Page 166 of The Grey Wolf
“Because he’s young and cowardly,” said the Abbot. “One meant he could make the elixir for many years to come, the other meant he’d never leave.”
“So where is he now?” demanded Frère Sébastien.
These silent monks just stared at each other, until finally the Abbot spoke.
“Find him,” he said to his confrères, then turned to the three visitors. “Stay here.”
Lacoste waited until all the monks, including Sébastien, had gone inside, then turned to Dussault. “Shall we?”
“You first.”
“What about me?” called Sister Irene as her two companions disappeared into the main body of the monastery.
She looked around, then ran after them. A few butterflies that had become trapped in the billowing folds of her white habit came fluttering out.
Instinct told them to stay in the garden. Instinct was not always right. Within moments they were eaten by birds.
CHAPTER36
“You can leave me now,” said Gamache once they’d entered the waiting room. “Thank you for your help.”
“A pleasure,patron. I’ll just wait and make sure you get in,” said Sargent Gauthier.
“Not necessary.”
“I know. It’s the least I can do.”
Gamache hoped he looked more grateful than he felt.
The receptionist’s desk was empty. Gamache took a seat and waited, while the Mountie looked at the photos on the walls.
Taking in his surroundings, Gamache thought this office was a perfect reflection of Caron. Polished and impressive on the outside; shabby, dirty, broken on the inside. The desk looked like it had been found in a dumpster. The framed photos on the walls, which Gauthier was glancing at, were out of date, showing many politicians, now dead, shaking hands with other politicians, now disgraced.
Armand tried to order his thoughts, concerned that when he actually saw Jeanne Caron his mind would go blank. Taken hostage by an old and powerful grievance.
He could not let that happen. He needed a strategy. Some way to get this woman to tell him what was going on. Preferably without his having to draw his weapon.
Though he was willing to, and suspected it would be necessary. Time and events had overtaken him. Had run roughshod over andwiped out a lifetime of trying to do the right thing in the face of great temptation to do the easy thing.
This, what might be his last act, was what he’d be remembered for. His own travesty. The history he loved would judge him badly. But it didn’t matter. He needed answers. Quickly.
Armand looked at his phone. Messages were pouring in. Though still nothing from Assistant Commissioner Lavigne or Lacoste.
Jean-Guy was setting up the call. Once that was made, the machinery would be set in motion, and nothing would ever be the same. He was about to pull the trigger and start the panic.
That panic would lead to chaos. And chaos would lead to the breaking down of civil society, of civility. Order would ultimately be restored, but it would be a strict, restrictive order. A new world order would be in place. Where rights were limited. Privacy was a thing of the past. Movement, travel denied. Elections suspended.
All for the public good. All with public consent. That passenger beside him babbling away on the flight was right about one thing. When scared, people would readily agree to things that hours earlier would have appalled them.
But there was one chance. If he could get Jeanne Caron to talk.
Just then, the door to Caron’s private office opened. Gamache got to his feet.
A young man was standing there.
“My name is—”
“I know who you are, Monsieur Gamache. They called up from reception. I explained that Madame Caron can’t see you.”
