Page 117

Here was the document that everyone had dismissed, thinking it contained Charles Langlois’s initial notes. Thinking it was unimportant, and not, as it turned out, the most important.

That was until Gamache had gone back and reread it and realized their mistake. His mistake. And understood it contained a warning of something much bigger than the poisoning.

And yet, read and reread it as the Chief Inspector might, as the others might, they could not figure out what Charles was warning them about.

Yvette Nichol took the sheafs of worn paper into the kitchen, and sitting in front of the woodstove, she began to read. Once finished, she returned to the study and got the other one. The first one … the one they now dismissed, believing it had already coughed up all its secrets.

Many kilometers away, in Montréal, Chief Inspector Tardiff placed a call.

“We need to meet.”

“Agreed,” said Moretti.

Prime Minister Woodford stared at the three people in his office. His sharp gaze went from Gamache to Lacoste to that intense young woman who was introduced to him as Shona Dorion.

He’d listened to what they had to say. Now he opened his mouth, then closed it again. When the Prime Minister of Canada finally did speak, it was not what anyone expected.

“Mein Kampf.”

While Lacoste and Dorion looked at each other, perplexed, Armand Gamache opened his eyes wide in surprise. “My struggle?”

“Yes.”

Of all the things a leader might say when told of a possible plan by a foreign power to invade, the title of that book was not one.

“Why are you quoting Hitler, sir?”

Now Dorion mouthed “Hitler?” and Lacoste frowned. Both turned to Gamache, who seemed to know the what but clearly not the why of it.

“His book, Mein Kampf—” the PM began.

“I’m familiar with it.”

“Then you probably know about the Big Lie.”

Oh, shit, thought Lacoste. He doesn’t believe us. Though she didn’t dare say anything.

“Are you calling us liars?” Shona asked and watched as the Prime Minister of Canada turned to her.

When she’d woken up that morning, she’d never expected that this would be part of her day. Her week. Her life. That within hours she would find herself in a private meeting with the PM. That he would be looking at her. At her. Shona Dorion.

Granted, his expression was one of annoyance, but still …

Indeed, Shona was trying to catch up with everything that had happened so far that young day.

She’d just showered and dressed, getting ready to go into Action Québec Bleu, when there was a knock on the door. Her phone said it was just after seven. This could not be good. Had she paid the rent? Yes. Had she given her neighbor back her dishes from two nights ago?

Yes.

So who could—

“Ms. Dorion, it’s Armand Gamache.”

Oh, fuck. Not him.

“Go away, you dirty old man. I told you I’m not putting out again.” She grinned, imagining his face turning a bright red. She hoped he wasn’t alone.

“I have something for yoooou.” The singsong voice of the Chief Inspector came through the door, and despite herself Shona laughed.