Lacoste, Beauvoir, and Gélinas stared at it, transfixed.
“Why’s he here if he doesn’t really teach?” Gélinas asked, once the drip dropped. In the background, they could hear Gamache still on the phone with his wife.
“He designs tactical exercises for the cadets,” whispered Beauvoir. “A series of ‘what ifs.’ For the freshmen, it starts as written examples and tests, but then they progress to the role-playing and mock-ups. We’ve built scale models for the exercises, but it goes beyond that, to questions of how to handle different situations. It’s new.”
“Commander Gamache brought that in?”
“Oui. And the man with it. The idea is to teach the cadets other ways of handling situations besides force. But if they have to use force, they need to know the most effective way to do it.”
Deputy Commissioner Gélinas nodded approval.
“Had the Commander ever met this Charpentier before hiring him?”
“Oh, yes, Hugo Charpentier was one of Monsieur Gamache’s own recruits into the S?reté, years ago.”
“He’s a S?reté officer?” asked Gélinas.
“Was.”
“One of Monsieur Gamache’s protégés?”
“At first, but then someone else took him under his wing,” said Beauvoir. “When Charpentier showed a knack for tactics.”
“Really? Who?”
“Superintendent Brébeuf.”
Gélinas nodded, tucking that information away. He looked at Charpentier’s wheelchair. “Wounded?”
“No. He’s got a condition like Parkinson’s, I believe,” said Beauvoir. “Some days he can walk with canes, but most of the time he gets around in the chair. Easier and faster.”
“Did you work with him at the S?reté?”
“Non, he didn’t stay long. He left and set up his own company. Works as a consultant. He must be very good,” said Beauvoir, “or Monsieur Gamache wouldn’t have brought him here.”
“He looks terrified.”
“Yes, he always does.”
“But how can a man who is permanently afraid teach attack techniques and strategies?”
“Who knows airplanes better than someone afraid to fly?” asked Beauvoir, and had the pleasure of seeing the Deputy Commissioner’s brow rise.
“I’d like to see it for myself,” said Gamache. “I’ll be home later tonight and will bring the original map.”
Gamache hung up and returned to the table.
“My apologies.”
“Everything all right at home?” Lacoste asked.
“Oh, yes.”
“They found a map?”
All eyes turned to Professor Charpentier. Sweat was now pooling at his collar, and as he spoke it overflowed down the sodden shirt.
The words seemed wrung out of him.
At that moment, Gélinas sat forward as though someone had punched the back of his chair.
“Wait a minute. You’re H. E. Charpentier?”
Professor Charpentier ignored him and continued to look at Gamache, who nodded.
“Actually, the map was found a few months ago in the wall of an old building in a little village in the Eastern Townships,” said Gamache. “My village, as it turns out. But now they’ve also found an image of it in a stained-glass window in the local chapel.”
“Really?” said Lacoste, who was familiar with the church and the memorial window. “That’s strange. The same map we found—”
“In the wall, yes,” said Gamache, cutting her off.
Another plump drip was making its way down Charpentier’s cheek. And into the crevice of his smile.
“That Charpentier?” Gélinas whispered to Beauvoir, who nodded. “But he’s a recluse. Good God, I’ve hired him as a consultant in tactics, but he won’t even talk on the phone. Only by email. I thought he was older. And bigger.”
Charpentier rolled his chair a millimeter closer to the conference table. Either not hearing what Gélinas said, or not caring.
“That’s interesting. Important maps are sometimes found in attics or the back of an old desk, but you say this one was in a wall?”
“I don’t think it has any historic value, or even monetary,” said Gamache. “It’s just a curiosity.”
“It is that,” agreed Charpentier, glancing from Gamache to Lacoste.
“Oui. Now,” Gamache turned to the others, “can we get back to the matter at hand?”
“Where is it now?” asked Charpentier.
“What?”
“The map.”
“I have the original,” said Gamache, clearly trying to be patient while redirecting the conversation. “I can show it to you later, if you like.”
“You say ‘original.’ That means there’re copies?”
“I’m sorry, professor,” said Gamache, “but how can any of this possibly matter?”
“That’s what I’m wondering.” He was studying Gamache in a disconcerting manner. Talk of maps had opened the verbal floodgates. “You seem to think it is, or you wouldn’t have spent such a long time on the phone discussing it.”
“Perhaps we can talk about this later,” said Gamache.
“I’d like that.”
Charpentier pushed away from the table.
“But we’re not finished,” said Gélinas. “We have more questions.”
“No you don’t,” said the young man. “All the pertinent ones have been asked. And I have nothing to add to this investigation. If I did, I’d tell you. Anything beyond this is a waste of time.”
Beauvoir, who’d had respect for this strange man, now found himself developing a slight affection for him.
Charpentier sat there, drenched in his own fluids. Skinny. Sallow. Out of his depth among these highly functioning officers. And completely unaware of it.
As far as Charpentier was concerned, he was the normal one.
Beauvoir admired that, though he did not agree with it.
“There is one last question,” said Gamache. “And then I’ll show you the original map.”
There was now a very slight smile on the tactician’s face, as though he approved of Gamache’s use of the age-old quid pro quo.
“What did you think of Serge Leduc?”
“I thought he was a stupid man. I thought he was better suited to be a shoe salesman.”
Deputy Commissioner Gélinas laughed and then stopped when Charpentier looked at him.
“You don’t agree?”
“Non, non, it’s not that. What you said was funny.”
“Really? Professor Leduc would have been good at selling footwear. High end. Convincing people to buy something that would eventually hurt them. And to pay good money to do it. He was a sadist.”
“Could he have run a corruption ring?” Gélinas asked.
“Never. He’d have been caught immediately. He didn’t think two or three steps ahead. A shoe salesman doesn’t need to.”
“Ironic really,” said Lacoste, though only Gamache caught what she meant and smiled.
“But the head of the S?reté Academy should,” said Charpentier, looking at Gamache.
“Where would you look for his killer?” asked Isabelle Lacoste.
“Matthew 10:36,” said Charpentier, after thinking for a moment. “Yes. That’s where I’d start. Now, can we go?”
“I’ll meet you in my rooms in fifteen minutes,” said Gamache.
“Strange man,” said Lacoste as the door closed.
“A genius,” said the RCMP officer. “And yes, a strange man.” He thought for a moment. “A person like that could do a lot of damage, non?”
“You think he was involved in Leduc’s death?” asked Chief Inspector Lacoste.
“Or the corruption. Or both. Don’t you?” He’d looked at Gamache as he spoke. “Isn’t that why you brought him here? A professor who doesn’t really teach? A brilliant tactician? So you could observe him? You brought all the suspects together. Leduc, Brébeuf, Charpentier. And then watched what would happen. But you made a mistake. One I’ve heard assigned to you in the past. You thought you were smarter than them. Than him. You thought you could control the situation. But you couldn’t. It’s spun out of control, Commander. And he knows it. That wasn’t an observation, about needing to think a few steps ahead, it was a joke. He was mocking you.”
Gamache got up.
“You might be right,” he said as he made for the door. “Time will tell.”
“Time has spoken. Did you not hear it? And in case you missed it, it dropped a body into your great experiment, Monsieur Gamache. And if you don’t get control soon, there will be more.”