“You came here knowing the connection with Guillaume Couture, but you didn’t say anything,” said Gamache, his voice rising slightly. “You didn’t warn us, you didn’t warn Antoinette Lemaitre.”

She was silent.

“We could have saved her.”

“You could do nothing,” she snapped. “You’ve discovered more than I would have thought possible, but you have no idea what you’ve gotten hold of. Back off. Step away.”

“Why? So more people can die while you pursue whatever your own goals are?” he demanded. “And what are they exactly?”

“You’re right, we knew about Dr. Couture, of course we did,” said Mary Fraser. “But we all assumed Project Babylon died with Gerald Bull. There were rumors a gun had been built, but rumors are rife in the intelligence community, most put out as misdirection. We kept Couture under surveillance for a few years, but like you, he’d retired down here and grew tomatoes and roses and joined a bridge club, and faded away. The threat faded away.”

“Until the gun was found.”

“Yes. That was a surprise,” she admitted.

“Why didn’t you tell us about Guillaume Couture when you first saw the gun?” Beauvoir demanded. “Why didn’t you tell us about his role in creating Project Babylon, and the fact he lived in the area and had a niece?”

She said nothing.

“You didn’t want us to know,” said Beauvoir. “You want—”

Gamache placed a hand on Beauvoir’s arm, and he stopped talking.

Mary Fraser had not looked at Beauvoir when he spoke, but continued to keep Gamache in her sights.

“That was wise, Monsieur Gamache.”

Beauvoir was staring at Gamache, unclear why he’d stopped him.

“We’re here on official business, Monsieur Gamache. For CSIS. But there is someone you should be asking yourselves about. Michael Rosenblatt. Why is he still here?”

It was, Gamache thought, an evasion on her part. An attempt to redirect his attention. But it was also, he had to admit, a question that was making its way to the top of his list.

“Why do you think Professor Rosenblatt’s still here?” Beauvoir asked.

“I have no idea,” she said. “That’s your concern, not mine. I have one brief, and that’s to make sure no one else ever builds a weapon like the one we found in the woods. That’s all I care about.”

“That’s all?” asked Beauvoir. “And the human cost?”

She looked at the younger man as though he’d said something adorable. A child learning to pronounce words he couldn’t possibly understand.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” Gamache asked her.

“I honestly don’t care,” Mary Fraser said.

“I see someone who’s been tunneling in the dark for so long you’ve gone blind.”