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But he was equally sure his father-in-law saw it as a compliment.

“I think the guard Loiselle was following me. But I don’t know why he would’ve stopped.”

“Maybe his orders were to scare you. What do you think is going on at GHS?”

Beauvoir exhaled and shook his head. “I wish I knew. I wish I could understand that report.” He pointed to the printout in Gamache’s hands. “The engineering could be flawed and they’re covering up. Could be money laundering. Drugs? Arms dealing? The company has the scope for it. Projects all over the world. Shipments of equipment going back and forth to places known to traffic in drugs and weapons and people. But the Luxembourg project?” Beauvoir shook his head. “A funicular in a grand duchy? It seems unlikely. Too small. Too time-limited. They’d choose something that would go on for years, not months.”

Gamache was quiet, nodding slightly, as though listening to music. Or some internal voice.

“What is it?” asked Beauvoir.

“There’s either something very wrong about the Luxembourg project, or there isn’t.”

That was a little cryptic even for Gamache.

Beauvoir was about to ask for clarification when he suddenly understood. “You think they were erasing all those messages so that we wouldn’t see that there’s nothing wrong with it. So we’ll continue to focus on the Luxembourg project, and not where the issue really is.”

“I think it’s possible.”

“Shit,” said Beauvoir, leaning back in the taxi seat and staring ahead. His mind working rapidly. “The problem will be understanding the report and emails well enough to spot a flaw.”

“We need a financial analyst and an engineer,” said Gamache, staring at Beauvoir.

“Oui.” And his eyes widened. “Jesus. Like Stephen and Plessner.”

Gamache’s phone vibrated. It was Mrs. McGillicuddy.

Jean-Guy could hear her voice, high-pitched with anxiety.

She was at Stephen’s office with Isabelle Lacoste—

Just then his own phone vibrated. It was Lacoste.

Both Stephen’s office and home had been broken into, the security systems circumvented.

“They’ve thrown things everywhere,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy.

“Agents at his home report it’s been searched, too,” said Lacoste, her voice calm, stating facts. “I can’t tell what they were looking for, but seems like papers.”

“Did they find them?” Jean-Guy asked.

“I’m not sure. The place is a mess.”

“Ask her about his safety-deposit boxes,” said Armand, covering the mouthpiece of his phone. In the background, Jean-Guy could hear Mrs. McGillicuddy still talking. Upset. Shocked.

“I heard,” said Lacoste. “We’re going there next. Mrs. McGillicuddy has the card that’ll get us in.”

“The JSPS card, oui,” said Beauvoir. “Let us know.”

He hung up. Armand was talking with Mrs. McGillicuddy, who’d calmed down a little. As he listened, Gamache pulled out his notebook and made notes.

Thanking her, he hung up.

“The code to Stephen’s laptop. Claude wanted it.”

“Are you going to give it to him?”

“I’ll have to, yes. Let’s just hope Stephen didn’t have anything important on his laptop.”