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.
“It was done,” said Dussault. “I’m a realist. There was no undoing it.”
“You were working for the people who murdered a man you admired,” said Gamache, his rage spilling out. “By then you must’ve known they were involved in other crimes, other killings. How do you justify that? Has the world gone mad?”
Dussault stood up and nodded to the guards, who raised their weapons.
Armand stepped in front of Daniel. “One thing I don’t understand. Who’s Séverine Arbour in all this? She’s working for you, or was. Why kill her?”
Dussault made a small gesture, and Loiselle and the other guards lowered their weapons a few inches.
“You’re so smart,” said Girard. “Who do you think she was?”
Gamache thought on the fly. Putting the disparate pieces together. “Her job was to kick over any evidence of the neodymium and the accidents. Make sure no one clued in.”
Girard was smiling.
I’ve got something wrong, thought Gamache. Something doesn’t fit.
He paused. Thinking. Thinking. Watching. Watching. Seeing.
Then his face opened in astonishment.
“Carole Gossette.” He could see by Dussault’s smile that he had it right. He nodded toward the file. “Those emails and notes are from her. To her. She wasn’t in on it. She suspected something was wrong. That’s why she agreed when Stephen asked that Beauvoir be hired. That’s why she hired Arbour, an accomplished engineer, and put her in the department charged with oversight. She knew if there was anything to find, Séverine Arbour would ferret it out. Madame Arbour wasn’t trying to cover up,” said Gamache. “She thought she was working for the police, to uncover wrongdoing.”
Dussault nodded. “I approached her, warned her about Beauvoir, and asked for her help. She agreed without hesitation. I am the Prefect, after all.”
“You’ve been setting Carole Gossette up,” said Gamache. “Should anything go wrong, it’ll be laid at her feet.”
“Someone has to take the blame, though I suspect she wouldn’t want to face that,” said Girard. “And might even take her own life.”
“In the archives tonight,” said Gamache, “when I confronted Arbour, she began to see the truth.”
“She called us,” said Girard. “That’s when we decided not to wait for you to find the documents, but to move in.”
“It’s almost eight,” said Dussault, and tucking the file under his arm, he nodded to the guards, who raised their rifles.
“Dad?” said Daniel.
“Wait,” said Gamache. “There’s something you’re missing. Something you don’t know. Stephen and Plessner tracked down one more piece of evidence, hard evidence. The piece of equipment made out of neodymium. The thing causing all the problems.”
“He’s lying,” said Dussault.
“I have proof,” said Gamache, trying without success to keep the desperation out of his voice. “They had it in their possession. How else could the nickels have gotten so strongly magnetized?”
“What’s a nickel?” demanded Girard. “What’s he talking about?”
“Nothing,” said Dussault. “He’s babbling. Trying to buy time. Kill him. Do it now.”
“If you do,” said Gamache, holding his hand up in front of him, “you’ll never find it.”
“There’s nothing to find,” said Dussault.
“Then why did you throw the coins into the fountain at Place de la Concorde? It’s because you wanted to go back and get them later. Keep them for yourself, as blackmail.”
“What coins?” asked Girard.
“The ones in my pocket.”
Gamache went to put his hand in, but Girard stopped him and gestured to one of the guards.
It was all Gamache needed. As soon as the armed guard lowered his weapon and reached out, Gamache grabbed him. Pulling the gun from his pocket he got off two quick shots.
Blood spread over Claude Dussault’s chest as he staggered backward and collapsed.
“Run!” Armand shouted to Daniel.
He heard the door slam just as a burst of gunfire hit the SecurForte guard he was using as a shield. They both fell back. The dead weight of the guard against him dragged Gamache to the floor.
As he fell, the gun bounced from his grip.
Daniel had slammed the door closed. But was still in the apartment.
He knew he could never outrun the guards, or their bullets. And he couldn’t leave his father behind. His only hope was to hide.
Hide-and-seek. The game he and Annie had played as children.
The one his father had reminded him of just minutes ago.
The game Grandma Zora had taught them.
Over and over, she’d challenged the children to quickly find someplace to hide. Not under a bed. Not in a closet, or behind a curtain. Too obvious.
She’d made it fun, but there always seemed something intense about it. It was the same intensity his father had just now. When talking about their game.
Then, one day, he and Annie had successfully hidden from everyone. Here in Stephen’s apartment. Unaware it was a game, their parents and Stephen had searched for them. Growing from anxious to worried to terrified. The children were missing. Gone.
Once they’d emerged, laughing, their mother and father had, through thin lips, explained that they’d been scared to death.
And now Daniel remembered where that hiding place was. The false cupboard in the armoire in Stephen’s bedroom. It looked like drawers, but actually swung open, revealing a large empty space inside. Large enough for two children.
And now, Daniel, a very grown man, threw open the door and squeezed in. Shutting it behind him. Only just.
There wasn’t a centimeter to spare, and hardly any air to breathe. But he was in.
Through the crack, he could see into the living room.
Alain Pinot was cringing behind an armchair.
Claude Dussault’s body was on the floor.
And his father was struggling to get out from under the dead guard.
Girard put his own gun back in its holster and picked the weapon off the floor. “Get up.”
Daniel’s breathing came in sharp jabs as he watched his father get to his feet.
“He got away,” said Loiselle, returning to the living room.
“He couldn’t have,” snapped Girard. “He must still be here. Find him.” But just as Loiselle gestured to the other guard to follow him, Girard said, “No, wait. I have a better idea.”
He stepped back and aimed the gun at Gamache.
Armand stared Girard straight in the eyes and lifted his chin, in defiance.
But instead of firing, Girard called, “Daniel Gamache. Come out now, or we’ll kill your father.”
“Daniel, don’t.”
“Daniel, do,” ordered Girard. “Or he dies now.”
Daniel stared, frozen.
He knew if he did, Girard would kill them both. If he didn’t, his father would be gunned down. In front of him. And then they’d find him. And kill him anyway.
He closed his eyes and stepped off the ledge.
“Okay, okay,” he said, and crawled out from his hiding place.
“Oh, Daniel,” his father whispered.
“Now that was a mistake, young man,” said Girard.
He nodded to the guard, who raised his rifle at Daniel.
“No,” screamed Armand, and leaped forward, just as the guard pressed the trigger.
Armand knocked the weapon down so that the shots went into the floor.
At that moment, Girard fired. Point blank. Three shots. Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Dad,” Daniel shouted.
His heart pounding, his brain exploding, he fell to his knees as his father collapsed.
Girard put two more bullets into him. To be sure.
“Oh, no,” whispered Daniel, crawling across the carpet. “Dad?”
“Fuck me,” said Alain Pinot, coming out from behind the chair and staring at the bodies.