Page 162

“Give me the gun.” Armand held his hand out.

While he hadn’t heard the weapon being pulled, he had sensed a presence and turned quickly, just as a hand grasped his jacket and yanked him backward.

Even as he fought to stay on his feet, instinct told him it wasn’t one of the RCMP officers. They’d have made themselves known in ways that would have been unmistakable and unpleasant.

This was different. Though also unpleasant.

The guards patrolling the corridor had passed by, and now he found himself in an indent in the stone wall, hidden behind one of the tall filing cabinets. With a gun pointed at his chest.

“Please”—his voice a whisper—“Madame Lauzon.”

“So, you know who I am?”

“I didn’t recognize you,” he admitted. “It’s been, what? Twenty years?”

“Twenty-two, as you know perfectly well.”

It was true. He knew to the day how long it had been since he’d arrested her for manslaughter, a charge her politician father had had dropped. And the high-stakes match with Marcus Lauzon had begun.

He looked down at the weapon still pointed at him. “That’s dangerous. Please give it to me.”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

That shocked him. “Why would I do that?”

“My father always told me to stay well away from you. To be careful whenever I went home to Québec. That you had it in for both of us and had the weight of the entire Sûreté behind you.”

“He was wrong.” Armand noticed that in her other hand she was gripping some files. “Why are you still here? You could’ve gotten out long ago.”

“I was about to, but then I heard that you’d escaped, so I waited for you.”

“Here? In the basement?”

“Where else would you go? If you were going to escape, it wouldn’t be through the front door.” She looked around. “Where’re the others?”

“They escaped out the front door.”

“Come on.”

“Really.” At least, I hope …

“How?” She thought about it. “They must’ve had help. One of the guards?”

Armand considered, then nodded. Everyone would know soon enough. “Captain Pinsent. We can’t stand here forever. Do you really plan to pull the trigger?”

“I will if I have to. You’ve caused my father, my family, enough pain. He’s a good man, you know. Far better than you realize. I needed to find out where you really stand.”

“I think you know where I stand and have all along.” He glanced down at the gun, which had not moved. “Just as you know what you did all those years ago. I wasn’t the one on the wrong side of the law then, and I’m not now.”

She looked about to argue, but instead exhaled, suddenly tired. “I need you to read this.”

She held out the files.

“I will, but first…”

She hesitated, then handed over the gun. He’d recognized it right away as Sûreté issue and knew it must be Isabelle’s. He quickly took out the magazine.

“We’ll be unarmed,” she said.