“I didn’t know what he was talking about, and he could see that. Finally he came right out and told me. He had cadets play Russian roulette with that revolver.”
He looked down at his hand, as though he still held the gun. And then he raised his eyes.
“I came to your rooms that night, after I left Leduc. I wanted to tell you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I thought by our conversation that you already knew. When I asked what you were going to do about Leduc, you told me to worry about my side of the street, and you’d worry about yours. I took that as a sign that you knew what Leduc was doing. And intended to act.”
Armand shook his head. “I only found out last night. I should’ve known earlier, but it honestly never, ever occurred to me someone could do that to the cadets. Not even a sadist like Leduc. But it does explain the revolver, and the special silencer he had made. In case.”
“One bullet, placed in one chamber, and spun,” said Michel. “Only a revolver does that. When that wretched little man told me what he was doing, smiling all the time, I understood why you were here.”
“Me?” asked Armand, surprised by the turn the conversation had taken.
“I knew what you were planning to do. You came to the academy to get rid of Serge Leduc. You’d fired all the other corrupt professors, but kept him. Why? I asked myself. Because you had other plans for him. Something more permanent. So that he could never torture anyone else.”
“But I told you, I didn’t know about the Russian roulette,” said Armand. “I wish I had. I wish they hadn’t gone through months of that, while I did nothing.”
“You’d have found out eventually. You were digging. Trying to get something on him. And when you dug past the corruption to the real horror, then what? What would you have done?”
Armand was silent.
“You’d have confronted him, and then I think you’d have killed him. You’d have had to, to save the cadets.”
“I could have arrested him.”
“For what? He’d never admit it, and he had those poor cadets so confused, so disoriented, they don’t know up from down. They’d never admit to playing Russian roulette. Not while the Duke lived.”
He watched Armand and could see the struggle. Brébeuf spoke softly now. Quietly. Almost in a whisper.
“He had to die. He had to be killed. You’d have tried to find other options, as I did. But finally there would be no choice. You’d have visited him one night, asking to see the revolver. You’d have taken it and put bullets in the chamber, as he watched, mystified, trying to explain that you should only use one bullet. And then you’d have put it to his temple. And when it dawned on him what was about to happen, and he began pleading for his life, you’d have pulled the trigger.”
The two men held each other’s eyes. The story had done the trick. It had horrified them both.
“But the worst would be yet to come, Armand. Pulling that trigger on an unarmed man, executing him, would have killed you too. You’d have done the unthinkable, you’d have damned yourself to save the cadets. I couldn’t let that happen. So I did it for you. I owed you that.”
*
Deputy Commissioner Gélinas heard the footsteps before he heard the knock.
Picking up his pistol, he stood in the middle of the bedroom he’d been assigned in the academy. A junior professor’s room, Gamache had explained. Apologizing. Bed, living room, kitchenette, all in one small space.
But Gélinas’s needs, as it turned out, were simple. He enjoyed the fine dining and luxury hotels in Europe, but without the companionship of his wife, the pleasure was shallow and fleeting.
He found all he really needed was a bed, a small bookcase, and a place to put the photo of Hélène, which now lay facedown on the table.
She’d inspired him to be a better man than he actually was, and he wondered if she knew it. Knew what he was really like, beneath the layer of integrity, worn like a uniform.
On Hélène’s death, there seemed no reason to keep it up. All the constraints fell away, and he was free. And he was lost.
And now he stood there, in the little room, and raised the gun.
“Deputy Commissioner Gélinas?” came Isabelle Lacoste’s voice.
“Come in.”
Isabelle Lacoste opened the door, and stopped. She thought for just a moment before turning and speaking to the agents behind her.
Then she entered alone, closing the door behind her.
“Give me the gun,” she said, holding out her hand.
*
“I think he might have a gun,” Huifen told Nathaniel and Amelia just as they reached the factory mock-up.
“What?”
“How?”
“The Duke gave him one for his birthday.”
The freshmen stared at Huifen.
“And you knew?” Amelia demanded.
“I guessed. It didn’t seem strange. At the time.”
Amelia understood. What seemed incredible now seemed normal then. Leduc had the ability to create an entire world, with its own rules and gravity. Nothing he did could be strange, because he decided what was normal.
“Why didn’t you tell Gamache?” Amelia asked. “After Leduc was killed.”
“I didn’t want to get Jacques into trouble. After the Duke died, I asked him if he had a gun and he denied it. I wanted to believe him.”
“We have to assume he does,” said Amelia.
They’d arrived at the tactical training area and looked at the closed door to the factory.
“Shouldn’t we get a professor?” asked Nathaniel, glancing up and down the empty hallway.
“While Jacques uses the gun?” asked Huifen. “You can go if you want to.”
“Will he use it on us, do you think? Will he shoot at us?” asked Nathaniel.
“Does it matter?” asked Huifen.
“A little,” said Nathaniel.
“No, I mean, will that stop you from going in?” She nodded to the door.
He considered, then shook his head.
Huifen looked at Amelia, who also shook her head and stared at the door.
Four months ago, she was giving blow jobs in exchange for dope.
Four months ago, Nathaniel was waiting tables in Old Montréal, for tips.
Four months ago, Huifen held a gun to her own head.
She reached out for the handle, while the other two stood side by side.
Then she opened the door, and they moved forward.
*
“Give me the gun.”
Brébeuf had gone to his liquor cabinet and poured them both large Scotches, but when he turned around, he held a glass in one hand and a pistol in the other. It was hanging lazily at his side, as though it was a napkin or stir stick.
On seeing it, Armand slowly stood up.
“Is it my turn now? Are you going to shoot me?”
“Like when we played soldier, running all over Mont Royal?”
“I thought we were on the same side,” said Gamache. “Back then. Give me the gun.”
“I’ll give you the drink. You might need it.”
*
Gélinas stood in the middle of the room, his gun aimed at Isabelle Lacoste.
“You were Serge Leduc’s partner, weren’t you?” she said, not asking but telling. Her voice was steady, calm, almost conversational. But the blush in her cheeks betrayed high emotion.
“He was a moron,” he said. No use denying anything now. “But perfectly placed.”
“To fix contracts. You must’ve made millions.”
He gave one jerk of his head, in agreement. “It’s sitting in an account in Luxembourg. I made a mistake when I was talking to Gamache, didn’t I? I mentioned Luxembourg. I knew as soon as I’d said it that I’d said something stupid. It was too specific. And too true. I wasn’t sure if he caught it.”
“He heard. But it just confirmed what he already suspected.”
“When Leduc contacted me to say that Gamache was here and investigating the contract fixing, he panicked. But so did I. I knew Leduc wasn’t clever enough to outwit him. So I came back.”
“To kill Leduc.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
The gun was by his side now, still clutched in his hand.
“But I didn’t have to kill him. Gamache got there first.”
“Non, not Monsieur Gamache,” said Lacoste.
“Then who?” asked Gélinas.
Once again, Lacoste put out her hand. As steady as her gaze.
“There’re two armed S?reté officers outside this room, as you know. It’s over. You’re guilty of theft, but not of murder. Give me your weapon, please.”
And he did.