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This wasn’t the first time that thought had occurred to Gamache. But would anyone really be that foolish? Dropping tons of an invasion species on a nation’s breadbasket might bring that country to its knees. But then how do you stop it?

Be it bug or seed, the damned thing would run rampant across borders until it came to the very country that had been stupid enough to deploy it. But Armand knew better than most how much damage stupidity could do.

“What you say might be true, but the seed alone tells them nothing. And the documents, without a sample of the seed, are also worthless. For any possible weapon to work, they’d need both.”

It was possible Clybourne and Morrow had half the puzzle. The research that told them what the plant would do. But they didn’t have the plant itself.

And he found himself in the same position. Possessing half the puzzle. The other half. They had the plant but not the documents. Whoever put the two together …

Of course the danger these days wasn’t necessarily from power-mad governments but terrorists. Yes, if Miss Wolcott’s Ghost was a viable threat, a bioweapon, they would be the buyer.

He kept approaching this possibility, then backing away. Dismissing it as too far-fetched. Something out of Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner.

“What did Jeanette Bouchard tell you about this assignment?”

Armand had given Comeau enough time. Now he needed to hear what he knew.

“Nothing.”

Gamache stopped and turned. He still couldn’t look at Comeau without feeling his stomach lurch. “I’m tired and stressed and my patience is at an end. No more games. I need to know.”

“I swear. She just said it was big and would help.”

“Help in what way?”

“I think she thought there was money involved.”

“How? Who was her client? Was it Fillmore?”

“She didn’t say. All I know is she was more and more upset. Anxious. She finally pushed me away. And then she disappeared. I should’ve insisted. I…”

Students peddled past on their bikes, gowns flapping behind them. Little bells trilling a warning to the pedestrians.

There must have been a special dinner, thought Armand, remembering his own time at Christ’s College. So long ago. But some things didn’t change. It was both comforting and a bit worrisome.

“You know something. I need to hear it, before someone else is hurt, or killed. You understand?”

“I’ve told you all I know.” Comeau’s voice was high, whiny.

“No, you’ve told me half-truths and lies. And that’s another one. The truth, now.”

But Comeau just stood under the streetlamp, staring at the cobblestones beneath his feet.

“Bon,” said Gamache. “We’ll catch the first flight back to Montréal in the morning. Get some sleep. Do not leave your room.”

Comeau nodded, but his eyes were vacant.

Once in his room, Armand called Reine-Marie to discuss their days. It was midnight in Cambridge, but just seven in the evening at home.

“I was about to take the dogs and Gracie out for a walk, then have dinner in the garden with Ruth. Greek salad and grilled peaches. What did you have for dinner? Wait, let me guess. Fish and chips.”

“And mushy peas.”

“You just like saying ‘mushy.’ Bet you didn’t eat them.”

He never did.

“When are you coming home?”