Page 28 of The Grey Wolf
Gamache’s face told him that his trust was of no concern to him.
“I’ll tell you something for free,” said Gamache, getting up and putting cash on the table with a large tip. He caught the eye of an agent standing behind “Charles” and glanced down at the coffee mug. “Unless your boss is a complete fool, he found your note and knows about this meeting.”
“Charles” grew very still. This was clearly a new and disconcerting thought.
“You need to tell me who he is.”
“Charles” shook his head. “Not until I know if he can be trusted. I owe him that much. He’s either incredibly brave or…”
Or, thought Gamache. He’d met his share of the “ors.” But he’d also met his share of incredibly brave people. He thought, despite the lying, that he might be in the company of one at that moment.
CHAPTER9
The meeting was over.
After half an hour together, Gamache had gotten almost nothing out of this “Charles,” except some vague allusions to something larger in the works.
No facts, no evidence, no names. Not even this stranger’s name.
As he followed “Charles” to the door, Gamache was troubled and frustrated. And felt he had not done a very good job.
Since he had no facts or evidence, he had to rely on his instincts. Oddly enough, though Gamache fought against it, his instincts told him “Charles” had been sincere when he’d said he was trying to help. Though the young man was clearly deeply conflicted. And he hadn’t actually been any help. In fact, quite the opposite. He’d created a house of specters, of partly seen, insubstantial threats, and then thrown Gamache into it.
Once outside, they paused on the sidewalk.
“Why did you wonder if you could trust me?” Gamache asked.
He was squinting into the sun and moved slightly. From that angle he could see Beauvoir standing across the street, and behind him an SUV parked half a block away. Probably an unmarked Sûreté vehicle.
Lacoste was just coming out of Open Da Night, followed closely by a woman who glanced around, looking for someone or for an empty table on the packed terrasse.
“Charles” hadn’t answered his question. Instead, he continued to stare at him. And Armand understood.
“You’re afraid the Sûreté is compromised.”
“I’m sure of it. And yes, Chief Inspector, I’m afraid.”
“Who? Who in the Sûreté?”
“Charles” shook his head. “I don’t know. And that’s the least of it.”
“The least of what?” demanded Gamache, his patience far exceeded.
“Charles” thought for a moment, considering and weighing his answer. “I gave up drugs and booze, and now everyone is telling me that to be healthy I should drink more water, but you know, I don’t think that’s true.”
He stared at Gamache as though expecting the Chief Inspector to understand.
“Come on, son. I need more.”
Armand didn’t know why he just called this young man “son,” except that he wasn’t that far off Daniel’s age. In fact, “Charles” and Daniel had a lot in common. Not least of all drug use. And managing to claw back their lives.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gamache saw the woman behind Lacoste raise her hand and wave cheerily toward the SUV. It began moving to pick her up.
Instead of answering Gamache’s question, “Charles” said, “I’ll be in touch.”
“You’ve given me nothing!”
“I’ve given you more than I meant to. More than was wise. I need to find something out. I’ll let you know. I promise.”
