Page 179 of The Grey Wolf
“AQB. The environmental group,” said Beauvoir.
“Never heard of it.”
Gamache stared at her. It seemed she was telling the truth. “Charles Langlois worked for them. They focus on water pollution.”
“If he did, it wasn’t through me. If the threat was from domestic terrorists imbedded in the federal government, why would I get him a job in some tiny provincial environmental organization no one’s ever heard of? It doesn’t make sense.”
Beauvoir and Gamache looked at each other. She was right. It didn’t make sense. But Langlois definitely worked for AQB.
Could he have been moonlighting? Working part-time with the environmental group? But if so, why? And why not tell Caron?
“When my uncle came to me with the story about poisoning the drinking water, we finally had a focus. The attack has to be on one of the six treatment plants. Probably on one of the two largest. I got Charles a job in the Atwater treatment plant, but he found nothing. So I had him transferred to the next likely place, the Charles-J.-Des Baillets facility in LaSalle.”
“He didn’t find anything there either,” said Dom Philippe. “We had no idea which one would be targeted, and we were out of options. The three of us met at The Mission to discuss what we should do next. That’s when Jeanne decided to try to contact you, Armand.”
“Wouldn’t they target more than one plant?” said Beauvoir. “Like the 9/11 bombers in New York, and the 7/7 in London. They’d increase their chances of success.”
“But they’d also increase the chance of someone talking,” said Gamache.
“And someone clearly did, in DC,” said the Abbot. “Thank God.”
“Langlois was working at the LaSalle plant when he was killed,” said Beauvoir. “Isn’t it fair to think he found something?”
“That’s what I think too,” said Caron. “It’s the biggest, and the newest. The only problem is that it has the most sophisticated system to detect and treat toxins. That’s why I didn’t start him out there.”
Gamache had done his homework on the various plants. The LaSalle one had multiple layers of treatment, finishing with sodium hypochlorite to kill all toxins, except—
“Botulinum would survive the treatment.”
Caron nodded. “I was afraid you’d say that. It was my guess.”
“Guess? You don’t know the toxin?”
“Not for sure. I’m hoping it’s in the papers I stole. I’ve read some but haven’t had time to go through them all. And now you’re wasting time. When Lauzon gets back in the morning, he’ll discover the broken desk and know who did it. There’s no going back now.”
Gamache’s jacket pocket buzzed again. This time he brought it out and glanced at the message. It was from Lacoste.
Brother Robert was dead. Almost certainly murdered. There was a photo attached.
“What is it?” Beauvoir asked.
As Gamache handed him his phone, he noticed Dom Philippe was staring into the dark corner of the small chapel.
Gamache grew very still. Beside him, Beauvoir, sensing the change in the Chief, lowered the phone.
St. Thomas’s no longer felt like a sanctuary.
There was, in the shadows, the slightest glint.
Gamache just had time to turn, to try to warn the others, when the first shot was fired.
“This didn’t happen very long ago,” said Dussault as Lacoste knelt and shone her flashlight on Brother Robert, face down in the grass.
She could see that her message to the Chief Inspector had been read, but he hadn’t replied. Normally she’d at least get aGot it. But there was nothing.
“I’ve called the police in Grenoble,” said Dussault. “They’re sending a team.”
She stood up and turned to the Abbot, interrupting their prayers. “Is anyone missing?”
