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“And you, Jean-Guy, need to get up to Archambault and interview Marcus Lauzon again. Get him to admit the payments and tell us who they were from.” Armand leaned forward, his eyes intense. “I think that’s our best hope, our way in. We just need one of those corporations. One Chief Executive. One comptroller to testify. One witness.”
“But they’d never admit it,” said Lacoste. “For no other reason than that they’re terrified of Moretti. They know what he’ll do to them, and their families, if they talk.”
“We need to convince them that he’s going to kill them anyway. Their only hope is to help us stop this.”
“But why would Lauzon give us a name now?” asked Jean-Guy. “He’s denied everything so far.”
“Why would he warn us about FEDS?” asked Gamache.
It was rhetorical. He really didn’t know. What he did know was something no one else had seen: the former Deputy Prime Minister’s eyes as he’d stumbled into Armand and whispered his warning about FEDS. Armand knew terror when he saw it, and he’d seen it then, in that split second.
“Lauzon obviously didn’t want Tardiff to hear him,” said Beauvoir.
“That must be a mind-fuck,” said Nichol. “Trying to throw suspicion on her.”
“Maybe,” admitted Gamache. “You’ve worked closely with Chief Inspector Tardiff. What do you think of her?”
“You’re asking if she can be trusted?” There was silence while Agent Nichol considered. “I would. I do.”
Gamache turned to Isabelle. “Agents are still watching Margaux Chalifoux’s home?”
“Oui,” said Lacoste. “They reported a few minutes ago. She isn’t up yet.”
Gamache looked at his watch, then got up. “I need you to come with me. Jean-Guy?”
“I’ll head up to Lauzon.”
“What about me?” asked Nichol.
“You stay here.”
Of course, thought Nichol with a scowl.
“Keep trying to get into those last .family sites. They must be important if they’re so protected.”
She heaved a sigh so forceful, her lips fluttered in a raspberry.
“Gamache thinks there’s a chance you’re working for Moretti,” said Nichol.
“And you?”
“No. I know you’re trying to stop him. I called because I don’t think Gamache will tell you, and you need to know what we’ve found.”
“Go on.”
When Yvette Nichol finished, Tardiff said, “So he has the laptop. No, he didn’t tell me. Has he found Charles Langlois’s map?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck. I need that password.”
“Oui, patronne.” Though there had been a slight hesitation.
“You aren’t doubting me, are you? Gamache hasn’t gotten into your head.”
“Non, patronne.” Yvette Nichol hung up and hit send on the password, then sat back in her chair in the Gamaches’ study and took a sip of the Gamaches’ coffee, then looked at the remains of the Cap’n Crunch cereal with chocolate milk Madame Gamache had made her. And Yvette Nichol wondered why she felt so uncomfortable.
Then she rifled through the desk and found the copy of Charles Langlois’s second notebook.
