The Nature of the Beast
He looked at them, his eyes finally resting on the elderly scientist.
“Are you seriously saying that thing in the forest is the devil?”
“I’m not saying that, but you asked about the Whore of Babylon and that’s the answer. You can look it up yourselves or ask any biblical scholar. There’re all sorts of interpretations about what the beast and the seven heads represent, but most come to the same conclusion. She’s heading for Armageddon.”
“As was Gerald Bull,” said Lacoste. “In building the Supergun he was courting the end of the world.”
“Well now,” said Rosenblatt. He looked down at his feet, then up at her. “The community is divided on that. Many, probably most, think Dr. Bull was a mercenary. An arms dealer. A one-stop shop. He’d design, build and sell any weapon to the highest bidder.”
“And the others?” asked Gamache. “The minority?”
“They think Dr. Bull was a hero. That he was very clear about why he was building the Supergun, and who he was making it for. They believe he carved the beast on it as a sort of gesture. Like pilots in the Second World War often painted frightening images on their planes.”
“He called it Project Babylon,” said Gamache. “Why?”
“Who was the devil in the late 1980s?” Rosenblatt asked.
“The Soviet Union,” said Lacoste, remembering her history.
“The Cold War was waning,” said Gamache. “Yeltsin and President Gorbachev were bringing in glasnost.”
“Exactly,” said Rosenblatt. “But there was someone else. An ally who was fast becoming an enemy. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, to use another biblical image.”
“Babylon?” said Gamache. “Are you saying Gerald Bull built that thing for Saddam Hussein?”
He didn’t even try to keep the incredulity out of his voice, and he could only imagine the look on Jean-Guy’s face.
“You don’t believe it?” asked Professor Rosenblatt. The words fell into the silence in the room and drifted into the fireplace, to be burned.
“Would you?” asked Isabelle Lacoste, regarding the elderly man and wondering just how crazy he might be. The gun itself was hard enough to swallow, but she could at least see it, touch it. She knew it was real. But this was a step too far.
“I don’t suppose it really matters if you believe it or not,” said Rosenblatt, gathering up his papers. “You asked me here to tell you what I know. That’s what I know.”
He got up and Gamache rose with him.
“You didn’t believe the boy either,” said Rosenblatt quietly. “And look what happened.”
Gamache felt himself go numb, for a moment. As though the life had been snuffed out of him. And then he took a breath and sat back down.
“Please,” he said, indicating the seat beside him. Professor Rosenblatt hesitated, then took his seat again. “Tell us what you know about Project Babylon and Gerald Bull.”
Professor Rosenblatt looked at them, still seeing disbelief, but now also seeing a willingness to try. To be open to the possibility that what he was about to tell them was the truth.
“It was no secret that Saddam wanted to destroy Israel,” said Rosenblatt. “And start a full-scale war. He wanted to control the whole region.”
Gamache nodded, remembering the late 1980s, early nineties. To Beauvoir and Lacoste it was history. To him, and Rosenblatt, it was a memory.
“To be fair, there are all sorts of theories about Project Babylon,” said Rosenblatt. “Some more outlandish than others.”
No one looked at Beauvoir who, with a mighty effort, was keeping his mouth shut.
“Some even believed Dr. Bull was building the Supergun for the Israelis. To hit Iraq first. They’re pragmatists. They believe in God, but how do you fight the devil? With prayers? Well, Gerald Bull was the answer to a prayer.”
“But the Israelis have all sorts of sophisticated weapons,” said Lacoste. “Why would they need the Supergun?”
“They wouldn’t,” said Gamache. “But Saddam Hussein would.”
Across from him, Armand saw Beauvoir’s brows come together as logic began to penetrate disbelief.
“Yes,” said the scientist. “A weapon of mass destruction that could be assembled anywhere, the middle of a desert, for instance. Without need of electronics or expertise.”
“How would the missiles be aimed?” Gamache asked, remembering images of Israeli citizens wearing gas masks and huddling in their homes as the sirens wailed during the Gulf War.