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She had all day.

“I’ll come right to the point,” he said. “I think the event should never have been booked, but since it has, I think it should be canceled.”

“And you come to me with this? There’s nothing I can do even if I wanted to. My position is honorary, as you know. I have no real power.”

“I did ask the President.”

“Really? And what did he say?” There was, Gamache could hear, some amusement in her voice.

The President of the University, while a titan in his field, was far from that as a leader and policy maker.

“He declined.”

“Let me guess.” She shut her eyes. “The purpose of a university is to give safe harbor for dissenting voices.” Opening them, she saw her guest smiling.

“He’s not wrong,” said Gamache.

“No.”

“But this isn’t just a dissenting voice.” He leaned toward her. “You have influence, Colette. You could contact the Board of Governors. They respect you. Convene a conference call.”

“And what would I say?”

“That this sort of lecture wrapped in academic garb is not just nonsense, it’s dangerous. That in hosting her, the University risks giving her views legitimacy.”

She studied him for one beat. Two. Appearing to consider, though Armand would have been surprised if she hadn’t anticipated this conversation. And prepared her answer.

They had that in common. Anticipating events. Preparing. He’d done the same thing while driving over. He didn’t always win the argument, didn’t expect to. Some battles were unwinnable. But sometimes just showing up was enough.

And he had to try.

“If you think it’s dangerous, then stop it yourself,” she said. “You have the authority, as a senior Sûreté officer. That is, if you think Abigail’s breaking the law. Do you?”

“Non. If I did, I wouldn’t need to be here, as pleasant as this is.”

She smiled at that. “So, Armand, you want me to do your dirty work? You don’t want to be seen to abuse your power, but you want me to abuse mine?”

Though he could see the thin sheet of ice creeping toward him, he was nevertheless surprised by what she said next.

“You’d hide behind a seventy-three-year-old woman? Are you that much of a coward?”

He cocked his head to one side, quickly reassessing the situation. It was a direct, even coarse, personal attack. It didn’t hurt. He knew he wasn’t a coward. And, what’s more, she did too.

He’d been accused of many things in his career, but even his enemies hadn’t dared throw that in his face.

So why would the Chancellor? It was unworthy of the woman he knew and respected.

Far from allowing himself to be goaded, he grew even calmer. His focus and attention sharpened, even as his breathing steadied. As it always did when preparing for a confrontation, either physical or intellectual.

He’d known, as he drove over, that this might be a tense conversation, but he had not expected this reaction from the Chancellor.

“Well, I am afraid,” he said, his voice reasonable. “If that’s what you mean. Not just that it will turn violent—every public gathering has that potential and this more than most. But I am afraid that hosting this event will not just sully the University but help spread her message. It has the potential to infect the whole province. And beyond.”

“You consider free speech an infection? Ideas a virus? I thought you believed in the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, or is that just for public consumption? Are your situational ethics showing? Free speech is fine, as long as it doesn’t bump into your personal beliefs, your ideology?”

“I have no ideology—”

Colette Roberge laughed. “Don’t kid yourself. Everyone has beliefs, values.”