The guard tested them, tugging on them to make sure they were secure.

“He’s all yours,” said Cohen’s friend, handing him the keys. “You’ll have to sign for him.”

He gave Cohen his own device and indicated where he needed to sign.

Cohen did. “That’s new.”

“I guess we got them after you left. Dedicated devices and network. Can’t be hacked.”

In the backseat Fleming smiled. You can guard against anything, except, of course, a betrayal.

“Merci,” said Cohen, shaking the guard’s hand. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“No rush.”

*   *   *

“Something’s blocking the transmission,” said Professor Rosenblatt.

“What does that mean?” asked Gamache.

“It means your young agent might not even realize he’s not getting messages. All the bars would light up, everything would look normal, and is, but the messages wouldn’t be registering.”

“How do we get around it?” Lacoste asked.

“You can’t. It’s not a software issue,” said Rosenblatt. “It’s the hardware. He’d have to have one of their devices.”

“Call the SHU,” said Gamache. “Get him back.”

*   *   *

Cohen put the car in gear, but kept his foot on the brake.

His device was sitting in the cupholder.

“Let’s go,” said Fleming. “What’re you waiting for?”

Picking up his device, Cohen decided to call Chief Inspector Lacoste, to confirm. He punched her contact number and saw Dialing on the screen.

And then the message Unable to Connect.

Of course, he thought. She’s in Three Pines. There’s no cell phone service.

“Come on,” said Fleming. “You’re wasting time. Your boss won’t like that.”

Cohen put his phone down and the car rolled forward. And stopped.

“Now what?”

Cohen picked up his device and called the landline in the Incident Room.

Dialing. Dialing.

Unable to Connect.

That was strange.

“Time’s a-wasting,” said Fleming. “Every moment counts. You know that.”

But his soft, flawed voice held an edge of anxiety.

Agent Cohen looked in the rearview mirror at the glowing eyes and eager, hungry face. Then he looked down at his device. All five bars were lit up. The network was connected. And yet there were no messages. None at all. From anyone, in over forty-five minutes.

And then he remembered his friend’s new device.

With hands that trembled so badly he almost dropped the phone, he punched into the utilities mode, took out the penitentiary code, put in his own, and the device started lighting up.

It vibrated, the red light flashed. And it started ringing.

In the backseat, John Fleming saw this and started pulling, yanking, on the chains binding him to the vehicle.

*   *   *

The operator put Lacoste through to the guard room. The phone rang, and was picked up, just as her line indicated an incoming.