At first it had amused Tessier, but then the smile had burned away when he realized there was someone who scared the most frightening man he knew.
Francoeur finally sat back, rocking a little in the chair.
“I need to get back to my guests. I see it went well.”
“Perfectly.” Tessier kept his face placid, his voice neutral. He’d learned to mirror his boss. “We got completely kitted out, drove there in the assault van. By the time we got there Beauvoir could barely stand. I made sure some of the evidence ended up in a baggie in his pocket, with my compliments.”
“I don’t need to know the details,” said Francoeur.
“Sorry, sir.”
It wasn’t, Tessier knew, because Francoeur was squeamish. It was that he just didn’t care. All he cared about was that it was done. The details he left up to his subordinates.
“I want him sent on another raid.”
“Another?”
“Do you have a problem with that, Inspector?”
“It’s a waste of time, in my opinion, sir. Beauvoir’s had it. He’s past the edge now, hanging in midair. He just hasn’t fallen. But he will. There’s no way back for him and nothing to go back to. He’s lost everything, and he knows it. Another raid is unnecessary.”
“Is that so? You think this is about Beauvoir?”
The calm should have warned him. The slight smile certainly should have. But Inspector Tessier had taken his eyes off Francoeur’s face.
“I realize this is about Chief Inspector Gamache.”
“Do you?”
“But did you see here—” Tessier leaned forward and pointed to the computer screen. He didn’t see that the Chief Superintendent’s eyes never left him. Never wavered. Barely blinked.
“The psychologist’s report, Dr. Fleury. Gamache was so upset he went to see him today. A Saturday.”Too late, he looked up into those glacier eyes. “We picked this off Dr. Fleury’s computer late this afternoon.”
He hoped for some sign of approval. A slight thaw. A sign of life. But all he met was the dead stare.
“He says Gamache is spinning out of control. Delusional even. Don’t you see?” And even as he said that he could have shot himself. And might have. Francoeur saw everything, ten steps ahead of everyone else. Which was why they were on the verge of success.
There’d been a few unexpected setbacks. The raid on the factory was one. The dam plot discovered. Gamache again.
But that’s what made this report all the sweeter. The Chief Superintendent should be pleased. Then why was he looking like that? Tessier felt his blood cool and grow thick and his heart labor.
“If Gamache ever tries to go public, his own therapist’s report can be leaked. His credibility will be gone. No one will believe a man who…” Tessier looked over at the report, desperate to find that perfect sentence. He found it and read, “… is suffering from persecution mania. Seeing conspiracies and plots.”
Tessier scrolled down, reading fast. Trying to create a wall of reassuring words between himself and Francoeur.
“Chief Inspector Gamache is not simply a broken man,” he read, “but shattered. When I return from Christmas vacation I will recommend he be relieved of duty.”
Tessier looked up and met, again, those arctic eyes. Nothing had changed. Those words, if they penetrated, had only found more ice. Colder. Older. Endless.
“He’s isolated,” said Tessier. “Inspector Lacoste is the only one left of his original investigators. The rest have either transferred out on their own or been moved by you. His last senior ally, Superintendent Brunel, has even abandoned him. She also thinks he’s delusional. We have the recordings from her office. And Gamache refers to it here.”
Once again Tessier rifled through the therapist’s report. “See? He admits they’ve left for Vancouver.”
“They may have gone, but they got too close.” Francoeur spoke at last. “Thérèse Brunel’s husband turned out to be more than a weekend hacker. He almost figured it out.”
The voice was conversational, at odds with the glacial look.
“But he didn’t,” said Tessier, eager to reassure his boss. “And it scared him shitless. Brunel shut down his computer. Hasn’t turned it on since.”
“He saw too much.”
“He has no idea what he saw, sir. He won’t be able to put it together.”
“But Gamache will.”
It was Tessier’s turn to smile. “But Dr. Brunel didn’t tell him. And now he and the Superintendent are in Vancouver, as far from Gamache as they could get. They’ve abandoned him. He’s on his own. He admitted as much to his therapist.”