daughter
.
âStaff Sergeant Quaile here to see you,â announced his secretary.
Moments later, Quaile was seated in an overstuffed leather chair facing Isaacâs desk while nervously wondering why he had been summoned.
For management purposes, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was broken down into four nationwide regions: the Atlantic, Central, NorthWest, and Pacific Regions. Isaac was the Criminal Operations Officer who oversaw all the operational investigations in the Pacific Region. It made Quaile feel like he had just been invited into the inner sanctum of power.
âYouâve been in charge of the Intelligence Unit for three months now,â observed Isaac.
âYes, sir,â replied Quaile. âThree months today, actually.â
Isaac nodded. It was a date he had already noted in his Day-timer from when Quaile first arrived to the section. His piercing eyes examined Quaile closely and he said, âI wanted to wait until you had ... a feel ... for the office before having this conversation with you. A conversation that for now will remain between the two of us.â
âYes, sir?â
âI want to talk with you about Corporal Taggart.â
âSir?â
âAre you familiar with the more unusual aspects of someof his past investigations?â
âI heard he was in a shootout with some bikers two years ago. Also that someone tried to kill him last year.â
Isaac nodded knowingly and said, âHeâs had a rather lively career. Outstanding in some aspects. But ...â Isaac paused and glanced down at his desk before continuing, âIâm not exactly sure how I should word this. Thereâs never been any proof,â he muttered, more to himself than to Quaile.
âProof, sir? Of what?â
âOf any wrongdoing on the part of Corporal Taggart. This is the dilemma. He could be completely innocent. Incredibly lucky, perhaps. His predictions in his reports about organized crime families have been remarkably accurate.â
âThat concerns you, sir?â
âNo,â said Isaac, brusquely. âThat is
not
what concerns me. What concerns me is that key people he works on end up dead! That is what concerns me!â
âDead?â said Quaile, sounding dumbfounded. âYou mean likeâI donât understand.â
âIâll give you a quick history lesson. Three years ago, Corporal Taggart worked on a notorious French bank robber who was the ringleader in a gang that robbed banks across Canada. They were responsible for wounding and paralyzing a female officer in Quebec. Two months after Taggart starts to work on them, suddenly the gang believes their boss is an informant and kills him.â
âWas he Taggartâs informant?â
âNo.â
âOh, I see,â said Quaile, wondering what Isaac meant.
âThat investigation followed another where a corrupt prosecutor working for Satans Wrath had ...â
âHad the bikers go after Taggartâs niece and nephew. I heard about that,â said Quaile.
âAnd did you hear that this prosecutor was later found dead in his swimming pool?â
âYes, sir. An accidental drowning, I was told.â
â
Maybe
it wasâbut it happened in Mexico at the same time Taggart was in Mexico.â
Quaile swallowed nervously when he realized the implication.
âPerhaps that was just a coincidence,â continued Isaac. âThen, last year, a Colombian drug lord tried to kill Taggart and terrorized the family of Constable Danny OâReilly, who was Taggartâs partner. A short time later, Taggart went to Colombia, allegedly to work on an unrelated investigation. Within a day of his arrival the drug lord and thirty of his men were murdered.â
âTaggart did that?â asked Quaile, his eyes wide and his mouth dropping open.
âNo, Iâm not saying that he did. Itâs just that ... well, quite frankly, it has crossed my mind