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“Those I have, yes. But that’s different. You didn’t let me finish. I have no ideology beyond finding and defending that spot between freedom and safety.”

She was quiet for a moment. “And you think the talk violates that?”

“Do you know what she’s saying? What she advocates?”

“In broad strokes, yes.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

“Again, it’s not for me to approve or disapprove. If we only ever allow lectures on topics we’re ‘okay’ with, the University wouldn’t be much of a place of learning, now would it? We’d never explore new ideas. Radical ideas. Even what might be considered dangerous ideas. We’d just keep going around and around saying and hearing the same old thing. The echo chamber. No, this university is open to new ideas.”

“This isn’t a new idea.” He stared at her. “It sounds like you agree with Professor Robinson.”

“I agree with the importance of dissenting voices, of unpopular stands, of even dangerous thoughts as long as they don’t cross a line.”

“And what’s the line?”

“That’s for you to decide, Chief Inspector.”

“You’re abdicating your moral responsibility to the University and giving it to the police?”

Their voices were rising, not quite shouting at each other, but intense. They were, Armand knew, on the verge of crossing a line themselves.

Indeed, Colette had crossed it when she’d called him a coward. And he might have just crossed it too when he accused her of abdicating her responsibility. But there was a reason he’d said it.

“You’re advocating an abuse of power,” she said. “Stifling free speech. And that’s called tyranny. Watch yourself, Chief Inspector. You’re on very thin ice. I thought you would assure that this event would go on safely. But now you’re sounding like a fascist.”

Gamache paused before he spoke. “You’re the reason I was given this assignment?”

The Chancellor realized she’d been provoked into saying too much. And, looking at the man across from her, she realized he’d almost certainly done it on purpose. Goaded, pushed. Prodded. Until she’d lashed out. Lost sight of the line she’d set for herself.

But she suspected she was already off balance before he’d arrived. Unsure of the stand she was taking, of the ground she stood on. Unsure she’d done the right thing. In fact, very much afraid she had not.

But it was too late. Still, he didn’t know everything.

Now she inclined her head, raising it again in acknowledgment.

“Was I wrong to ask for you?” she said. “I thought you’d be fair and professional. But maybe that’s asking too much. Given your personal circumstances, maybe you’ll find it difficult to protect Professor Robinson, if it comes to that.”

Now she really had crossed a line, but this time she’d done it on purpose. To shift the focus. She could see the shock on his face, quickly replaced by anger.

“I’m sorry,” she said, almost immediately, though her sincerity was in doubt. “I shouldn’t have said that. But it’s a fair question.”

“It is not, Madame Chancellor, and you know it. You just dragged my family into it. You accused me of tyranny. Even allowing a person to be hurt, maybe killed, because I don’t happen to agree with their ideology.”

“No. I accused you of being human. Of defending your family. And while we’re at it, you accused me of allowing thousands of young men and women to be compromised because I don’t want to get involved.”

They stared at each other. Seething. Each had lost their hard-won composure.

My God, thought Gamache, pulling back from the edge. This’s how it starts. This’s what Abigail Robinson does, even from a distance. Just discussing her can sow the seeds of anger. And, with it, fear.

And yes. He was afraid. That her statistics and graphs would take root. That people would come to believe, to support, the insupportable.

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Colette. What I said went too far.”

She was quiet. Not yet ready, it seemed, to offer her own apology.

“Why did the University agree to this booking?” he asked.