The Export by J.K. Kelly (read along books txt) 📕

“the character told someone ‘Me mum didn’t raise no fool’ or something like that. I still think you’re here to set me up, not recruit me, but I need some more info, I’m hungry, and I’m willing to see which one of us is the smarter of the two.”

“Fair enough,” Matt replied. “I don’t want to insult you. I don’t know how good your legs are if you’ll excuse the frankness. If you can walk for a bit, I know a good spot nearby.”

After cutting across the grass of Green Park and then turning left on Piccadilly, he and Rogers arrived at the Hard Rock Café. With Aerosmith’s Walk This Way playing loudly in the background, Matt asked the hostess if they could find a table in a quieter area than the main room.

“So, for the record, I am recording our conversation,” Rogers informed his host.

“Me, too,” Matt lied. He was too smart to say anything here or anywhere else that wasn’t secure. Judging from Rogers’ facial expression, Matt thought he was lying, too.

After ordering food and a round of soft drinks, Matt sat back and began round two of the informal interview with a remark aimed at taking the focus off the extremely serious agenda.

“There are two places you can go in the world for a damn good cheeseburger,” he said with a smile. “Hiltons and Hard Rocks. No matter where I am, if I want a sure thing, this is one of the places I go.”

“You have someone back home?” Rogers asked.

“Nope,” Matt responded. “Travel too much and always found the encumbrances outweighed the entitlements.”

“That’s the way I always felt about it,” Rogers confessed. “Not good for the bird or the babies, being away killing bad guys and such. Easier to rent one.”

Finally, Matt thought, his walls might be starting to come down.

“Told you already about the Marines and the legs. Not much more to tell. My parents split up when I was 16, and I went to live with my Uncle Thomas until I finished school and joined the service. Girls love a man in uniform,” Rogers offered. “They just prefer them with all three legs working at one hundred percent.”

The server delivered their drinks and the appetizer of deep-fried cheese sticks that Matt had ordered for them.

“So speaking of women,” Matt began, “did you know any of the victims?”

“Getting straight into it then, ay?” Rogers protested. “Not even letting me down the burger before we get going?”

“Nope, not the case. I’m just curious.”

“Well I did, I knew a few of them,” Rogers stated and then went on to tell Matt about each of them. “The first girl – she was a quiet, hard-working young Anglo from down near Plymouth in the Southwest. She’d moved to London to start a better life and worked in the human resources department of MI5. Everyone liked her. Nice girl. Pretty girl. She did the paperwork when my uncle helped me land a job at MI5.”

“And the others?”

“Oh, another was a fine bird, if I may say so of the deceased,” Rogers said, Matt noting a bit of a gleam in the suspect’s eyes. “A real looker, and she knew it. Always had the bouncers out and about.”

“Bouncers?” Matt asked.

“Cupcakes, the girls, breasticles – you know – her damn breasts!”

“Any others?” Matt requested as he tried to knock the smile back.

“Look,” Rogers said sternly, “I’ve been interrogated by the best MI5 has to offer, and all this shat is in the recordings and notes. No more of this stuff. Let’s talk about you for a bit.”

Matt agreed. His intent had been to push Rogers to emotion, and he had now more than once.

“And here comes the meal, as if we had orchestrated this somehow,” Matt said with a smile. “Perfect timing.” Over the next 10 minutes, Matt gave Rogers the tour. He told him about his upbringing in Pennsylvania, time at Penn State, years at the FBI and the CIA, his run-in with political powers in Washington, and his love of mountains.

“In Pennsylvania, we have the Poconos. They call them mountains, but they’re just babies compared to what I came across in my travels. You go to Colorado, and the Rockies are this big,” he said, holding his left hand six inches off the table, “and then you see McKinley in Alaska, and it’s this big.” Matt raised his hand another six inches. “And then you see Everest!” With that, he moved his hand as high as he could reach.

Rogers smiled. He knew these mountain ranges either from training or from his personal travels before his fall. Matt could see the joy in the suspect’s eyes, pictured them again as they both took a moment to envision what they shared a passion for. As he recalled the image of another young Brit who enjoyed climbing, Andy Bartlett of Liverpool, only with an ice ax stuck in his skull, Matt’s thoughts came back to the suspect in front of him.

“So the short version is, I grew within the ranks of the American intelligence services, refused to play politics though, so I was set up and forced to retire, if that’s what you want to call it,” Matt said somberly. “But,” he said, his voice coming alive with enthusiasm, “I had some friends in high places who helped steer me into a world where I could be me and help them at the same time.” He looked directly at Rogers, who had been listening attentively.

“That’s where you come in,” he continued. “You’re a very smart cookie. You’ve proven your love of country and your dedication to it. You’ve been trained to kill bad guys. So, now I’m offering you the chance to kill again, only this time bad guys, not innocents.” Matt watched Rogers’ face and posture harden. “Plus, for the record, I’m really writing a novel, a thriller, so this whole charade is all for the book.”

Matt winked at Rogers and then dove back into the chocolate layer cake he had ordered