Chapter 19 #3
“God, just what I need. More loons making up shit. And why would I set those fires? They’re a disaster.
Never mind the environmental catastrophe, but the other issue no one appreciates is the cost of fighting them.
And we all know there’ll be more, if not this year or next, then eventually.
” He looked out the window, and the others followed his gaze.
Sleet was drumming against it. He brought his attention back to the room.
“And now those fucking corporations want me to give them compensation for broken illegal contracts. And the American government’s hinting they also want compensation for all the ash.
” Prime Minister Woodford held up his hands.
“Forgive me. I asked for the job. You’re not here to listen to my problems.”
Gamache smiled. “I’m afraid we’re just adding to them. Pardon, I need to take this.”
He walked a few steps away to take the call, leaving Lacoste and the Prime Minister to stare at each other.
“Tell me, Inspector, do you really believe something else, something worse, is about to happen?”
“I do, sir. I know this must be incredibly frustrating for you, to have us come here but without anything specific.”
“No, no. Despite what I said, I do appreciate it. I need to know. Your Chief is right. I made the terrible mistake once of ignoring a warning. I won’t do it again.”
“That was Inspector Beauvoir,” said Gamache, slipping his phone back into his jacket pocket. “He’s going through the links on Langlois’s laptop, and one constant is a conspiracy theory that’s gaining traction.”
“What is it now?”
“That Canada is about to attack the US.”
That brought the conversation to a standstill.
Prime Minister Woodford stared from one to the other, resting his eyes finally on Gamache.
“So?”
It was not the reaction Armand expected. “So? You aren’t surprised?”
Now Woodford laughed. “I’m sorry, but you should sit there for an hour”—he pointed to his desk—“and you’d see that nothing is surprising.
My Chief of Staff came to me just yesterday with a site devoted to proving I’m an alien.
An extraterrestrial. I kid you not. There are more than twelve thousand followers.
Twelve thousand. Now, not all believe I came from some unfriendly planet, but if even one does…
” He shook his head. “I can’t be worried about the nutcases. I wouldn’t get anything done.”
“Still—”
“Yes, I know. It’s not generally the sane ones who take potshots.”
“Not just potshots.”
“Not to worry, Chief Inspector. Everything’s passed along to the RCMP, even the ludicrous ones.”
Politics was not just becoming more polarized, it was far more dangerous, with people on all sides giving themselves permission to act in the most horrific ways.
Ways that their grandparents would never recognize or approve of.
That they themselves would not have approved of just a few years ago.
All in the name of patriotism. A word, a concept, that had become weaponized, even toxic.
“So now, on top of all our environmental troubles, I’m supposed to be organizing an armed attack to take over the United States? Frankly, at this point we couldn’t invade Luxembourg and win. That’s just between us.”
“The people of Luxembourg will never hear it from me,” said Gamache.
The Prime Minister smiled wearily. It wasn’t yet nine a.m., and he seemed spent.
“The problem isn’t whether that’s planned,” said Gamache, feeling bad that he needed to keep pushing. “It’s that more and more people seem to believe it. Apparently, militias are being formed.”
“What? Really? To repel our attack? Let them play soldier as long as they don’t hurt any of our people.”
“Or you. Those sites will also be passed along to the RCMP and our intelligence services, and I’ll make sure the FBI and Homeland Security in the US get them. Most of these .onion sites seem to originate in the US, though it’s possible that’s just a port of convenience.”
“Like a flag of convenience for ships, to mask where they actually come from? I haven’t heard about internet ports of convenience.”
“I just made it up.”
Now Woodford really did laugh. “Well, I’d copyright that if I were you. Please tell me you made up the rest of it too.”
Gamache shook his head, then looked about to say something.
“What is it, Chief Inspector? Out with it. Our time is short.”
“Have you or your intelligence people heard anything out of the US about a thing called FEDS?”
“That’s the Fire Event Detection Suite. FEDS.
Yes, I know about it, but it’s not really an intelligence issue, is it, or a big secret?
It’s about tracking ash from megafires. Our meteorologists have access to FEDS, but after an initial flutter of excitement they had to admit it didn’t have many practical applications.
It’s not like it can stop or even predict a fire.
Though it is useful, I guess, in telling us where the ash will go.
To warn the population. But not helpful stopping it. ”
“Then why are we being warned about it?”
“We are? Warned? About FEDS?” Prime Minister Woodford looked confused. “In those files you found?”
Gamache chose not to tell him the FEDS references came from both General Whitehead and Marcus Lauzon. Instead, he waited for the PM to continue.
“I can’t think why a detection system could be important, but you seem to think it is.”
“Can you put me in touch with the Chief Meteorologist?”
“Absolutely. Make sure you have plenty of time. She loves to talk. Apparently she has a new dog. A golden retriever. How do I know that? She sends me photos. Every day. Is there anything else? I’m sorry, but I have a meeting to chair.”
He got up, as did Lacoste and Gamache. At the door, Gamache chose to stand right in front of the handle, so the PM couldn’t reach it.
“What happens, sir, when the water runs out?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Water. What happens to a country if it runs out?”
“Come on, Chief Inspector, that’s a ridiculous question. Something else from those dark web sites? Now our water’s drying up? Is that why we need to invade the States?”
He was trying to get at the door handle, but Gamache stood still, refusing to move out of the way, or answer.
Woodford finally gave up. “Common sense will answer that question. Without water there’s drought, then famine, then war, then death.
The UN just issued a warning about imminent wars for resources in drought-stricken areas of the world.
You haven’t been watching those disaster movies, Chief Inspector?
Spaceships going to distant planets because Earth is dying?
Jeez, maybe my home world can welcome the earthlings.
” It was said without humor. “Why’re you asking this? ”
Still the Chief Inspector refused to answer, or budge.
“Listen,” the Prime Minister exhaled in exasperation.
“Canada will never run out of fresh water, if that’s what you’re worried about.
We’re one of the lucky ones. What used to be laughed at, our vast forests and waterways, what was considered wilderness and dismissed as less important than manufacturing, has now become precious.
Envied. Can we do a better job of protecting our resources?
Absolutely. I campaigned on that platform and got huge pushback from corporations.
But the fact is, unlike most of the world, we’re blessed with more natural resources than we can possibly screw up.
So that’s one worry you can put out of your mind.
We will never have to find out what happens when the water runs out. ”
Gamache nodded, then put out his hand. “Thank you for your time. I wish we could have brought good news.”
“That’s okay. No one ever does. But please, next time be more specific.”
Woodford shook both their hands and finally managed to open the door. “I’m sorry about lecturing you about my stand on the environment. I’m afraid I’m never far from my soapbox. I think people have stopped inviting me to parties.” Now he smiled. “So that’s one good thing.”
Gamache also smiled. “Thank you for seeing us. Please don’t say anything to your colleagues about this just yet.”
“About what? I’m more in the dark now than ever. I just hope you get that bastard Moretti.”
“And please, be vigilant. Watch yourself.”
“Merci.” As the door closed, Prime Minister Woodford leaned against it.
“Oh, shit,” he whispered.