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“I want to know what it was you passed to him.”

“Do you plan to beat it out of me?”

“God, no.” She looked horrified. “Ferguson was about to throw it away, then changed his mind. I suspect by now it’s ash.” Her intelligent eyes were studying him. “You need to tell me what it said. Quickly. Before they come for you.”

There was a beat as Gamache weighed the options. Then spoke. “It was an IP address and password.”

“You came here knowing your ID would be taken?” He nodded. “You wanted it taken. You did all that on purpose.”

“It served many purposes, but yes.”

While his voice was steady, his mind was racing, trying to work out what this could mean. He saw Shona watching him, worried. This was not how it was supposed to go. Their plan wasn’t so much unfolding as unraveling.

“It was your bad luck Ferguson was the one who found it,” said Trudel.

“Did Prime Minister Woodford see it?” His tone gave away none of his anxiety. Only Lacoste, standing beside him, could see his right hand closing into a loose fist.

“No.”

The fist relaxed.

Trudel turned to Shona. “You smuggled your phone into the meeting and live-streamed?”

“So it’s out there?” said Shona, excited. “Paul got it out?”

“Workman? Yes. It’s going viral, of course.”

While Shona laughed with relief, both Armand and Isabelle simply exhaled. One huge part accomplished.

“Did you really have to do that?” Giselle Trudel continued. “You’ve ruined the career, probably the life, of a decent man who made a mistake.”

“‘Mistake,’” said Shona. “Is that what you call it? And yes, I really had to do it. I’m a journalist. We witness, and we tell the world what we see. Until, that is, we’re stopped by a tyrant.”

“What we see is not always the whole picture. The Prime Minister isn’t a tyrant. He made a mistake when he ordered the guard to assault you. But you aren’t exactly blameless.” She turned to Gamache. “You set him up. It was a psychological and emotional sting operation. He’d just seen his friend and colleague, the American President, narrowly escape assassination. He was on edge and you pushed him over.”

“Are you practicing for the news conference?” Gamache asked.

“No. I’m simply telling you what I know to be the truth. Now it’s your turn. I want to see that IP address.”

Since the Rubicon was already crossed, Gamache walked over to the desk and wrote it out, along with the password. Then handed it to the cabinet minister.

“What will happen if I put it into my phone? Will this be treason? Will I be fired?”

“Treason? No. Fired? Almost certainly.”

“Where does it take me?”

All three continued to stare at her but said nothing.

“Is War Plan Red for real? Are the Americans really planning to annex Canada?”

“Annex?” said Shona. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”

“But they’d never get away with it,” said Trudel.

“You think not?” said Lacoste. “Who’ll stop them? You? You couldn’t even stop your own people from doing this.” She held out the bloody tissues.

The Minister opened her mouth, but no answer came out. Then she looked back down at the paper. And, making up her mind, she put in the internet address.