Georges Renard. The Premier of Québec now, but then a young engineer. If Renard knew how to put the dam up, he also knew how to bring it down.
Pierre Arnot, an officer on the Cree reserve then but on track to become the Chief Superintendent of the S?reté, had created the rage and despair necessary to drive two young Cree to an act of terrible domestic terrorism. And Renard had given them the vital information.
They’d almost succeeded.
But to what end? Why would the elected leader of the province not only destroy the dam that provided power, but in doing so wipe out towns and villages downriver, killing thousands.
To what end?
Gamache had hoped Arnot could tell him. But more than the why, Gamache needed to know what the next target was. What was their Plan B? Gamache knew two things. It was soon, and it was big.
Armand Gamache had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The construction contracts to repair the tunnels, bridges, and overpasses hadn’t been done. In years and years. Billions of dollars in contracts had been awarded and put in pockets as the road system deteriorated, to the point of collapse.
Chief Inspector Gamache was almost certain the plan was to hurry that collapse. To bring down a tunnel. A bridge. A massive cloverleaf.
But to what end?
Again Gamache had to remind himself that the reason was far less important at the moment than the target. The attack was imminent, he knew. Within hours, almost certainly. He’d presumed the target was in Montréal, but it could also be in Quebec City. The capital. In fact, it could be anywhere in Québec.
There was one more message from the zoo, this one from Jér?me Brunel.
Audrey Villeneuve worked for the Ministry of Transportation in Montréal. Clerical.
He thought for a moment before writing the reply. Just two words. He hit send, started the car, and left the penitentiary behind.
*
“The Granby Zoo?” asked Lambert. “They’re getting in through the archives of the zoo. We’ve got them.”
Over the speakerphone in his office Sylvain Francoeur could hear the tap, tap, tap as Chief Inspector Lambert hit keys. Rapid footsteps chasing the intruder.
He punched the speakerphone off when Tessier entered his office.
“I was on my way to that village when we picked up Gamache’s vehicle and cell phone.”
“He’s left the village?”
Tessier nodded. “He went to the SHU. We got there a few minutes ago, but missed him.”
Francoeur shot out of his chair. “He went inside?”
He was shrieking at Tessier so loudly he could feel the skin of his throat rip away. He half expected to spew flesh all over the imbecile in front of him.
“We didn’t expect him to leave the village,” said Tessier. “We actually thought he’d given his car and cell phone to someone else, as a decoy, to draw us away, but then we realized the car was at the SHU. We accessed the security cameras and saw it was Gamache.”
“You’re a fucking moron.” Francoeur leaned across his desk. “Does he know?”
Francoeur was glaring at him and Tessier felt his heart stop for a moment.
Tessier nodded. “He knows the man in the SHU isn’t Arnot. But that doesn’t get him any closer.”
Tessier himself had taken care of Arnot, as Arnot should have taken care of himself years before. A bullet to the brain.
“And where’s Gamache now?” Francoeur demanded.
“Coming toward Montréal, sir. Heading for the Jacques Cartier Bridge. We’re on him now. We won’t lose him.”
“Of course you won’t fucking lose him,” snapped Francoeur. “He doesn’t want to be lost. He wants us to follow him.”
He’s heading to the Jacques Cartier Bridge into east-end Montréal, thought Francoeur, his mind racing. Which means he’s probably coming here. Are you that bold, Armand? Or that stupid?
“There’s something else, sir,” said Tessier, looking down at his notebook, not daring to look into those heart-stopping eyes. “The Brunels aren’t in Vancouver.”
“Of course they aren’t.” Francoeur punched the speakerphone back on. “Lambert? Francoeur. Dr. Jér?me Brunel’s the one who’s hacked us.”
Lambert’s tinny voice came through. “No, sir. Not Brunel. He tripped the alarm a few days ago, right?”
“Right,” said Francoeur.
“Well, the person I’m chasing is far more clever. Brunel might be one of the hackers, but I think I know who the other one is.”
“Who?”
“Agent Yvette Nichol.”
“Who?”
“She worked with Gamache for a while, but he fired her. Put her in the basement.”
“Wait, I know her,” said Tessier. “In that monitoring room. Awful little shithead.”
“That’s her,” said Lambert. As she spoke they could still hear her fingers on the keyboard. Running Agent Nichol to ground. “I brought her to Cyber Crimes but she didn’t work out. Too damaged. I sent her back.”
“It’s her?” asked Francoeur.
“I think so.”
“Meet me in the sub-basement.”