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They were in the narrow streets, clogged with Paris’s Monday morning rush hour. They had to get across the Seine, over île de la Cité, from the Third Arrondissement to the Seventh. From the Marais, all the way over to the far side of Saint-Germain-des-Prés.

They were, he could see by the driver’s satnav, twelve minutes away. At this rate, it would be too late.

“I’ll give you all the money I have if you get me there before seven thirty.”

“Rush hour,” said the driver, then glanced down at the hand thrust between the seats clutching a fistful of euro notes.

The driver leaned on the horn and sped up.

Armand sat back and reached for his phone to call Reine-Marie, then remembered where it was.

“May I use your phone?”

“What? No. I need it for directions. You want to get there or not?”

Gamache tossed a hundred-euro note at the driver and said, “You have a second one. Give it to me.”

He was moments away from pulling the gun out of his coat pocket when the driver handed him his personal phone. “Okay, man, calm down.”

Gamache placed the call, but there was no answer. Reine-Marie was either too busy or wasn’t picking up a call from a number she didn’t recognize.

He tried Jean-Guy. No answer.

Then he tried Reine-Marie again. This time she answered. “Oui?”

“It’s me.”

“Armand, where are you?”

“How’s Annie?”

“She and Jean-Guy are in surgery. They’ve decided on the caesarean.”

“Is she all right?”

“I think so. Yes.”

“The baby?”

“I don’t know.” There was a pause as Reine-Marie fought for control. Then repeated, “Where are you?”

He looked to his right and could see the hôpital Hôtel-Dieu. His heart threw itself against his rib cage. Squeezing against it. Pushing toward the hospital. He thought for a moment it might break through.

“I’m in a taxi, on my way to Daniel. We’ll be with you as soon as we can.”

“Are you all right? Is Daniel? Armand, what’s happening? Whose phone are you on?”

“Mine lost power. I’m using the taxi driver’s. I love you. I’ve got to go.”

“I love you,” she said, and then the line went dead in her hand.

Armand gave the phone to the driver, who handed back the money.

“I have a daughter, too.” And turning down an alley, he cut three minutes off the drive.

Armand stared straight ahead, trying to see the way forward and through. The exact sequence of events that had to happen. Had he guessed right?

If not, no amount of planning could possibly work.