been found for neodymium.
“Ask her if it could cause a train to derail,” said Gamache.
Pinot did. Listening to the answer, he grimaced. Thanked her, then hung up.
“She says it would have to be a cartoon magnet to drag a train off its tracks. I think she thinks I’m nuts.”
Gamache looked again at what Stephen had written. “The derailment has something to do with the journalist’s murder. And these other dates are significant, too.”
Pinot got up. “We need to look them up. The Agence France-Presse morgue keeps all the old stories. We can go there.”
Armand also got to his feet. “Can you get access to your files from anywhere?”
“Yes. They have trusted me with the passwords,” said the owner of AFP, with a smile.
“Bon. Make your excuses to your guests and meet me at the front door.”
Pinot joined him a couple of minutes later. “Well, I just left three baffled friends including a former Prime Minister of Italy, though I suspect he’s often baffled. I might’ve suggested I was going to meet a mistress. I just hope they don’t see us together.”
“You could do worse,” said Armand.
“True.” Pinot laughed. Then, at a subtle signal, a liveried chauffeur hurried over to a limousine. “We can use my car.”
“Best not,” said Gamache, and asked the doorman to get them a taxi. Telling him where they wanted to go.
“La Défense, s’il vous plaît,” the doorman told the driver.
Pinot opened his mouth, but at a stern look from Gamache, he shut it.
A block along, Gamache leaned forward again and said, “But first, we need to go to Place de la Concorde.”
“Oui, monsieur.”
“I thought we were going to my offices,” said Pinot.
“Non,” was all Gamache said.
Pinot settled into the back of the taxi, marveling that it had been years, decades, since he’d used anything other than a limousine or a helicopter to get around Paris.
He did not like this new experience.
Once at Place de la Concorde, Gamache quickly crossed to the Fontaine des Mers. As the driver and Pinot watched, he took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his trousers, and climbed into the fountain.
Shoving up his sleeves, he reached into the freezing-cold water and moved his hands around until he found what he was looking for.
As he got out, a woman approached and gave him a two-euro coin. “Use it for food, monsieur.”
“Merci, mais—” Gamache began, but she’d walked away, into the night.
“What was that about?” asked Pinot when Gamache returned, shivering, to the taxi. With a look of warning not to actually speak, Armand opened his hand.
Resting in his palm were two Canadian nickels. Stuck firmly together.
CHAPTER 39
Annie was catching her breath after a labor pain, and Jean-Guy took the opportunity to leave the room to get her more ice water. And to catch his own breath.
Reine-Marie followed him out.
“Armand should be here,” she said, lowering her voice. “Why isn’t he? Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Jean-Guy. “I do know he’d be here if he could.”
“Something’s happened.” Reine-Marie looked behind her, at the closed door to the small private room where her daughter was laboring to give birth to her own daughter. “I’m going to call.”