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“So, if not you, then who?”

“Think. Who could have placed those documents in my desk? Who had access to my accounts and my diary? Who could have set up those meetings with Joe Moretti in Sainte-Émiline and made sure I was photographed? And made sure Gamache saw them?”

Beauvoir remained silent. But he was now in the game. It didn’t take much to arrive at the answer.

“Jeanne Caron.”

Lauzon nodded. “My Chief of Staff, my longtime assistant and confidante.”

“And a man’s foes shall be they of his own household,” muttered Jean-Guy.

“What was that?” Lauzon asked.

“Matthew 10:36. Something the Chief Inspector learned from his first boss in the Sûreté and passes on to all his agents.”

“I wish he’d told me.”

“Jeanne Caron,” Beauvoir whispered.

“I’m a shit, I know that. I’ve bribed and bullied and threatened. I’ve done terrible things. Broken all sorts of laws. But I’m nothing compared to her.”

“Why’s everyone staring at us?”

Shona tilted her head toward the crowd in the lounge.

Sure enough, one by one, almost everyone had turned toward them, then quickly looked away.

“Are we suddenly naked?” Shona actually looked down at her fully clothed body.

“I think this’s why.” Armand showed them his phone. Reine-Marie had sent him a message.

“Oh, shit,” said Isabelle. “Someone’s posted that we believe the US is about to invade Canada.”

“Not ‘we.’ You.” Shona looked at Gamache, then took out her phone.

“There’re calls for your resignation, patron,” said Lacoste, now on her own phone. “Saying this proves you’re incompetent. That you’re delusional and dangerous.”

“Really? The posts I’m reading have a different take,” said Shona.

The two Sûreté officers turned to her, hopeful despite themselves.

“They say you’re just plain loony. Too many knocks to the head.” She looked at him. “They’re not wrong. Unfortunately, in this case, you’re actually telling the truth. But why would they put this out there? Why admit it?” She opened her eyes wide. “Ooooh, I see what they’re doing. The clever fucks.”

Armand was nodding. The fact he was being portrayed as incompetent, perhaps even crazy, wasn’t necessarily new or worrisome. What was new was that they were using the truth against them. Turning it into something ludicrous. Laughable.

So that when he did sound the alarm, no one would believe it.

“They’ve grabbed the narrative,” said Shona. “And twisted it.”

“The Ministry of Truth,” said Gamache. “This time actually telling the truth.”

“Ah,” said Shona with a small appreciative laugh. “Nineteen Eighty-Four.”

“This must’ve been put out in a hurry,” said Lacoste. “They might not have covered their tracks as thoroughly as before. We might be able to trace it back.”

Gamache and Lacoste exchanged glances, then he sent off a message to Yvette Nichol.

If Nichol was sending information to Chief Inspector Tardiff, as he believed she was, and if Tardiff really was working for Moretti, as he was afraid she was, they were well and truly in the merde. This would just hurry it along.