“Oui. Oh, and patron.” Gamache paused a few paces away. Lacoste walked back to him. “I’m sorry. I was wrong about Laurent. I should have looked more closely.”

“I know you’ll find out who did this to him. That’s all that matters.”

Gamache waited until she’d disappeared inside, then walked over to the two young agents.

“I know you think this is beneath you,” he said. “And that I’m some feeble old man, but I’m begging you. Stay alert. Keep your eyes open. This is no joke. Do you understand?”

“Yessir,” said Agent Brassard.

“Agent Favreau?”

“You’re not with the force anymore. You have no authority over me.”

Gamache stared into the defiant eyes. “We’ll see.”

*   *   *

Lacoste looked around, acclimating to the strange new environment. Inspector Beauvoir was directing the Scene of Crime and forensics teams, and once he’d set them in motion he joined her.

Together they walked over to the spot where agents were setting up a cordon of yellow police tape. Beauvoir’s flighty beam played on the ground then came to rest on the stick. It was about ten feet from the entrance.

“He was killed here?” Lacoste asked.

“I think so,” said Beauvoir.

He saw her nod, then her own beam swept the ground, making larger and larger arcs, working its way outward. But Inspector Beauvoir saved her time.

The industrial lights they’d brought were just hooked up and he turned one on now, directing it straight ahead.

Isabelle Lacoste instinctively leaned away and even Beauvoir, who knew what was there, felt his heart stutter. Around them the well-choreographed activity of the Scene of Crime team stopped while the hardened agents stared.

Mon Dieu, they heard whispered, the words disappearing into the deadened space.

The gun was even more massive in this huge beam than it had appeared in the smaller light. Now they began to get the scale of the thing.

Agents pointed flashlights at it, like weapons. More floodlights were turned on. Playing over it, but not altogether capturing the enormity of it.

“He was telling the truth,” said Lacoste beneath her breath. “My God, Laurent wasn’t lying after all.”

Before them was a massive gun, a cannon, its long barrel stretching beyond the reach of their lights to disappear into the darkness.

Jean-Guy Beauvoir lowered his light until it hit the base. And there they saw a monster etched onto the metal, twisting, writhing out of the ground. Its wings were extended. Its many serpent heads coiling, entwining like the vines that had hidden it for decades.

“We’re going to need more light,” said Isabelle Lacoste. “And longer ladders.”

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

The Lepages had parked their truck on the road by the bistro and Gamache walked them back to it.

“I’ll make sure you’re told everything,” he said, leaning into the window as Al started it up.