Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [101]
“Nasty business,” he said through tight lips.
“Yes, sir.”
“I did my best to stop this, Colonel.”
“There’s no need to explain, sir.”
“There damn well is,” Clarke replied gruffly. “You were following my orders.”
“You made me aware of the risks, sir.”
“I want you to know that your new assignment was my doing. But before you jump to any conclusions, understand this: If I hadn’t intervened, you were going to be buried under Thatcher’s thumb for the next two years and ground into mincemeat. One way or another you would have been cashiered from the service with the loss of all benefits. The Iraq assignment gets you out of here and gives you the chance to retire with honor once you have your twenty in.”
“At this point I could care less about that, sir.”
“Understood, Colonel. You are not alone in your feelings about the current conduct of military affairs in our country. I’ve been asked to hang up my soldier’s suit and retire. I’ll be leaving at the end of the month.”
“Sir, if you’ll excuse me, that sucks.”
“Yes, it does.” Clarke smiled. “You would have made a fine general officer, Colonel. But unfortunately, like me, you’re one lousy bureaucrat.”
“Its been an honor to have known you, sir, and to have served with you.”
“Likewise, Colonel.” Clarke stood. “When you get to Iraq, you’ll be assigned to Slam Norton’s brigade. You won’t have to worry about any political booby traps with him. He’s a good man, a stud officer, and a first-rate leader. Do your job well and he’ll make sure you’ll get a decent posting when you rotate back home.”
Sara got to her feet. “Thank you, sir.”
“Be careful and stay safe, Colonel,” Clarke said, as he stepped forward and shook Sara’s hand.
“Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”
Clarke’s aide, who had waited for her in the outer office, took Sara through security, and she caught the Metro with her thoughts in a jumble. What should she do with the Arlington house? Rent it? Put it on the market? There wasn’t time to do anything. Kerney would have to deal with it.
What would she tell Kerney? Sorry, but I’m going to Iraq and I can’t tell you what I did to screw things up. What should they do about Patrick? What would be best for him? What would the upheaval do to him?
She got off the Metro at the Arlington station, carrying the cardboard box, feeling that her world had fallen into ruins around her feet. She wasn’t about to let herself cry, although she could feel the wetness stinging at the corners of her eyes.
Because of Sara Brannon, Hugh Fitzmaurice would forevermore think of the interrogation rooms at Dublin Castle as the dungeon. It was there that Spalding waited under the watchful eye of an officer while Fitzmaurice brought RCMP Inspector Weber up to date on the investigation. Weber, an old-school peeler who paid attention to detail, took his time going through the book of evidence Fitzmaurice had assembled.
“What about the Swiss account Spalding has been siphoning money into?” Weber asked when he’d finished.
“Colonel Brannon thought it might belong to Carrier,” Fitzmaurice replied. “But in fact the account is owned by Spalding’s ex-wife. Which means, of course, it could rightfully belong to your government.”
“Excellent,” Weber replied, his gray eyes smiling. “I’ll start the process with the Swiss to learn the particulars. Will you be bringing charges against Spalding?”
“I’d like to use that possibility as a bargaining chip with him,” Fitzmaurice said. “If your embassy made an official request to Garda Headquarters not to do so, it would most probably be granted without delay.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I’ll make a telephone call.”
Weber stroked his chin. “What if the embassy also asked for an expedited extradition hearing on Spalding?”
“We could help to hurry it along.”
“How much time can you give me?