Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [85]
He called back the duty officers and told them to concentrate on looking for specific information to or from Brannon that pertained to the Spalding investigation.
Within the hour Thatcher hit pay dirt. Long after the case had been transferred, Brannon had requested a handwriting analysis on documents she’d requested from the Quartermaster Corp which showed that Thomas Loring Carrier had, during the Vietnam War, forged signatures on personal-effects release forms.
Brannon had obviously targeted Carrier as a member of the smuggling ring Spalding had operated in Vietnam, which was completely incredible to Thatcher. Tom Carrier was no common criminal. A born-again Christian and a great American, Carrier had the ear of important people in the president’s inner circle. Brannon’s assumptions about him were simply scurrilous.
Had Brannon sidestepped him because of his friendship with Carrier and taken her unfounded suspicions to General Clarke? If so, why now?
He ran a hand through his thinning hair. He didn’t like Brannon. She was an officer who subtly challenged his authority in ways that avoided outright censure, who had a pattern of consistently maneuvering behind his back, and had no allegiance to the command ethics of the army.
Thatcher tapped his fingers on the desktop. Brannon had been tasked by Clarke on a secret assignment one day after she’d learned from the RCMP that Spalding might have surfaced in Ireland. Could it be that was where Clarke had sent her?
Clarke had to know of Carrier’s ties to the White House, how he’d been a media point man to sell the administration’s handling of the war on terrorism. Had Clarke authorized the mission to find evidence that could embarrass the commander-in-chief by raising questions about a man closely associated with his war policies?
Thatcher smiled. As far as he could tell, he wasn’t a target after all, and foiling Lieutenant Colonel Sara Brannon’s mission for General Henry Powhatan Clarke might win him his second star. If he played his hand well, the result would be decidedly less pleasant for Brannon and Clarke. His smile widened in anticipation of the debt of gratitude Tom Carrier would owe him and the good days that loomed ahead.
In the morning Sara met Fitzmaurice in the hotel lobby. On the way to the car he gave her an update on the overnight activity. Spalding had made no new credit-card purchases, his boat hadn’t been spotted by the Irish Coast Guard, and Paquette had spent the evening clubbing with friends before retiring late to her hotel room.
“Is that it?” Sara asked.
“We’ve dropped surveillance on her,” Fitzmaurice said as he opened the car door for Sara. “But I’ve arranged for her hired driver to keep us informed of her whereabouts. All on the QT, of course.”
“Good.”
Fitzmaurice settled behind the steering wheel and handed Sara a file folder. “We have been able to determine the specifics of Spalding’s Irish citizenship claim based on the passport information we got during our visit to the Irish Sailing Association. He was granted citizenship by virtue of descent under the name of George McGuire, but the supporting documentation of his Irish-born grandparents was forged.”
Sara scanned the report.
“Also,” Fitzmaurice said, “we accessed the records of the mobile-phone account Spalding established under the name of McGuire. He’s been using it to communicate with the Dún Laoghaire solicitor who handled the conveyance of the villa. A detective spoke to the solicitor early this morning and learned that Paquette has signed a legal document that will transfer the property to Spalding at the end of the year by private treaty. Paquette stands to receive payment of half a million euros for the property. A far cry from the full value of the house, but a tidy sum nonetheless.”
“So Paquette is looking forward to a very profitable payday,” Sara said.
“In squeaky clean cash.” Fitzmaurice put the key into the ignition but didn’t start the engine. “The text