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

“I came back from what-the-fuck-istan all broken up. My legs will never be the same, but my heart is right, my mind is a machine, and I am loyal to the people I am sworn to protect,” Rogers stated. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect who, and what, I love.”

“So you are interested and able to fight? Do you have another war in you? You’re not wiped out?” Matt was pushing buttons.

“If you want me to go off and kill some bad guys, let’s do it, I’m ready. But I have to know who the enemy is and that rules of engagement don’t exist.”

This was what Matt was hoping to hear. The man’s suspicion seemed to have been suspended, and his passion was coming to the surface.

“Watching little burkas walk toward checkpoints and blow up uniforms and innocent women and other children messed me up, I’ll admit that. Tell me I can drop a monster without delay, and I’ll be just fine.”

“We’ve both faced ruthless enemies, bad motherfuckers in all shapes and sizes,” Matt said in a lowered voice. “The beauty of what we can do, what you can become a part of, is that you get read in on the target. If you don’t want it, they’ll give it to someone who does or who doesn’t care.”

Rogers sat back, deep in his thoughts as Matt watched the expressions on the Brit’s face change from one emotion to another. As one tear and then another streamed down Rogers’ cheeks, Matt kept watching.

“It was the most fucked up thing I’ve ever seen,” Rogers said as he looked unfocused into the area around him. “The Taliban sent that little girl straight at those people with the belief that the orders to stop were just part of the game, and that candy would be her reward if she didn’t stop.”

Matt had heard of dozens of stories about this type of suicide bomber technique employed in Iraq and Afghanistan and had been called to investigate them at least nine times while with the FBI.

“Come back to the Hard Rock, Billy,” Matt said, leaning forward, encouraging the man to push what had happened in the past back there. “Your military days and fighting in war zones are long over. Let me get you to focus on the assholes that are running around here and in Europe.”

“Okay,” Rogers said, his tone softening. “I can kill. I’ve done it,” he paused, “when I was in uniform that is. But I need to know four things before I can go any further.”

Matt leaned in closer and waved off the server, who was coming to clear their plates.

“First, who decides who gets taken out? Second, who decides how? Third, how much does it pay?”

Matt sat back in his chair and smiled. “I’ll answer all of those, but I need to tell you this – I’ve been face to face with all sorts of people, from pickpockets to presidents, and I’m amazed that I haven’t seen you demonstrate even one of the usual tells that someone who’s lying shows. You’re good, and whether you killed those women or not, you’ve got what it takes to do this and get away with it.”

“That’s because I haven’t lied to you about anything.”

Matt smiled inside but maintained the serious look their conversation warranted.

Flattery, complimenting the suspect, might be working. Charlie’s plan might actually be working. Minutes later, the table cleared and the check paid, the two men stood to leave and continue their conversation outside. Sitting as long as they had, Rogers’ legs had tightened up, and he needed a few minutes to get the circulation flowing and the muscles warmed for walking. Once outside, Rogers thanked his host for the meal.

“I don’t think you’ve been totally honest with me, though, Billy,” Matt said as he stood directly in front of the suspect, staring into his eyes. “I think you’re already working for someone, whether it’s a government or mob or private hitter. MI5 might not have figured it out yet, but those girls were all connected somehow, I know it, I can feel it, and you got away with it. You’re that good.”

Rogers laughed. “And I think you haven’t been totally honest with me either, Agent Christopher, but there is one way for us to uncover our lies and reveal our truths.”

Matt didn’t move. His eyes locked with the suspect’s. “There were four things you said that you needed to know,” Matt said. “Let me guess. Number four is going to be a real humdinger?”

“I’d never want to disappoint any friend of Charlie Chaste,” said Rogers. “Before we go any further, you’re going to have to kill someone for me!”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Matt sat quietly against the headboard of the massive bed at his hotel. Room service had delivered everything he needed to get his day started and hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign at his request on the outside knob when they left. He wanted to think through every move and every possible action and reaction both he and his prey might incorporate into the chess game they were engaged in. His cell vibrated, the caller ID read Clydesdale – it was Claire Dale.

“Yes, should have this wrapped up within a few days,” Matt assured her. “There’s much more to this guy than Charlie has let on. The uncle, Thomas Sinclair, from what I can find, is totally connected to just about everyone and everything over here.” The pause on the other end of the call surprised him, and that set off an internal alarm.

“You still there, Claire?” Matt asked. “Don’t tell me you know this guy Sinclair.” No response. “Shit!” he said very slowly, letting the air out of his lungs as his brain went into overdrive.

“You’re right, Matt, about his connections,” Dale responded finally. “You know the deal better than any of us. While presidents and prime ministers come and go