The Export J.K. Kelly (best way to read e books .TXT) 📖

She’s not going anywhere, I guess, he thought. “I’ll be there.”

After a quick shower, at long last a full shave, and fresh black t-shirt, jeans, and sport coat, he pulled on the Merrill hiking shoes he so desperately wanted to put on a hillside rather than in a cab. When his aunt suggested he was the man for the job, Matt knew it had to be important. After all, Helene Coleman, the former senator from the great state of Wyoming, and now the Director of the National Intelligence Service – a cabinet level position, was a very serious, very busy woman. Matt was devoted to her.

The ride took much longer than he had expected. The Nationals baseball game had just ended, and Matt’s condo was within a few blocks of the park. People were heading to the subways and the waterfront attractions while Matt’s yellow Toyota van taxi crawled with the traffic.

At the J. Edgar Hoover Building, the FBI’s headquarters on Pennsylvania Avenue not far from the White House, Matt handed the driver $30 and stepped out into the late afternoon summer heat of Washington, D.C. He passed under the American flags waving above the entrance, stepped through the first security checkpoint and then the second. Matt affixed his identification card to the lanyard an FBI special agent tossed to him, and he headed for the elevator bank and Dale’s office.

Not coming as any surprise, he was greeted as he exited the elevator and escorted to a different office, that of Linda Capri, special counsel to the director. Born and raised in the Italian section of Chicago, Capri was smart, very smart, with degrees from Northwestern and Harvard, and she was on a fast track at the FBI. Waiting inside to greet him were two men he didn’t recognize.

“Safe trip, I hope,” Capri offered as a greeting, and then she immediately got down to the introductions and the matter at hand.

“Mr. Leclerc and Mr. Mercier are from the Canadian embassy.”

“Ay!” Matt said with a grin and then sat down at the conference table, the Canadians across from him, and Capri took her seat at the head of the table.

“I warned you about him,” she said apologetically to the visitors. “Now, let’s get to it.”

The Canadians began the briefing by thanking the Americans for their cooperation. Leclerc continued, directing his attention squarely at Matt.

“As you may know, we are hosting a North American Environmental Summit in a few days in Quebec City,” he said. “Do you know the city?”

Matt delayed his response while one of Capri’s aides poured coffee and placed small plates of cookies in front of each of her guests.

“Yes, the Chateau, great crepes, great beer, the ferry that crosses the St. Lawrence,” Matt responded. “Nice place, winter or summer.”

“Merci beaucoup,” said Leclerc, at Matt’s compliment. “So here is the problem,” he continued. “There is an assistant undersecretary from your government, John Tilton, who has attended previous conferences in Banff near Alberta. He has caused some behind-the-scenes problems in the past. Since he has gotten away with it before, we think his behavior might be even worse in Quebec.”

Matt looked at Capri and gestured with his hands as if to ask, “What the hell’s this got to do with me?” She smiled and looked to their guest to continue.

“Tilton has no real interest in the environment but loves attending conferences where the buffets are endless, the alcohol flows freely, and he can prey on the young staffers. Because of his relationship with the White House, he uses it as a lure and then behaves as if he’s untouchable.”

Matt grew frustrated and showed it without hesitation. “I have many areas of expertise listed on my CV,” Matt said. “But bouncer, or fixer for that matter, isn’t one of them. What the heck do you think I can do to corral this asshole?”

The Canadians seemed surprised by Matt’s frankness and by his language. Both looked to Capri for input.

“The undersecretary is the cousin of the first lady and you, of all people, Matt, understand the two-edged sword that nepotism and this sort of behavior can bring,” she said in a tone that was softly explanatory.

“I get it,” Matt said with a smile and then turned his attention back to the Canadians. “I’m connected and you probably got that by now, but the difference is, I use my connections to lock up bad guys. This prick is using his for, well, his prick.” Matt watched as Capri tried to hold in a laugh. He called things as he saw them.

“Like I said, what do you want me to do?”

“I… we want you to go to Quebec,” Capri said. “Be present, stay close to the man. If anything does get out of hand and you can intervene, do it. You will be the first person these gentlemen go to hopefully before the media or any lawyers get hold of any of his antics. We need discretion. If the White House isn’t going to keep this guy in check, then we’ll use assets like you to save our country,” she paused to look at their guests, “and them, the embarrassement.”

Matt got up and walked to the credenza. He poured himself a glass of water, then gestured to Capri and her guests to see if they wanted some as well. Once he’d gulped down the drink, he placed the glass back on the serving tray and returned to his seat.

“This would be so much more fun if you had the damn conference in Vegas, or even Toronto, for that matter. The Russian strippers are fresh off the jet in Toronto!” Mercier laughed out loud and then promptly stopped when Leclerc glared at him with a shocked expression.

“Just kidding, guys,” Matt laughed. “But I am surprised you are having this event in Quebec during tourist season. The streets will be packed. Security will be a nightmare.” He looked at Capri. “It would be better if you slid me onto his team for the