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He thought about taking a photo of the document, but if they were caught and his phone hacked, they’d know he and Marie Lauzon had the file. They’d be forced to give it up. He wasn’t sure how long either of them would stand up to torture.

Besides, even if he was able to send the photos of the documents to Jean-Guy and Isabelle, they would never be considered proof. Only the original would be accepted.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“Wait. Wait.” He was speaking to himself. “Wait…”

There might be a way. Not to get to Woodford—that would almost certainly fail, and they’d be caught in the attempt. And if they couldn’t get out, neither could the document. But there was something else they could do. He thought.

Think. Think it through. He stared at the file folder. Think.

The plan had been updated in the past year. It was detailed, and yet, finally, like many invasions, it came down to weather. Something the conspirators could not actually control. All they could do was wait for the right conditions.

He remembered the numbers on Charles Langlois’s map. The isobars.

“Come on.” There was urgency in her voice. “Waiting isn’t going to help. Let’s go!”

“Wait … wait…” He almost had it. There was one other thing, something he needed to—

And then it was there. FEDS.

She was pulling at his sleeve. Still he stared. And then he finally spoke.

“Where’s the corridor to the other building?”

“When the time comes, we won’t take it. There’s an unused tunnel that houses the electric cables and old pipes. We’ll take that. Later. First we need to get to the Prime Minister. Come on.”

“I’ll go with you to get him, but you need to show me the way to the tunnel.”

“In case I’m caught?”

“If you are, so am I. We can’t take this with us.” He held up the file. “We need to hide it, and the tunnel seems the best place. Then I need to get far enough up to send a couple of messages.”

“How long do we wait?” whispered Shona.

It was dank and cold beneath the stone bridge. They’d been there for twenty minutes, and there was no sign of Gamache.

“Longer.” Isabelle knew if he didn’t show soon, they’d have to leave. And leave him behind. It was no use all of them getting caught. Already they’d evaded one patrol, but eventually someone would look closer. Someone would find them.

The alarm had obviously been sounded. She wondered how Captain Pinsent was doing. Mostly she wondered about Armand.

Pulling out her phone, she wrote Jean-Guy and was about to hit send when Shona touched her arm.

“Gamache just wrote.”

Lacoste grabbed Shona’s phone. Thank God. But why would the Chief write Shona and not her? Was it a trick? Was he being forced? Or maybe it wasn’t from him at all.

But the short text contained their private code to identify themselves.

I’m FINE, the message began. It was him. And on his own phone. Which meant he’d run into Marie Lauzon. Or vice versa. And somehow he’d recovered his phone and, she hoped, her gun.

When she read it, Isabelle understood why he’d sent it to Shona. He almost certainly had very little time, maybe just enough for the one message. And it really was for the young journalist.

“I don’t understand why he wants me to do it,” said Shona.

“But can you?”

“Yes.”