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“What? That Moretti put out a hit on that kid? How’m I supposed to know?”
“Your informant?”
“You think Moretti tells my informant everything?”
“I think Moretti tells you everything.”
That sucked the air out of the room.
“What do you mean?” she finally managed to say.
He dropped his voice. “I know you’re the informant. You infiltrated Moretti’s organization during that arson investigation.”
She glared at him, suddenly afraid. She’d spent years hiding, and now she stood in this country kitchen, exposed.
“As Lauzon just reminded us, I was, briefly, the head of the Sûreté,” he explained. “I’d already guessed that you must have placed someone in the Moretti organization, but I wanted it confirmed. Being the Superintendent gave me access to certain files. I found the evidence.”
“There’s evidence?” she asked, forgetting to dodge the question.
“I destroyed it.”
Now she heaved a deep sigh. “Is that why I’m here?”
“I need to know what you know about what’s happening next. Moretti’s involved. You met him yesterday morning at the Jean-Talon market. What did he tell you?”
“Nothing. I haven’t heard anything. And why in the world would you think anything else is happening? It’s been wrapped up. Lauzon’s in prison.” She looked toward the doorway. “Or should be.”
“Why would they murder Frederick Castonguay unless it was to shut him up?” asked Gamache, choosing not to directly answer her question.
“They’re just cleaning up. Moretti’s a tidy man, hates loose ends. You do too, obviously. Castonguay must’ve been a loose end.”
“Exactly. But what did he know?”
“It can’t matter now. It’s over, Armand.” She looked at him more closely. “How did you know about my visit to the market?” When he didn’t answer, her eyes opened wide. “My own assistant? Nichol? She’s spying on me? For you?”
“I assigned her there, yes.”
“You say that like it’s reasonable to spy on a colleague, a friend.” She was staring at him in disbelief.
“If the murder of thousands of citizens was a prelude, what the hell’s next? I’ll do whatever’s necessary, including placing my own people in your department, to find out.”
“Fuck you, Armand. How dare you lecture me about duty. I’ve risked my life every day for decades to get close to that psychopath Moretti, and you’re on the verge of blowing it and getting me killed. Over some self-aggrandizing fantasy.”
Gamache glanced again at the door. They didn’t have much more time.
“Look, I’ll protect you any way I can—”
“I don’t need you to protect me, Armand. Just back off.”
“—and for what it’s worth, Nichol seems devoted to you. I think she instinctively trusts you.”
“You say she’s your agent?”
“Yes.”
“That didn’t stop her from saying you should’ve been killed in the treatment plant.” It was vindictive of her to tell him that. But she was angry and frightened and needed to spread the pain.
To her surprise he gave a gruff laugh. She wondered if he’d heard her right.
