Page 45 of The Grey Wolf
The homicide department of the Sûreté, made up of agents no oneelse wanted, was the most successful in the country. Because Armand Gamache knew something his colleagues did not. That given direction, clear expectations, and encouragement, given a second chance, people could flourish.
Armand Gamache had pulled them back from the edge, then sent them out across Québec to find those who had fallen.
“What do you think, Jean-Guy?” he asked when the younger man had finished.
“The fact Langlois was investigating pollution in lakes in central and northern Québec, and not just his notes but his map are missing, points to something really shitty. It’s gotta be a toxic waste spill, probably from one of the major pulp mills or mines in the area.”
“Companies pollute all the time,” said Lacoste, “and don’t murder to cover it up.”
“Unless it’s huge, ongoing, and involves high-ranking politicians in a cover-up,” said Beauvoir.
It was possible, thought Gamache. Certainly the most likely scenario. Though there was another possibility. One he wouldn’t mention just yet. He needed to think.
“If made public, this would not just shut down their operations and cost hundreds of millions in cleanup and fines,” said Beauvoir. “But they could end up in jail.”
“It would cost politicians their jobs and maybe even cost the government the next election,” said Lacoste.
They looked at Gamache, who’d been listening. Now he spoke. “What you describe is what should happen, not what actually does. How many heads of corporations end up in prison for pollution? How many governments are toppled?”
They were silent.
“Exactly. I’m not convinced the consequences are all that great that CEOs would resort to murder.”
“What do you think?” asked Lacoste.
Instead of answering, he asked Jean-Guy, “What was your impression of Langlois’s boss?”
Beauvoir considered. He’d known he’d be asked this question. “Igot the impression that she and her people were sincere. Though I guess anyone can be bought off. A few million would shut most people up.”
“But when she found out that Langlois was murdered, wouldn’t she say something?” asked Lacoste.
“Would you?” asked Beauvoir. “If the last person who did was killed?”
Whipped cream squeezed out from between the layers of the mille-feuille as Jean-Guy took a big bite.
“It seems obvious that Charles was doing his own investigation,” said Gamache. “He must’ve realized he’d tripped up and told someone he shouldn’t have.”
“And who would he tell? His boss,” said Lacoste. “But wait a minute. This doesn’t track. Why break into your home? Why take the jacket? If he’d found something, why not just tell you? Why all this sneaking around?”
“About the jacket, I have no idea. But he said the Sûreté is compromised. He needed to meet me away from headquarters.”
“But why someplace so public? And why didn’t he tell you what he’d found?” said Lacoste. “That was one frustrating conversation. He kept hinting, coming close, but not actually telling you anything. Even when he was dying.”
“He said he needed to make sure I could be trusted, and to confirm that his boss was not part of the conspiracy.”
“I have a search warrant for AQB and Madame Chalifoux’s home.”
“Good,” said Gamache. “Very good. We need to get a list of all major industries, mostly pulp and paper and mining, that have plants on lakes in the central and northern parts of the province, in case a huge spill is it. And we need to speak to another environmentalist to find out what they know about those specific multinationals.”
“I have a biologist friend,” said Lacoste. “He can be trusted.”
Gamache dug into his pocket and brought out the list that had been left in his jacket.
“What’re you thinking,patron?” asked Beauvoir. “You think Langlois did put it there?”
“Non.He was genuinely surprised by this.” Gamache tapped his finger on it. “But someone gave it to me to find. It means something.”
Nutmeg, thyme… All fairly common household ingredients. Except.
