Page 125 of The Grey Wolf
“Yes, the letterB.”
She stopped to think. In the silence they heard a tiny, reedy voice. “LetterB, letterB, letterB, oh, letterB.”
Armand and Reine-Marie looked around, then walked to the edge of the porch and leaned over the railing. There was Honoré sitting in the flower bed, hugging Henri. And singing.
“What’re you doing there, little man?” Reine-Marie asked.
“Hiding.”
“From?”
“Mom. It’s dinnertime and there’re brussels sprouts. She puts them under the spaghetti.”
“You were also singing.” Armand looked at their grandson’s upturned filthy face. “Can you do it again?”
Sensing a deal to be made, Honoré said, “If I do, will you eat my brussels sprouts?”
“Don’t you normally give them to Henri?” asked his grandfather. At the sound of his name, the shepherd’s prodigious ears swung toward Armand.
“You know about that?” said Honoré. “No, I don’t.”
“Someone’s going to have to teach that child how to lie properly,” muttered Reine-Marie.
“I will eat your brussels sprouts,” said Armand. “If you sing for me.”
Honoré, whose voice was thin but true, sang, “LetterB, letterB…”
“Shouldn’t that be ‘Let It Be’?” asked Reine-Marie.
“LetterB, ohhhh, letterB…”
“The Beatles?” It was the same tune Honoré’s father had hummed earlier in the day when discussing the strange code.
“Sesame Street.” The boy couldn’t believe everyone in the world, his world, didn’t know that. “LetterB. Don’t you know the alphabet?”
Armand brought his hand to his mouth and stared, while Honoré sang. Hoping to teach his poor grandfather something. And he had.
“I am on the plane,patron. Heading back to Montréal. They’re about to close the doors.”
“Get off. I need you to do something.”
Beauvoir stood up, grabbed his carry-on, and, after showing his not-exactly-valid-in-the-States Sûreté ID, he left the plane moments before the door closed.
“I’m off. What is it?”
“First I need you to ask Sister Joan about either ‘Let It Be’ or ‘Letter B.’”
“You mean the Beatles orSesame Street?” He’d heard that song often enough. It was a favorite of both Honoré and Idola, who loved anything her brother liked. “I don’t understand.”
“In the first message, the one to Sébastien from the Dominican in Rome, the letterBwas underlined.”
“Yes, I know. It’s how Sébastien knew who it was from. His friend whose name starts withB.”
“That’s what we thought, but suppose we’re wrong? It did tell Sébastien who the message was from, but it might not be a name. It might be theSesame Streetsong about the alphabet. Honoré sang it for me.”
Armand, in his baritone, sang the first few notes.
“But why would monks be referencing aSesame Streetsong?”
