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She barely noticed the others. She did see Marcus Lauzon but found she didn’t care anymore. All she cared about were Armand and Isabelle.
Jean-Guy approached his mother-in-law. Her tone, her face, her whole being spoke of far more than anxiety. There was outright fear, verging on panic.
“Why wouldn’t they be? They’re in Parliament meeting with the Prime Minister.”
“Haven’t you seen?” asked Clara.
“Seen what?” asked Nichol.
Isabelle and Shona moved swiftly but without breaking into a run, following Captain Pinsent down the wide corridor.
The entrance was up ahead, heavily guarded. Any moment now the alarm would be sounded as the guards who followed Gamache realized what he was doing.
They had to get out before that happened.
Once at the entrance the RCMP officers saluted Pinsent.
“I need their phones,” she said after returning the salute. “And Inspector Lacoste’s firearm. They’re being allowed to leave.”
“Our orders are to let no one out.”
“Orders I gave you,” she said. “And now they’ve changed. The phones and the firearm. Now.”
The guard retreated to the office, leaving his four colleagues watching them, their rifles at the ready.
Why was it taking so long? Lacoste wondered. What was that RCMP officer doing in there? Making a call? Confirming the orders? Had they realized the prisoners had escaped? Were escaping? Were standing right there?
Just as Pinsent stepped toward the office, the officer came out holding two phones.
“These are yours.”
“We need Chief Inspector Gamache’s too,” said Captain Pinsent. “He’s in the cabinet meeting and will take the west exit. And the firearm? Where is it?”
Time was ticking. Ticking.
“I don’t have them, Captain.”
“Where are they?”
“Prime Minister Woodford’s Chief of Staff signed them out.”
“You gave her a gun?” demanded Lacoste, and looked at Pinsent. Who looked equally disconcerted.
“She said the PM wanted them,” explained the RCMP officer, nervous now.
“We’ll have a talk when this is over,” snapped Captain Pinsent. “In the meantime, open up.”
By now the guard was so anxious, having obviously made his superior angry, he did as he was told.
The guards’ boots picked up speed as they began to suspect something was off.
“Monsieur Gamache? Chief Inspector? Arrêtez.”
“Un moment,” he called, his voice from farther away than they would have liked. “I’m looking for the toilettes.”
“That isn’t the way. Please turn back, sir.”
But now there was silence, except for the disconcerting sound of the Chief Inspector’s footfalls getting farther and farther away.
