Gamache read the song list. “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?” “Michael Row the Boat Ashore.” “Wimoweh.” He smiled. That had been Annie’s favorite song as a baby. He too was a Pete Seeger fan. Or had been until he’d spent the first year of her life listening to “the lion sleeps tonight.” All day and all night.
He scanned the rest of the songs. All classic folk tunes, including “Turn! Turn! Turn!” Gamache had forgotten Seeger had written that song, based on Ecclesiastes.
“To everything there is a season,” he said.
“Pardon?” said Lacoste. “What did you say?”
“Al Lepage has cassette tapes in his pickup truck.”
He handed her the cassette and wondered if, in driving Laurent home, he’d delivered the boy into the hands of his murderer.
* * *
“General Langelier? This is Chief Inspector Lacoste, with the Sûreté du Québec.”
“Good evening, Chief Inspector.”
There was slight censure in his voice. Clearly a late call to the armed forces base was not to his liking. She could almost see him looking at his watch and thinking that the United States had better be invading, or this call was not warranted.
It was past eight in the evening and she was alone in the Incident Room. They’d had sandwiches and drinks brought over from the bistro, and worked through dinner.
She’d sent Jean-Guy off to organize their rooms at the B and B, and was just getting the paperwork done. How often had she left Chief Inspector Gamache alone in some far-flung incident room, in a shed, a barn, an abandoned factory? A single light burning late into the night.
And now it was night. And it was her light.
Sitting back in her chair, she’d stared at the photos on her computer. Then she’d looked up a number and made the call to Canadian Forces Base Valcartier.
It was only by some bullying and veiled threats that she got through to the base commander at his home.
“How can I help you, Chief Inspector?”
“I’m investigating a homicide and need your help.”
There was a pause before the clipped voice returned.
“Is there a link to the base here in Valcartier? Is one of my soldiers involved?”
“No, sir, not that we know of. It happened in the Eastern Townships, not far from the Vermont border.”
“Then why are you calling me? I’m sure you know we’re a long way from there.”
“Yes, sir. Your base is just outside Quebec City, but we’ve found something you might be interested in.”
“What?”
She could hear his anxiety lower and his curiosity rise.
“A huge missile launcher. I’ve done some research and I can’t find anything even remotely like it.”
“A missile launcher? In the Townships?” General Langelier was clearly perplexed. “We don’t have an armed forces base there. Never have. What’s it doing there?”
She almost laughed, but didn’t. “That’s why I’m calling you. We don’t know. And this is no ordinary missile launcher. As I said, it’s massive.”
“Well, yes, they are,” he said. “Are you sure that’s what it is? Maybe it’s some farm tool, or logging equipment.”
“I can send you a few pictures of it.”
“If you’d like.” His interest was waning.
He gave her his secure email and she knew when they’d arrived by the whispered “Merde” down the phone line.
There was silence as he examined them.
“Is that a person standing next to it?” Langelier asked, when he’d regained polite speech.
“Oui.”
“Tabernac,” he swore. “Are you sure?”
“I took the photograph myself this afternoon. It is a missile launcher, non? Not a milking machine?”
“Oui.” He sounded distracted, lost in thought. “I don’t know what to tell you, Chief Inspector. It’s not like anything I’ve seen before. Frankly, while it’s huge, it looks like an antique, something that might’ve been used in the Second World War.”
“Could it be from then? Maybe something put there for defense and abandoned?”
“We don’t just leave weapons scattered about in the woods,” he said. “And the defenses were out to sea, not pointing inland. Does it work?”
“We don’t know that either. That’s why I’m calling you. We need help assessing this.”
“Are there missiles with it?” he asked. “Is the weapon armed?”