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Dussault raised his brows. Gamache had recovered his senses far faster than he’d expected.

“There is one possible way out of this.”

Gamache recognized what had just happened. It was a common technique. Scare, threaten, raise the pressure and the stakes until the person was out of their mind with terror.

Then offer them a way out.

Even as he recognized it, he also recognized that it worked. He was terrified and he was desperate. And he was listening.

“How?”

“There’s something they want. Something your godfather has.”

“What Thierry Girard was looking for in Stephen’s apartment. Something to do with the neodymium mine.”

Dussault pressed his lips together.

Armand could see that Dussault hadn’t expected him to know so much. This was not working out as Dussault had planned. But neither was it going as Armand had hoped.

Both had delivered punches. And now both were reeling.

But Armand knew he was by far the more bruised. Dussault had Daniel. And therefore Dussault had him.

But Claude had said there was a chance.

“You want me to find whatever evidence Stephen’s hidden. That’s why you’ve taken Daniel. To make sure I do it.”

“Added incentive, yes. It needs to be found before tomorrow morning’s board meeting.”

“And if I do?”

“I think I can convince them to release your son, and let you all leave Paris.”

Armand stared at his feet. Then, looking up, he gave a small nod. As though he believed him. “I’ll need to see Daniel.”

Dussault brought out his iPhone.

“Non. I mean in person. There must be”—the familiar phrase Armand had used so often in hostage negotiations now stuck in his throat, so that for a moment he tasted vomit—“proof of life.”

Dussault considered the man in front of him. “Follow me.”

He turned and walked briskly away from the ghosts of the Place de la Concorde.

They walked for ten minutes, in silence, Armand Gamache following Dussault along boulevard Saint-Germain. Past the young lovers and elderly men and women arm in arm.

Though one elderly woman caught his eye. And smiled reassuringly. As though she knew. That all would be well.

Daniel’s father clung to the look in those clear and kindly eyes long after she was gone. He knew it was an illusion, a delusion, but it comforted him as he walked through the darkness.

When they turned down boulevard Raspail, Armand knew where they were going. Where Daniel had been taken.

It was both cruel and kind. Armand was both sickened and relieved.

They were holding Daniel in Stephen’s apartment. A place Daniel had visited many times. Where his son had happy memories and where he might be less afraid.

But it was one more violation for Armand. His own safe place defiled beyond redemption.

When they arrived, Madame Faubourg came out to greet them.