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Then he turned to Arbour. “What’s GHS Engineering building in Luxembourg?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “It’s a funicular, isn’t it.”

“But there’s no story about a funicular, Armand,” said Pinot.

“Non,” he said. “Not yet. But there is that.”

It was a news brief, about an elevator that had plummeted thirty-two stories, in Chicago, killing the two people inside.

He got up and looked at his watch. Just over three hours left.

Séverine Arbour saw him coming and backed away, but he walked right by her, as though in a trance. And began pacing the reading room. Almost prowling. Like a great cat in captivity. Looking for the way out. Up and back. Up and back.

What did Claude Dussault say?

Think. Think.

Calm. Calm. Think. Think.

With every step forward he threw his mind back. To what the head of the Préfecture de Paris had said as they’d sat in the corridor of the section d’urgence.

Then, later, over the body of Alexander Plessner.

In his office at the 36 and in the suite at the Lutetia.

Their dinner the night before.

His conversation at the fountain.

Their exchange in the elevator of Stephen’s building as they went up to see Daniel and his captors.

Armand put his hands in his pockets. His right hand felt the gun. It had almost certainly been placed in his apartment by Claude Dussault. Or on Dussault’s orders.

In the other he felt the nickels. Stuck together with a magnet more powerful than anything else known to engineers. Known to engineering and design.

They’d been tossed into the fountain. By Dussault.

Everywhere Gamache looked, there was the Prefect.

Despite his efforts not to be manipulated, was that what was happening? In thinking he was carving his own path, was he really only doing their bidding? Dussault’s bidding?

He walked on, in the dim room, lit by pools of light at each reading station. Time was short, but he couldn’t be rushed. Patience. Patience. With patience comes power.

He needed to think. Think.

Dussault, in what appeared to be a rant against Gamache’s arrogance, had demanded to know what was different between the deaths GHS had caused and what other industries did. Killing people by the tens of thousands and getting away with it. In full view.

Airlines that flew planes they knew were dangerous.

Pharmaceuticals that allowed dangerous drugs to remain in circulation.

The entire tobacco industry.

Elevators that plunged to the ground.

Engineers using faulty materials.

He stopped in his tracks and stared into the darkness. Then turned toward the others, sitting in the pools of light. Watching him.

Faulty materials.