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

Already unloading at the lone urinal, Melville was unaware when Matt stepped through the door and quickly threw the slide latch on it. Two steps across the room and he’d slammed Melville’s big head into the tile wall. To Matt’s surprise, the man wasn’t fazed and simply turned to see who had assaulted him.

Damn, Matt thought, this might take a little longer than I’d thought.

Luckily for Matt, the knife he’d brought to the party was in easy reach. Before Melville could throw a punch, Matt had the pointy end of the weapon shoved against the man’s throat between his Adam’s apple and his chin. That had an immediate effect. Melville didn’t move another inch.

“Move very slowly,” Matt ordered, “and put your needle dick back in your pants, you bastard.” Following orders, Melville did just that.

“You remember me?” Matt asked, staring at the animal, wanting ever so much to just shove the knife hard through to the brain stem.

Melville was drunk. It took time for him to think, but then he must have realized who was standing in front of him. The American accent helped. Rather than cower or beg for mercy, he challenged Matt. “Yeah, I know you,” he answered in a heavy English accent. “You’re the tea bag we dropped in the water. Bit of a lucky bastard, aren’t you? If the cops hadn’t started yelling and run us off, you’d have been in a body bag that night for sure.”

Matt was relishing what he intended to tell this guy next. “Well, your buddy Bruce is now in one over at MI5. My bet is that you’ll join him pretty soon. But maybe you’d fit better into a few buckets, in bits and pieces?” Matt pushed the knife a little further, making sure his prey knew not to think about making a move. Suddenly a knock at the door interrupted their discussion. Matt pushed the knife a bit further, this time making a slight cut into the skin.

“My mate’s a bit sick,” he shouted in a fake English accent, “give us a minute.” Then he turned his full focus back to Melville. With fire in his eyes, Matt whispered, “This one’s for Lois!”

And he shoved the knife hard and fast as far as it would go.

As quickly as Melville had dropped straight to the floor, Matt withdrew the knife. He stepped to the sink, rinsed it off, and slid it back into its case inside his belt. Melville was heavy, and his dead weight made it hard for Matt to slide him into the lone bathroom stall. A fitting place for this bastard to die.

But once that was done, he closed the stall door and unlocked the main one. Stepping out, he encountered three men who were clearly unhappy with having had to hold their water for so long.

“All yours!” he said, keeping his head down and quickly left through the propped-open emergency exit door he had used earlier. Within 60 seconds, he was back in his car and headed away from the bar.

“Heathrow,” he told the driver and felt happy just saying it.

Back at the hotel, he thanked the driver and waved as the car drove away. Wonder how long it will be before they find out the plates on that were switched in the parking garage this morning. Matt laughed to himself. It was time for a beer.

He headed to the bar, thinking about his friend Charlie, and suddenly realized there was more unfinished business he had to attend to. He opted to take a seat in one of the quiet booths in the restaurant rather than sit at the bar. There was nothing to celebrate, other than the fact that he had taken out two very bad guys, soon would be safely out of London, and headed home. He’d seen enough of the UK in recent weeks, and there was still something very important to take care of back in Jackson Hole.

He texted Dale:

HOTEL AOK. ONE STOP TO MAKE IN AM THEN DC TOMORROW

He waited for a response, but without one, he focused on the two beers he had ordered. “I have two hands,” he’d told the server with a smile. He thought about the day, his friend, and all that had happened in such a short period of time. Is this really what I want to do with the rest of my life?

He had more money than he could spend. He could travel the world, hike some hills, climb some mountains, and enjoy all that life had to offer.

Why not do that full time and forget about takng risks?

It was the same conversation he’d had with Dale a long time ago. He couldn’t give the job up, though. They both knew it. The adrenaline was one thing, but his chosen profession, payback or punishment for bullies and bad guys, gave him the satisfaction, the reward that made the risks well worth taking.

His friend Charlie had been made from the same mold. He’d miss his friend. He had so few of them. He formulated a plan for tomorrow, ordered a cheeseburger, medium-well, fries, and a side of mayonnaise, and then put down the phone and focused on his beer. The next morning, he would visit Shirley and Lois to say a very difficult goodbye.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Standing on the sprawling porch of his new home not far from the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, Matt’s plans were falling into place. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he told Dale. “I’ll text you the address. Just come after your meeting. Give it a few days, and then I’ll come up, and you can show me your new office at NSA. We have a lot to talk about.”

Matt filled the rest of his day working the legal pad checklist he’d made while flying home from London. Despite the occasional interruption, the day went quickly, and he couldn’t wait to see how his next appointment would play out.

Dale