Chapter 30
The car crested the hill, then began its slow descent into Three Pines, passing the bench with its inscription.
Surprised by Joy.
Then, below that, the Marilynne Robinson paraphrase: May you be a brave man in a brave country.
It was as though the bench were a gatekeeper, etching the words into itself as enchantments. With its tattooed incantations, it stood guard over this tiny Québec village not found on any map.
As their vehicle rounded the village green and passed the three immense pines, Jean-Guy hoped and prayed they would not be followed and found.
Not just for their sake, but for the sakes of everyone who’d found refuge there from a world not always kind.
Who’d been surprised by joy when they realized Three Pines wasn’t just a haven, it was home.
As he parked, he knew the biggest hurdle was going to be convincing Reine-Marie to let Marcus Lauzon into her home. Though, as it turned out, that was not a problem.
“I’m sorry, Minister, but from what I’ve seen these people have done nothing wrong.”
The RCMP guard in full gear had closed the door behind her, and now cradled her carbine across her chest. She looked uncomfortable.
It was not easy to refuse a direct order.
“I said arrest them, Captain Pinsent,” demanded the Minister of Defense. “This is a matter of public security! You saw what they did.”
“I saw her”—the officer nodded toward Shona—“behaving like a journalist, which she is. And I saw him raising his voice. If everyone who shouted in Parliament was arrested, the place would be empty. And she”—now she turned to Lacoste—“took a hit. From my rifle. And for that I am sorry, and ashamed.”
“It could have been far worse,” said Isabelle. “You pulled your blow.”
“It should never have happened. No, Minister. Enough. I will not arrest them.”
The RCMP officer raised her head in defiance.
The Minister of Defense glared at her, then turned to Shona, who bumped into the Chief Inspector as she backed away. Her eyes were wide with fear.
“It’s a shame you weren’t able to record that,” the Minister said to Shona, smiling.
“What?” said Shona.
“What’s happening?” asked Captain Pinsent, looking from one to the other.
“You passed the decency test,” said the Minister. “We need to get them out of here. What do you suggest?”
“Me?” said Captain Pinsent, trying to catch up with what just happened. “A minute ago you wanted me to arrest them, now you want me to help them escape? Refusing to arrest them is one thing, aiding and abetting an escape is another.”
“You said yourself, we’re not criminals. We haven’t been arrested. We’re detained against our will, illegally,” said Gamache. “It’s not a question of abetting. We’re free to leave.”
“Even if that’s true, sir, we’re on lockdown. I can’t even leave.” She looked at them all before landing on Trudel. “Madame Minister, you need to tell me what’s happening.”
“I’m sorry, there isn’t time.”
“You need to trust us,” said Gamache.
She was the commander of the unit, in a leadership position. It would have taken her years to get there. The Chief Inspector was aware they were asking her to throw all that away. To not just lose her job, but perhaps even be prosecuted.
She was also aware of that.
The moment stretched on.
“I know who you are,” she finally said. Not to Gamache, but to Isabelle Lacoste. “I’ve followed your career. Do you promise that you’re not planning any harm?”
It seemed both a hugely na?ve and perfectly appropriate question.
“I promise.”
“Okay. Okay.” She seemed to be convincing herself.
“Pinsent’s your name?” said Gamache. The RCMP officer nodded. “Captain Pinsent, we need our phones, and Inspector Lacoste needs her firearm.”
There was silence. That last request might’ve been an ask too far, but after considering, Pinsent nodded.
“I can escort you to the front door. We’ll probably make it that far without being questioned. Most of those on duty are my people.”
“‘Most’? ‘Probably’?” said Shona. “What happens if we are stopped?”
The officers exchanged a look.
“We’ll need a distraction,” said Lacoste. “Nothing alarming, just something to draw attention away. Give us a chance to get to the door, at least.”
“I’ll do it,” said the Minister of Defense. “I can fake a heart attack or stroke.”
“I doubt they’d fall for that twice,” said Lacoste.
“Twice? You mean Senator Walls—?”
“I’m sure he’ll make a full and speedy recovery,” said Gamache. “No. I’ll lead them away. They’ll follow me. They’ll be curious, but not alarmed. Besides, I know my way around these buildings.”
Isabelle stared at him, trying to decide if that was true.
“Where will we rendezvous?” she asked.
Gamache thought. “Under the first bridge across the canal.”
That was where his parents had told him to go should he get separated from them. They would find him. They promised.
“D’accord,” said Lacoste.
The Minister of Defense looked at her phone. “Shit, I’m supposed to be in a cabinet meeting. It’s about to start.”
“Go,” said Gamache.
“If you need help…”
“You’ve done your part.”
“Okay, but I’m sure I could do a convincing heart attack. I’m not that far off.”
“Perhaps another time,” said Armand. “Merci.”
She opened the door and peered out. “There’re two assistants at their desks and two RCMP guards.”
“My people,” said Captain Pinsent. “I’ll reassign them.”
“And I’ll get rid of the assistants,” said the Minister.
They both left. Less than a minute later Captain Pinsent returned. “Follow me.”
Once in the anteroom, Gamache looked at the door into the PM’s office. He was tempted to go in and rifle the desk, knowing Woodford would be in the cabinet meeting. But there was no time for that.
He reached for the door into the main hallway, but Pinsent stopped him.
“There’re other guards out there, not under my command.”
Gamache nodded. “I understand.” He looked at Lacoste and Shona. “You know what to do.”
“Meet you under the bridge,” said Shona.
Isabelle held Armand’s eyes and nodded. Knowing he meant more than the rendezvous, should all this go terribly wrong.
“When you leave, head to the right,” said Pinsent.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” said Gamache. He saw Lacoste’s eyes open in genuine amusement. And she saw his genuine delight. Who knew the phrase would finally come in handy?
With that, he opened the door and strolled out as though he owned the place. As though he not only belonged but was in charge.
About twenty paces on he turned and saw the guards looking at him, perplexed. Then one of them called, “Stop there, please, sir.”
He did not.
Reine-Marie ran out onto the porch to meet them, followed by Clara, Myrna, and Ruth.
“Jean-Guy, where’s Armand? Is he all right? Is Isabelle?”
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.
Now the guards, still not worried enough to sound the alarm but getting closer as the Chief got farther away, picked up their pace.
Soon his steps could no longer be heard.
They finally came to a more remote bathroom. The senior officer motioned the junior to enter. He returned a moment later.
“He’s not here.”
“Damn!”
The doors opened. Isabelle and Shona stepped into the bright sunshine and crisp autumn air.
Captain Pinsent had decided to stay behind. To leave with them would be desertion, and she was not willing to go that far.
“You’ll be detained,” said Lacoste. Or worse, she thought.
“I know.” Or worse, she thought. “You’d better make it worth it.”
“Merci,” said Isabelle, and marveled again how quickly friendships were formed in battle. And this was a battle.
As the door closed behind them and Captain Pinsent headed to her fate, Isabelle looked around, getting her bearings. Parliament Hill was deserted, the police cordon in effect. The tall, emblematic Peace Tower loomed behind them, and ahead was the eternal flame.
“This way,” said Shona, walking swiftly to their left.
“How do you know?”
“My mother brought me here once. We skated on the canal, and she said if I was ever lost, I should meet her under the bridge.”
Isabelle followed. She knew perfectly well what had happened to Shona’s mother, and that the journalist blamed Gamache. And that once this was over, there’d be a reckoning.
They could see the bridge. It seemed a long way off.
“What does it mean that Manon Payette has your gun?”
“Not Manon Payette, Marie Lauzon.”
“Right. Shouldn’t we—” Shona looked behind her.
“Go back? Non. We wouldn’t get ten feet, and that wouldn’t help him.”
They needed to get their part done and trust he’d join them soon. First, though, they had to get under that bridge and regroup, before all hell broke loose. And it was about to.