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“This’s ridiculous.” Gamache stood up. “There’s no way Woodford, or any Prime Minister, could make a power grab. Even if his party would stand for it, the premiers would never allow it. Neither would the electorate. You don’t give the people enough credit.”
“You don’t give fear enough credit.”
“You’re desperate. Making up conspiracies, throwing a good man—”
“To the wolves?” said Lauzon with a smile.
“You’re wasting our time. When I invited you down here, I actually thought you might’ve been telling the truth. That you were set up. That the person behind the plots is still out there and active. But now I see I was wrong. Get up. You’re going back. And this time not into solitary.”
They all knew what that meant. Gamache might as well have pulled out a gun and shot Lauzon between those steady eyes.
The former politician paled, though it might’ve just been the dying of the light. Getting to his feet, Lauzon stepped toward Gamache but stumbled over a rock. Instinctively Gamache reached out and grabbed him to keep him from falling. As he did, Lauzon whispered directly into his ear, “FEDS.”
Armand righted the man, but before he let him go, he said, quietly, “What does that mean?”
But instead of answering, Lauzon simply straightened his clothing and said, audibly, “Merci, Armand. I think you know the truth when you hear it.”
He gave Gamache a warning look.
“If it’s the truth, and you’ve apparently known it all along,” said Gamache, taking that warning onboard, “why not say something before now? Why suddenly tell us that Prime Minister Woodford is the Black Wolf?”
“Did I say that?”
Gamache turned and began walking away.
“I was waiting for you to ask, Armand,” Lauzon called after him, a very slight whiff of desperation in his voice.
It was such an extraordinary thing to say, such an unlikely thing to say, that it arrested Armand. He turned and for a moment the two men, the two combatants, stared at each other.
“Why me?”
“Because you hate me, and with reason. Just as I hate you, with reason. Still, in the face of all my attacks, you wouldn’t yield. You held your ground. You’re the only one I can trust with the information. To do what’s necessary. To not yield.”
It was, Armand and Jean-Guy both knew, exactly the same reasoning Jeanne Caron had given for approaching Gamache about the poisoning plot.
It proved true then. Could this also be true? Could this rancid man be telling the truth about the Prime Minister?
“Why the code ‘Black Wolf’?” asked Lauzon. “What’s it supposed to mean?”
Gamache considered not telling him, but thought it would be interesting to see Lauzon’s reaction to the story.
“It’s an old Cree legend about a chief who had two wolves fighting inside him, tearing him apart. The grey wolf wanted the chief to be compassionate, to lead with fairness and be forgiving of his enemies. To strive for peace. For reconciliation. The other, the black wolf, warned him that he’d lose everything, would be slaughtered, if he did that. It would be weakness. He needed to make examples of his enemies, to exact revenge. To make examples of anyone who crossed, who even questioned him. To forgive nothing. To be brutal and rule with terror.”
Armand stared at Lauzon, who seemed to have lost interest. It was Evelyn Tardiff who spoke, quietly asking Beauvoir, “Which one won?”
When he was silent, she answered it herself. “The black wolf.”
“Not necessarily.” Lauzon was listening after all. “It’s not over yet, is it. No one has won. Yet.”
At the car, the cuffs were put back on Lauzon, and Armand held the back door open.
“Merci.” He held Armand’s eyes, and in them he still saw kindness. And knew who he was actually seeing. “Maybe this meeting did serve its purpose. I wonder if salvation is possible.”
“That wasn’t the purpose of the meeting.”
“Are you so sure? What other purpose could there possibly be? If not for me, then maybe for you.”
Before getting into the vehicle that would return him to prison, Marcus Lauzon had stopped to look around, buying precious moments of freedom. Though he knew, as did Armand, that no one was completely free. There were always limits.
