By the time Gus finished, Nick and John were crooning in the background, snapping their fingers to the beat. Quinn began giggling. Nick lifted his son from the carriage. “I think it’s time for chow, huh kid?”
Nick began feeding the baby. “Paul said we have ninety-seven percent approval. Apparently the media’s continuing Islamist love fest falls on deaf ears amongst the real victims in all this: American citizens. Okay, pure speculation, gentlemen. What do you guys think Phil Salvatore did to get a firing notice? I’m thinking he retired on the job and skipped even checking on the office in SF he runs.”
“I bet he fired someone because they wouldn’t kiss his ass,” Gus offered.
“I think just the opposite, Payaso,” John said. “Phil probably hired on someone with connections somewhere who has no job description other than collecting a pay check.”
“Those are all good ones,” Nick said. “One of them is right. I doubt Phil could do much more at a passport office he only sees a couple times a week, if that.”
“Never underestimate the imagination of a Washington DC bureaucrat, Muerto,” Gus replied. “He’s been playing in the big leagues of favor trading. Getting demoted down to passport office clerk would be the supreme slap in the face to him. There’s no telling what Phil found to trade.”
Nick glanced at Jean and Sonny throwing bread crumbs in the air for the birds hovering near their hands. “I hope for Sonny’s sake you’re wrong, Payaso. I like that kid. That apple didn’t fall far from the tree, it fell into the next orchard. Damn, the Irish tastes good this morning after the Kaders. If Quinn wasn’t with me, I’d probably let the buzz float me through two or three more. He’s a hungry boy this morning. Quinn sucked down that whole bottle without a burp. That could be trouble. C’mon, up you go kid. Don’t decorate my windbreaker.”
Quinn let out a satisfying burp and laughed. Nick did a quick inspection. “Well done. Now that was a burp, little man, and no residue – very nice.”
A moment later Nick’s iPhone pinged. It was Paul Gilbrech. “Wow, that was fast, Paul. I don’t know whether to applaud your information gathering skills or get ready for a bomb of bad news.”
“Salvatore gave five completely vetted passports to an unknown party,” Paul said. “They’re not only firing him. The State Department is considering felony charges. The payoff was one million. One of his workers at the San Francisco office noticed all five passports were done by Salvatore, and all sent to a P.O. Box now closed. She jotted down the names and reported it. State gave it over to Justice, and they put an FBI team on it to track video from the post office where the P.O. Box was to no avail. The team did find the financial trail directly to the idiot’s bank account under his wife’s maiden name. When they went to the San Francisco office to check further on the passport info, the data had been scrubbed. They think the passports were used immediately and then discarded. The passport names were immediately flagged, but too late for them to not be used at the guess where Canadian crossing?”
“Douglas Crossing.” Nick took a deep breath while looking down at Quinn. “Do they believe Phil scrubbed the data too?”
“Affirmative. He was notified yesterday of his suspension and ordered to appear in the San Francisco office tomorrow where the FBI agents investigating the matter will be interrogating him. Salvatore was ordered to bring all his office materials with him. Here’s the kicker, Nick. I talked to one of the FBI agents. He told me it would have been standard operating procedure to not say anything to Salvatore before streaking down there with a warrant to confiscate everything in his home.”
“I bet you’re working on the identity of whomever took the laid back approach to Phil, aren’t you?”
“Working on it, but one name on the Senate Oversight of the Judiciary Committee that watches over the FBI is an interesting one: Senator Diane Cameron. This is serious, Nick. If not for the passport office woman stumbling over the discrepancy in time to jot down the names and report it, there would have been no trail at all. I hate to ask this, but could you have a friendly talk with Salvatore?”
“I will do so, but how friendly are we talking about?”