Page 24 of The Grey Wolf
Armand watched a drop of perspiration slowly make its way down “Charles’s” face.
If it hadn’t been involuntary, Gamache would have suspected the sweat was part of the act.
“I don’t know.”
Gamache stared at “Charles” so long that the perspiration had time to make its slow way to his jawline. And then the drop dropped.Splat.Onto the wooden table.
“How was your employer supposed to prove he’d been in the apartment?”
“What?”
“You said it was a bet, so he’d have to prove he’d succeeded. If you weren’t to steal something personal, then what proof would he have?”
“I was told to take a photograph.”
“Let me see.” Gamache held out his hand.
“I erased it. Didn’t want any evidence.”
“But you must have sent it to the guy who hired you. I want to see your emails.”
His hand was still out.
“I don’t have a phone.”
“Come on, you can do better than that,” said Gamache, exasperated. “How did you take the photo? How did you send it? Do I need to teach you how to lie?”
“The guy gave me his phone.”
“You’re not even trying to make this believable.”
Over “Charles’s” shoulder, Gamache could see Lacoste watching this. He was wearing a wire, of course. She and Beauvoir would be listening in. Recording this on audio and video. Jean-Guy would have already put this man’s photo into the system.
Gamache lowered his hand to the table. It was now clear that this was all bullshit. Except, perhaps, for the sweat. The drops plump with deceit.
The man knew he was cornered. And not only by Chief Inspector Gamache. There was someone else. Someone he feared more than Gamache. Actually, it was clear to the Chief Inspector that this “Charles” did not fear him at all. The opposite seemed to be true. He viewed Gamache as the lifeguard. The one swimming out to save him.
And yet, despite the fact he’d invited Gamache here for that reason, despite Gamache’s entreaties, this man seemed reluctant to accept the help.
For his part, Armand Gamache was keenly aware that a drowning man could take them both down.
“Tell me.” His voice was soft now, not confronting but compelling.
“Charles” took a deep breath. A decision would have to be made. Sink or swim? Clearly the truth was dangerous. But surely it had gone far too far now. What was this man’s hesitation?
“All right, I’ll tell you.”
Gamache knew that whatever was said next would be a demi-truth.Not a whole lie, not the entire truth. They were coming to the endgame. And that was always the most dangerous.
He was suddenly very glad Beauvoir had pretty much emptied Sûreté headquarters into Open Da Night. Though he did briefly wonder how he’d explain to accounting all the caffè cremas and bomboloni.
“Charles” had said that this meeting had been a mistake. Armand now wondered if he had made the same blunder.
His eyes traveled over to where the grandfather and little girl had been sitting and was relieved to see the seats were empty. A table had opened up on the terrasse and they’d grabbed it. If something happened, they were more likely to be out of it.
“I was told to go in and take the jacket. As proof. But not to take anything else. I thought it was a joke. I really didn’t know it was your place.”
“Enough,” said Gamache, eyes sharp on the man across from him, but alert to all movement around them. “I have no idea if you knew, and right now it doesn’t matter. But I want you to think, to really think. You were told to break into the home of the head of homicide. A senior Sûreté officer. There’s a reason for it, something that goes far beyond a jacket and a joke.” He looked around, then his eyes swung back to “Charles.” “What’s going to happen here?”
