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Beauvoir raised his brows. “Has that happened often?”

“Once. And two kidnapping attempts. We also get a lot of protesters. Our clientele are rich and powerful. We take security seriously.”

“As I saw,” said Gamache. “Your people came up quickly, to see who we were.”

“Yes, well, not fast enough. We’re looking into that. Had you been intent on harm, you might have gotten away with it.”

But looking at the man, she understood how he and his wife got past security in the lobby. He managed to look both authoritative and trustworthy. Here was a man who naturally belonged.

It would take an extraordinary person to challenge him. And, once challenged, to stop him.

Now, the other fellow? She looked at Beauvoir. Handsome, she thought. But there was something almost wild about him. As though he was just pretending to be civilized.

Yes, he’d be stopped. Though if he wanted to get by, or through, their security, she had no doubt he would do so. But it wouldn’t be subtle and it wouldn’t be pretty.

On the screen, they watched Plessner take the same route as Stephen. A minute later he entered the suite.

Madame Béland put it into double speed. The beers arrived. The time stamp said 7:14 when the door opened again and Plessner stepped out. At the door Stephen said something.

They zoomed in.

“Looks like,” said Beauvoir, leaning close, “‘Good luck.’ But I can’t make out the rest.”

“Monsieur Horowitz is saying, ‘ Text me when you have it.’” They looked at Madame Béland, who explained. “You get good at lip-reading in my job.”

“Stephen checked his phone a few times over dinner,” said Jean-Guy. “That explains why.”

He also, Armand knew, had his phone in his hand when he was hit.

It became even more frustrating that the chip was smashed and they couldn’t retrieve his messages. Had Plessner managed to get something off before he was killed?

On the screen, they followed Monsieur Plessner out of the hotel. And to his death.

Gamache’s brow furrowed. He always found it moving to see someone in the final images. Oblivious to what was awaiting them.

They continued to watch the door, but no one followed him.

On the exterior camera the doorman waved over a taxi and Plessner got in.

At 7:53 Stephen himself left. He’d changed into a slightly more formal suit. Before getting into a taxi, he checked his phone.

“Is there a way to know if the video has been tampered with?” Gamache asked.

The GM looked at him, astonished, but didn’t argue the point. “Well, yes. There’s a time stamp generator. If it was edited, there’d be a slight fluctuation when it was reset. The time would appear to be correct, but the video would speed up slightly to catch up with the piece that was removed.”

“Can you check, please?”

“It’ll take a few minutes.”

While Madame Béland did that, Jean-Guy brought out his phone and Armand nodded.

Leaving her in the living room, they went upstairs to the study.

Armand closed the door. Jean-Guy tapped his phone, and the video of the disappearing messages began to play.

Reine-Marie picked up the phone on the first ring.

“Annie?”