Page 172 of The Grey Wolf
Beauvoir thought. He’d actually come to respect the elderly woman, who’d stepped up when others had run away. He nodded.
“Then where are they?”
“There are two other places Dom Philippe would consider a sanctuary.”
“Saint-Gilbert-Entre-les-Loups,” said Beauvoir as they got into the vehicle. “And his childhood home in Blanc-Sablon.”
“Exactly.” Gamache slammed his door shut.
“Not there?” asked the Mountie gesturing toward The Mission.
“Non.So which one is it? Where’d he go?”
All three stared at the Chief Inspector, waiting for him to answer. Waiting for him to tell them what to do.
Armand brought his hands to his face. Rubbing his eyes and, as the others watched with some concern, he held his face in his hands. As though trying to shut out the world. The pressure. The pressure. The unrelenting, crushing pressure.
He had to choose. Had to answer the question. Which one?
Everything was riding on getting it right, and he’d already been wrong once. Both places were far away, there’d be no recovering from a mistake. And the conference call was fast approaching. The point of no return.
Probably not the monastery, not with Jeanne Caron, a woman, in tow. Though perhaps that was exactly why Dom Philippe would choose it.
Blanc-Sablon was remote, hard to get to, and the Abbot knew it well. Knew the hiding places, had friends and family there who’d protect them, even from the police. Especially from the police.
There was no clear answer. Maybe he should just guess. Then the scales, and his hands, dropped from his eyes and he turned to Beauvoir.
“Three Pines.”
“What?”
“Dom Philippe told Olivier that the village was a sanctuary. They’ve gone there.”
“To Three Pines?” said Beauvoir, not believing it. “Why?”
“It’s close, it’s essentially hidden—”
“And it’s where you live,patron. Would a person trying to hide from you go right to where you live?”
“It’s where I’d go. I’d hide in my enemy’s camp. Dom Philippe might not be that cunning, but Jeanne Caron sure is.”
In the rearview mirror Gamache saw the Mountie texting. Without doubt warning his family. Warning Diane’s family. To get out of Montréal.
Armand didn’t stop him. He owed her that.
Beauvoir pulled out and headed south toward the village. “If you’re right, Annie and Reine-Marie and the family might be in danger.”
“I doubt it. The Abbot and Caron would want to be as inconspicuous as possible. They’d never approach a home. They just want to lie low and wait until the worst is over. Still, I’ll text them and the others, to make sure they lock their doors.”
As he did that, the assistant said, “If you think Madame Caron and this Abbot are behind the plot, why would they have to hide? Who’re they hiding from? Shouldn’t we be the ones hiding?”
“They’re hiding from us,” said the Mountie. “They know we’re after them.”
“Come on,” the assistant looked around. “If you’re right, Chief Inspector, then Madame Caron has ordered at least one murder, probably more. She has killers at her disposal, and she’s afraid of us?”
Beauvoir, slightly ruffled by the implication that he was not much of a threat, had to admit it was a good question. Why would Caron and the Abbot need a sanctuary?
“Oh, shit,” he said, glancing at Gamache. “Maybe they’re not hiding at all. You don’t think they’ve gone to Three Pines to try to frame you? Maybe plant some of those classified documents in the village so that it looks like you’re involved?”
