Page 181

He’d bought low, after the tech bubble burst, and turned hundreds of millions into billions.

“Jesus, maybe the guy’s an idiot savant,” said Madame de la Granger. “Though I saw no evidence of the savant part.”

“There,” said Allida Lenoir, pointing to her screen. “Six years ago. Pinot’s company bought a controlling interest in—”

“Agence France-Presse,” said Reine-Marie, triumphant. “That must be it.”

Jean-Guy was shaking his head. “We still don’t have a connection between this guy and Stephen. We don’t know whether AFP in his notes means Alain Pinot, or Agence France-Presse, or Plessner, or someone else.”

“Something’s missing,” said Madame de la Granger. “Some link.”

“I’m going to write Mrs. McGillicuddy,” said Reine-Marie, “and find out if Stephen knew the Pinot family, and especially Alain Pinot.”

The four of them sat in individual pools of light, their fingers tap-tap-tapping on the keyboards, like the soft patter of feet, sneaking up on a killer.

* * *

Daniel stared at the screen, jotted some notes. Then he looked up another file. And made more notes.

He’d been at it for almost an hour, exploring avenues and dead ends. Eliminating possibilities, narrowing options. He’d started by trying to track down the numbered companies, with limited success.

Then he went into the sell and buy orders, the ones stored for execution Monday morning. There were thousands. Listed not by investor, but by investment.

He needed to scroll through them all. His eyes were bloodshot, his concentration wavering.

He stopped. Went back. Something he’d passed needed another look.

Daniel stared at the screen.

A buy order had popped up. Placed by Stephen Horowitz late Friday, to be executed first thing Monday morning.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

He’d found out what Stephen was going to do with his billions. But it didn’t tell him why.

So absorbed was Daniel that he didn’t hear the click of the door behind him.

The rapid tapping of his fingers on the keyboard masked the soft approach of footsteps.

He didn’t hear the murmured voice, advising the weekend supervisor to go back to his office. And stay there.

But he did feel the warm breath on his neck.

“Neodymium is fairly common,” Madame Arbour read off her phone. “In China. Less so elsewhere. The find in Patagonia would be significant.”

“Why?” asked Gamache. Though he believed he knew the answer.

Geopolitics. China was an authoritarian regime that could be as thin-skinned as it was brutal. Agreements were vulnerable to political machinations. Regime change. Subject to trade wars and tariffs. And a Western government that actually put human rights above profit.

“The supply could not be guaranteed,” said Madame Arbour. “But a European company owning a rare earth mine in South America would be able to guarantee delivery.”

“You mentioned magnets. Is that neodymium’s main use?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds harmless.”

“You’re thinking of a normal magnet. But look at this.”