But nothing happened. He pulled it again. But by then it was too late, they were on him, Isabelle Lacoste tackling him, and Beauvoir piling on.
Armand Gamache, a few paces behind the younger agents, pulled out his device and turned on the flashlight app. And there, in the beam, was their murderer. The man who’d searched, like a pirate for treasure, like a leech for someone else’s blood, for decades. And when he’d finally found Project Babylon, all it brought was death.
In the beam of light was Brian Fitzpatrick.
CHAPTER 44
Adam Cohen had arrived back and now sat in the bistro by the fire, picking the label off his beer. He’d been offered a stiff cognac, and had taken a sip because Gamache had one and it looked so good. But while it looked like maple syrup, it tasted like turpentine.
They had the bistro to themselves. It was late and Olivier and Gabri had cleaned up and left, handing the key to Gamache with the request that they lock up when they were done.
Now it was just the S?reté officers, helping themselves to the chips and mixed nuts and the drinks.
Jean-Guy tossed a birch log onto the fire and the embers exploded then drifted up the chimney. They stared, mesmerized.
“But why didn’t the gun fire?” Adam Cohen asked. “Brian was pointing it right at you.”
“Seems the firing mechanism was missing from that too,” said Lacoste. “We knew he didn’t have a gun, and we suspected he’d look for one in the Gamaches’ home, so Inspector Beauvoir deliberately left his behind, in his nightstand.”
“Why not just take out the bullets?”
“He might’ve checked,” said Beauvoir. “But no one thinks to check the firing pin.”
“We learned that trick from Guillaume Couture,” said Isabelle Lacoste. “He took the firing mechanism out of the Supergun for the same reason. So that no one else could use it.”
“He had a conscience after all,” said Gamache. “But it took the murder of Gerald Bull for him to come to his senses and see that this was not just a job, not some challenge or a problem to be solved as elegantly as possible. What he’d created would kill hundreds of thousands of people.”
“The plans were missing,” said Jean-Guy. “He might’ve thought Bull destroyed them himself, or he might’ve even suspected that Fleming had stolen them.”
“If he did suspect, he probably didn’t want to confront the man,” said Isabelle.
“Why not?” asked Cohen.
“Would you?” she asked.
The young agent shook his head. He still looked pale and shaken from his encounter with John Fleming.
“All Dr. Couture could do to disable Big Babylon was take out the firing mechanism,” said Lacoste. “He must’ve taken it home and made it look like two separate pieces. He told his niece about it, but Antoinette didn’t pay much attention until Laurent found the gun, and then was killed.”
“But what about Brian?” said Cohen. “How did he know about Dr. Couture and Project Babylon and Antoinette?”
“He told us they’d been together for ten years,” said Beauvoir. “That meant they met in 2005. What else happened that year?”
“Guillaume Couture died,” said Lacoste. “Antoinette moved into his home, and the obit appeared in the McGill Alumni News. Brian Fitzpatrick was an alumnus. He admits now he recognized Gerald Bull in the photo.”
“But how did he even know about Gerald Bull?” asked Cohen. “He’s not a physicist.”
“No, but he was an opportunist,” said Lacoste. “He’d become fascinated by the story of Dr. Bull. In the interrogation tonight, Brian admitted he found out about Gerald Bull and Project Babylon while researching the area for a surveying course. Baby Babylon was mentioned in some obscure publications, and on digging deeper he found vague references to another possible missile launcher Bull had planned. Bigger, more powerful.”
“Worth a shit-load of money,” said Beauvoir.
“What started as a lark, a kind of hobby to find out more about Gerald Bull and this secret testing ground, turned into an obsession,” said Lacoste.
“And when he saw the obit,” said Beauvoir, “and realized Dr. Couture must’ve not only worked with Bull, but been close enough to have been with him in Brussels, that’s when Brian decided to come down and make the acquaintance of Couture’s only living relative.”
“Antoinette,” said Cohen. “Ten years ago.”
“He’s told us everything now,” said Lacoste. “With the plans gone and the gun found there’s nothing left for him.”
The Nature of the Beast: A Chief Inspector Gamache Novel
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