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Just as he went to put it back in his pocket, Girard reached out and bent Gamache’s hand back, almost breaking his fingers. Gamache winced and twisted, opening his hand and dropping the handkerchief.
Girard examined it. Nothing hidden in the folds. Then he tossed it back at Gamache.
He could have just asked to see it, Gamache knew, as he flexed his hand and replaced the handkerchief in his pocket. Or even snatched it away from him.
But instead, Thierry Girard had chosen to hurt. Not much, but even a little seemed to give Girard pleasure.
Here was a sadist with a gun, and Armand Gamache wondered just how much control Claude Dussault really did have over his second-in-command.
“You have until tomorrow morning at seven thirty to find whatever it is Stephen Horowitz has hidden,” said Dussault. “The GHS board meeting is at eight. We need it before then.”
“You’ve looked for it for weeks and haven’t found anything,” Gamache said. “But you want me to find it in hours?”
“I think you can do it,” said Dussault. “Given the motivation.”
Gamache looked at him with loathing. “If you really want me to succeed, I need more information. What’s GHS up to? I have to know what I’m looking for.”
“You’re smart,” said Dussault. “I think you’ll know it when you see it.” He looked at his watch. “It’s now ten fifty-three. You have almost nine hours.”
“I’ll need help. Someone needs to come with me.”
“Did you have someone in mind?” asked Dussault.
“Daniel.”
Dussault smiled. “Saw that coming, and no. He stays safe with us.”
“Then Beauvoir. Let me bring Beauvoir in. Together we have a chance.”
Dussault made a subtle gesture toward Girard, and the two men stepped away, to consult in a corner.
Watching them, Gamache could see that Dussault was definitely in charge, and had complete control over the brute Girard. What should have been a relief was actually even more alarming.
“You have your Beauvoir,” said Dussault, returning to them.
Gamache put out his hand for his phone, and as Girard gave it to him, he said, “Put it on speaker.”
Armand noticed that several calls and texts had come in from Reine-Marie. He was sorely tempted to read them, but knew he had to place the call first.
It rang only once before he heard Jean-Guy’s excited voice.
“Annie’s gone into labor. We’re heading to the hospital.”
The emotions were so strong, so conflicting, that for a moment Armand felt light-headed. As though he’d been spun in a centrifuge.
“Allô?” said Jean-Guy. “You still there?”
“Oui. Is Annie all right?”
“Hi, Dad,” came her voice. “I’m here in the car with Jean-Guy and Maman. You coming?”
“As soon as I can. I’m with Daniel and we’re just discussing our next step. Reine-Marie?”
“I’m here,” came her voice. “Everything okay with you? Daniel’s with you?”
Daniel called out, “Salut, Maman. Everything’s fine.”
Armand heard the cheerful tone coming from his bloodstained son. How could he possibly think he wasn’t brave?
