The Nature of the Beast (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #11)
Page 139They hung up and Beauvoir glared at the phone, not daring to look at his father-in-law. He knew why Gamache wanted Cohen to stay behind.
It was a terrible thing he was about to do.
CHAPTER 38
“That’s insane.” Then, after a tense pause, Isabelle Lacoste added, “Sir. Even if we could get Fleming out of the SHU and bring him here, it would be like releasing a plague.”
“We have”—Gamache looked at the clock on the train station wall—“three hours and five minutes until the news breaks and there’s no going back. It takes two hours to drive to the SHU. Agent Cohen will have to leave now.”
“I can tell the time, patron,” said Lacoste. “What I can’t tell is if you’ve lost your mind. I understand the equation, I really do. But I agree with Inspector Beauvoir. There’s a better-than-average chance Fleming’s lying. That he has absolutely no idea where the plans are. And then what? Arms dealers might still find the plans before we do, and John Fleming will certainly kill again once he escapes. Because he will escape. And you know who his first victim will be?”
They looked over at Agent Cohen, who was watching them from across the room. He dropped his eyes and pretended to wipe something off his slacks.
“It has to be done,” said Gamache.
“And we get what we need. Look,” said Gamache. “You know what will happen if someone else finds the plans to Project Babylon first. Fleming will seem like a cartoon character compared to what would happen then.”
He glanced over at Adam Cohen.
“If I could go in his place I would, but only Adam can do what we need done. Only he can get Fleming out. He worked there for eighteen months. He knows the SHU, he knows the guards and the system. It gives me no pleasure, but this task falls to him. It has to happen, Isabelle.”
Gamache tried to mask his frustration. For years, decades, he’d consulted his team, but the final decision was always his. Now, though, he needed Isabelle Lacoste to agree, and to act.
“You’re talking about getting John Fleming out of the SHU?” asked Adam Cohen. He was leaning toward them. “I’m sorry, but I overheard.”
They turned to the young man and Gamache took a step toward him.
“Do you think you can do it?”
“I think so.”
He looked both determined and about to run away. His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated, his skin was not just pale but gray. A man about to jump off a cliff, hoping he’d sprout wings.
“I’m sorry to ask, sir, but are you sure it’s such a good idea?”
“We just need to know if you think it’s possible,” said Gamache reassuringly. “No decision has been made yet.”
“But John Fleming,” said Cohen. “He’s not…” Cohen searched for the right way to put it. “He’s not a normal person.”
It was such an understatement it was almost funny. But the look of sheer terror on the young man’s face made amusement impossible.
“Let me go with him,” said Beauvoir. “We can’t send him alone.”
His words said one thing, but his eyes were begging them to disagree. To not send him there at all, and certainly to not send him alone.
“Excuse us,” Lacoste said to Agent Cohen with exaggerated courtesy, and took the other two deeper into the Incident Room. “We have to come to a decision.”
She looked at Beauvoir, at Gamache. She glanced over at Agent Cohen, then up to the clock.
“All right. We’ll send him to the SHU. As you said, it’ll take two hours for him to get there, and we have just over three until the broadcast. We don’t have to decide about Fleming until later, but Agent Cohen will at least be in place.”
Gamache and Beauvoir nodded and Isabelle Lacoste walked back to Adam Cohen.
“This is not sanctioned,” she said. “If you go, you need to be aware of what will almost certainly happen. Even if we’re successful, and you get Fleming out and return him, we will all be fired and probably brought up on charges. Do you understand?”
“My uncle has a poutine stand,” he said. “I think I can get us all jobs there.”