Page 65 of All the Devils Are Here

“True. I’ll see what I can do. Might slip into work later today. But it would mean missing the autopsy.”

“A shame.”

“Oui.”

“But even if I find it, I’m not sure the engineering report will be helpful,” said Jean-Guy. “I still can’t understand them.”

“Then we’ll find someone who can.”

Beauvoir sat up straighter. His brows drawing together in concentration.

“I told Stephen last night that I was struggling to understand the engineering. He said he did, too.”

“Which means he tried,” said Gamache. “Maybe even the funicular report.”

“Yes. He also said that he found it helpful to read the emails between the engineers and home base.”

“Home base being Paris. Your head office. Can you get those?” Gamache was leaning forward now.

“I can try.” Jean-Guy’s eyes were narrowed, his quick mind going through the options. And the conclusions. “But if there is something wrong with the design of the funicular, and Séverine Arbour saw it, wouldn’t she tell me? Why bring the Luxembourg report to my attention but then not say anything?”

“Maybe she was going to, but you changed the subject. Maybe that’s why she was annoyed.”

“God, that might be true,” said Beauvoir. “But still, if it was a serious flaw, you’d think she’d set aside her feelings and insist on telling me.”

Gamache sat back and took his glasses off as he, too, tried to see the answer. “Madame Arbour’s an engineer, right?”

“Yes. Carole Gossette, the head of operations, says she’s a very good one.”

“Interesting, then, that she should be put in a department meant to police the others.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Beauvoir.

“So, she’s either there to help find problems,” said Gamache. “Or to cover them up.”

“Jesus. She brought me the Luxembourg report not to tell me about the flaw,” said Beauvoir, his eyes widening. “She wanted to test me, to make sure I hadn’t seen it.”

“I think it’s possible. With the board meeting so close, and your connection to Stephen known, they might’ve wanted to see how much you knew.”

“To add my name to the hit list?” Jean-Guy asked. “Fuck me. How many people were they willing to kill?”

“How many people have already died?” asked Gamache. “A flaw in an engineering design, in an elevator for example, could kill hundreds before it’s stopped.”

“How sick do you need to be to cover up something that could kill hundreds, maybe thousands?”

Gamache looked at him.

It happened more often than he cared to admit. But couldn’t deny.

Airlines. Car manufacturers. Pharmaceuticals. Chemical companies. The entire tobacco industry.

Companies knew. Governments knew. Even so-called watchdogs knew. And remained silent. And got rich.

While hundreds, thousands, millions died. Were killed.

The Great Murders.

It had been, and still was, Gamache’s job to find those responsible, and stop them. Jean-Guy, as Gamache’s second-in-command, had followed him into that cesspool.