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

“You told me I’d have full access so…”

The ambassador had nothing to say. He had given Matt clearance, and his password, to use the private Gmail account, but he had failed to realize, through all the confusion with Terry being arrested, that this would also give Matt access to all the sent and received emails as well as the file folders in the account.

Before anyone had a chance to continue, two of the servers came into the room to replenish the serving dishes and see if any drinks needed freshening. Matt was dying for a beer to wash down all the good food, but he’d stick with Diet Cola for now. It was probably going to be a long night at Spaso House.

“What did you find out?” Ray asked, his attention totally focused on Matt.

“You can take this however you wish, good or bad, but Misha is no longer pregnant, and–”

Wilkerson interrupted. “What’s the bad news, man, spit it out!”

Sarah Wilkerson wasn’t smiling. She locked eyes with her husband, as if unsure of what Matt was going to say next but wanting to watch his reaction.

“The bad news is…” Matt said, shaking his head slowly left to right, “…Misha’s no longer pregnant, but the Old Goat is keeping what she lost. He’s going to hold the fetus for ransom.”

Wilkerson shot to his feet and threw his napkin onto his plate. “What kind of sick bastard would do something like that?”

“It’s all about the DNA, Mr. Ambassador. They intend to use it to leverage you as if Misha was still in play, but the reality is, there’s no chain of custody, and there’s nobody in the free world that would believe a Russian lab that’s slandering an American diplomat.” Matt thought for a moment. “Except your enemies.”

“Bunch of amateurs, no doubt,” Wilkerson uttered.

“Or some professionals wanting you to think that’s the case,” Sarah suggested.

“There’s another possibility none of you have considered,” Matt asserted. “How do we even know she was ever pregnant in the first place, and if she was, what guarantees do we have that a Wilkerson fathered the child? If she was pregnant and lost the child, then we need the evidence. It might clear your name.”

Nobody moved for a long minute. Finally, Ray got up from the table, told his mother he was going to try to reach Misha again, and left the room. Sarah called out for the staff to come clear the table.

“What, no coffee?” Matt said in a disappointed tone. Wilkerson stormed out of the room while Sarah sat quietly and watched as the staff cleared away what was left of their meal.

“Did I just hear him utter asshole as he left?” Matt asked Sarah. She looked at him and cocked her head slightly to the left.

“Most days I’d say that was damn inappropriate, young man,” she said softly. “But today, I think your timing is impeccable.” She thanked the kitchen staff for their excellent meal and then asked for coffee and pecan pie for two to be delivered to her private study on the second floor.

“Care to join me for dessert?” she said in a teasing tone. “Then you’ve got to help me buy a dead baby.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The ambassador’s wife’s study was on the second floor and she had used the lure of endless coffee and decadent desserts to entice Matt to follow her there. It wasn’t long before all that had been replaced by glasses of Kentucky bourbon and Stella Artois beer. Matt tried to log into the secure server at the residence but his host kept pointing out the various mementos she had brought there from Texas to make her feel closer to home. A brick from the Alamo, a Dallas Cowboy player’s helmet, a framed flag of the Lone Star state mounted above the wood burning fireplace, and an assortment of antique handguns and rifles used by famous Texans in the various wars and conflicts they had fought and died in. Finally he was in and able to focus on what he had come there for.

Sarah leaned over Matt’s shoulder as he emailed the Old Goat back and forth, negotiating the terms of the surrender of the DNA and attempting to secure assurances that the matter would be put to rest as quickly as possible. The ambassador had joined them briefly two hours earlier but tired of the direction the conversation had taken. Sarah had asked Matt if he’d be interested in going to London as a private investigator on her family’s behalf to see if her cousin’s death really had been suicide.

“Their MI5 and our FBI ruled it a murder-suicide, but he loved life, his women, cars, and his money. To have shot himself like that – I just can’t accept it,” she said.

“He’s dead, he had enemies, we all do,” the ambassador retorted. Then a look from his wife sent him away without a word.

“I love that bastard,” she whispered to Matt as the ambassador had closed the door behind him, “but what is it about men that makes them have to screw everything they can?”

“It’s all about the caveman, Sarah,” he said as if preparing to tell a joke. “It’s in our DNA. You know this. Dating back as far as anyone knows, men were supposed to do two things. Procreate to keep the species going and kill for food to keep the species fed. Most of us have evolved, but there are still a few cave dwellers out there.”

“And you, Matt Christopher, what do you have back in D.C. – a cave or a condo?”

He turned and looked at her. He knew there was no way the ambassador was going to come back into the room. He was in the doghouse, now more than ever. Ray was probably still longing for his former girlfriend, staring at pictures of Misha on his laptop. Were they just having a discussion, or was she thinking about the old in-out, in-out?

“I have a