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“Maybe. But he said if they really can predict it, they can control it.”

“Not necessarily,” said Lacoste. “Even if you knew for certain what was going to happen, some big event, could you change it? You can’t stop an earthquake or even a fire.”

“You might not be able to change it, but you might be able to change your own actions,” said Gamache. “If you knew a stock was going to go way up, you’d buy it. If you knew the winning lottery numbers, you’d get that ticket. If you knew a train was going to derail, you wouldn’t get on it. You’d try to warn people.”

“Okay, point taken,” said Isabelle. “But how does knowing where smoke from a forest fire is going to go change what you’d do? You couldn’t change the jet stream, could you?”

Now she looked worried. What horrific new technology had been created that could change the course of the atmosphere itself?

Gamache shook his head. “I don’t know.”

He seemed to be saying that a lot lately. Was admitting ignorance really the beginning of wisdom, or prelude to disaster?

“General Whitehead seemed to think that somehow FEDS was an incredibly powerful tool,” said Beauvoir. “But I can’t see how. Useful, maybe, but powerful?”

“There must be more,” said Gamache. “He must’ve told you more.”

“He did. He said he was afraid of what happens when this”—he picked up his glass of water—“runs out. What?”

Gamache was staring at the glass, his mouth partly open, though he did not seem to be breathing.

“Water.” Now he looked at them, his two most trusted colleagues. “What happens when water runs out? That’s what he said?”

Beauvoir nodded. “What is it?”

“Nothing good,” said Armand. “That’s the answer.”

CHAPTER 18

“Bert Whitehead knows, or suspects, something,” said Armand.

“If he does, the General wasn’t going to tell me,” Beauvoir said. “He expected you, patron.”

“I can’t cross the border,” said Gamache. “I don’t want any trail, any way for my movements to be tracked. And he can’t come up here for the same reason.”

How to meet in person without either of them crossing the border?

He was quiet for a moment. “There is one way.”

He sent an invitation to the chair of the Joint Chiefs. Bert Whitehead answered almost immediately. He was obviously expecting a message from the Chief Inspector. Though perhaps not this.

A ticket, Armand? You want me to see a play about someone named Billy Bishop? Whitehead wrote.

So, you know about Napoleon, but not Billy Bishop?

Well, Napoleon was the Emperor of France and I don’t think your Mr. Bishop was.

Come to the play and find out, my friend, wrote Armand. It’s a musical. I know you like them.

Even though they were using the secure messaging app, they were both being cautious. Keeping it light.

Armand stared at the three dots, undulating.

And finally: You’re wrong, Armand. I don’t like musicals.

Armand’s brows dropped in surprise. Bert was refusing?

I think you’ll like this one, he pounded out. It’s very catchy. He didn’t dare say more.