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Of all the things they’d expected, this was not one.

Ten seconds passed before Gamache spoke. “Surrender your weapons. Put your Sûreté ID on your desks. It’s over.”

He spoke with authority. His voice deep and quiet and calm. As though he actually expected them to do it.

“Fuck you,” shouted the most senior agent. He stepped closer to Gamache, raising his weapon.

Oh, Reine-Marie, I’m so sorry …

Beauvoir heard Chernin inhale and saw her tense. Preparing …

Oh God, oh God, oh God, Jean-Guy prayed.

Gamache didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away from the gun practically touching his forehead. He’d expected to be dead already, so any hesitation on the part of his killers was a bonus.

“Let Dagenais go,” the agent shouted, his face so close Gamache felt a spray of spittle.

“And then what?” Gamache asked, as though they were having a reasonable conversation, a civilized disagreement. “You let us go? We all just walk away and pretend this didn’t happen?”

He had to lower the temperature. To do that, he had to sound like what he was not. Perfectly calm.

Half the agents in the room were prepared to shoot. Even, he thought, wanting to. Perhaps needing to. And he suddenly understood why.

Alexandre Dagenais was not the only one from this detachment who’d visited the Arsenault home.

This was a problem. A further complication.

Gamache’s mind raced. How to get out of this?

While it was true that three of the armed agents looked prepared to kill fellow Sûreté officers, the other three seemed less committed. More afraid.

Clearly this was not what they’d signed up for. Brutalizing the population. Stealing drugs and arms. Okay. Especially since it was sanctioned, rewarded, even organized by the leadership.

But this? Murdering not just other agents, but one of the most senior officers in the Sûreté? That was something different.

Still, Gamache knew he could not appeal to them. They were cowards and would always bend to whoever had the upper hand. And it was not him.

“Alexandre Dagenais is under arrest.” Gamache raised his voice for all to hear. “We will not give him up. But I will give you a choice. If you put down your weapons and surrender your Sûreté ID, I will let you leave.” He counted to five in his mind, letting that sink in. “Or you can shoot. And you know what will happen then. You’ll kill me, but Inspector Chernin and Agent Beauvoir will return fire and kill you. In the exchange, Dagenais will also die. Some of you will too. Or at least be badly wounded. Any of you who survive will be hunted down by the rest of my department. In fact, by every Sûreté officer in the province. Every police officer in the country. And when you’re found…”

He could see his words were having some effect. Partly what he was saying, but also how he was saying it. His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. Almost mesmerizing.

“Put down your weapons.”

There seemed a hesitation. A moment when it looked like that might happen.

But the senior agent, clearly the most desperate, knew he had to do something to regain control. He grabbed Gamache, hauling the Chief Inspector in front of him and locking his arm around his throat. His gun to Gamache’s temple.

“Drop your fucking weapons,” he shouted at Chernin and Beauvoir. “Or he dies.”

The arm tightened, cutting off his air supply, leaving Gamache gasping for breath. He didn’t buck or fight. He stared at Chernin. At Beauvoir. Willing them to stay the course.

Would they follow orders not to shoot unless the others shot first? Not to surrender.

A moment passed. Two.

Chernin did not move. Did not react. Her weapon remained trained on the cop holding Gamache. Poised to fire. And while Beauvoir’s eyes had grown so wide it seemed his eyeballs must fall out, he also remained perfectly still. His gun raised. Aimed. But not fired. Yet.

The seconds ticked by.