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Bert Whitehead was quiet for a moment. “What did he say?”

“The Prime Minister? What could he say? When I asked if there were plans to attack the US, he thought I was crazy. When I then asked what happens when the water runs out, I thought he was going to call the guards. He did admit that he had had some foreknowledge of the poisoning plot but had dismissed it.”

“He was dubious?”

“That’s one word for it, yes.”

“I think you’re doing the same with these latest rumors, Armand. Dismissing them too quickly.”

“But you just said we aren’t talking about a war between the US and Canada.”

“That’s not exactly what I said. Wars come in different shapes and sizes today. You know that.”

Armand thought for a moment, then leaned forward and said to Isabelle, who was clearly listening, “You said something similar earlier today.”

“I did?”

“You suggested what was happening wasn’t a prelude to outright battle, but something more covert.”

“And I think you’re right,” Whitehead said to Lacoste. “At least, that’s the first thrust.”

Armand was staring at his companion. “The first thrust? Are you saying there’s a second? An attack actually planned?”

“Not just planned. From what I can see, it’s already started.”

I’m dreamin’ of the trees in Canada, Northern Lights are dancing in my head.

If I die, then let me die in Canada, where there’s a chance I’ll die in bed.

“Come with me.” Gamache rose to his feet. “We need to talk privately. Beauvoir. Lacoste.”

“With you, patron.”

One of the actors in the two-person play was now pretending to be Lady St. Helier, in a meeting with Billy.

You’ve been making rather a mess of it, haven’t you. You’re a rather rude young man, behaving like cannon fodder. Perfectly acceptable characteristics, in a Canadian.

There was scattered laughter in the near-empty theater. On stage now, Lady St. Helier announced she’d written a poem in Billy’s honor.

Isabelle paused at the exit, to listen.

So don’t be so naïve, and take that heart off your sleeve,

For a fool and his life will soon be parted.

War’s a fact of life today, it will not be wished away,

Forget that fact, and you’ll be dead before you started.

The door swung shut.

Once out of the opera house, they found themselves in the free library. Armand and Bert were sweeping the walls with their hands, looking for the light switch, when the usher appeared. He’d clearly followed them.

“You can’t be here. The library’s closed. Please return to your seats.” He’d turned on the overhead lights and was looking at them like a father at disappointing children.

Armand had hoped not to have to do this, but there was no choice. He brought out his ID, and the usher, fortunately on the Québec side, opened his eyes wide, looked up at the Chief, and nodded.

“Désolé. I should have recognized you, Monsieur Gamache.”