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

Matt passed through the metal detectors, collected the press credential Leclerc had left in his name, and then checked into a small but comfortable hotel room that offered the basics any experienced traveler would need. His window view was disappointing as it overlooked the roof of an adjacent wing, but the room had been upgraded to include a large flat-screen television. The bathroom had been left in a more original state, a huge bathtub with legs and six stainless steel knobs that at first blush Matt had no idea how he’d operate. But what really mattered was his proximity to Tilton’s room and the fire escape.

He went down to the bar lounge to meet Mercier and obtain the cellphone that had been promised. The room had more mahogany than Matt had ever seen in one place and it jutted out over the boardwalk below with tall, wide windows that offered panoramic views of the sites. The two sat quietly at a window table that overlooked the boardwalk and the river below it. A Norwegian Cruise Liner had just departed, now headed southwest to Montreal before it would turn back and head north into Canada’s maritime provinces and perhaps a night view of the somewhat elusive aurora borealis.

“You don’t talk much, do you, Mercier?” Matt joked, having exchanged no more than four or five words as they sat there.

“Everything you need and need to know is in that information packet, Mr. Christopher. I’m a bit of a shadow man. I just get things done without much fanfare.”

“I can respect that. No worries, my friend.”

“It is a shame we have to bother with this buffoon of yours,” Mercier protested.

“He’s not mine. I didn’t appoint the piece of shit,” Matt countered. “I’ll do everything I can to protect your people, this great building, and your wonderful city. I promise,” Matt said.

Without another word, Mercier excused himself, shook Matt’s hand, and left the room. With nothing of a formal agenda until an 8 a.m. opening breakfast in one of the hotel’s banquet rooms, Matt decided to get close to Tilton’s room to observe the layout and his security team. Meanwhile, he had hours to kill, and the bar was calling to him. He moved from the table to a tall barstool, placed the conference agenda packet on the bar, and ordered a Labatt Blue. Spinning the stool slowly, he let it move a full 360 degrees so he could take in the view through the tall windows and scope who was drinking this early. His ride came to an abrupt end.

“What the fuck, dude!” a woman protested as Matt and she collided in mid-spin, her conference packet spilling out onto the lounge floor.

He immediately hopped off the stool and went down on one knee to help recover her papers. The two banged heads, and she cursed him a second time.

“Damn it!” she said in a much louder voice, gaining the attention of everyone in the bar, including a plainclothes policeman who was standing watch at the entryway.

Matt laughed, pulled his hands back from helping her, stood up quickly, and moved back onto his stool. He watched as the woman collected her belongings and then smiled when she stood and their eyes met. “I’m so sorry,” he said, trying to hold back a laugh.

“What, you think this is funny?” she said, taking her voice down a notch when she noticed the plainclothes policeman with the earpiece watching them.

“No, no, not funny at all,” Matt assured her, gesturing for her to take a seat on the stool next to him. “I’m so sorry, I’m just a bit clumsy.”

The woman tossed her packet onto the bar and then ran her fingers through her long blonde hair, doing her best to recover from the collisions. She looked to the mirror behind the bar that was partially obscured by the dozens of liquor bottles stacked in front of it and then sat down.

“Okay, I’m over it,” she said with a laugh of her own.

“Quebec?” Matt asked her, gesturing for the bartender to come to them.

“No, Montreal,” she replied. “Clumsy or not, you’re going to have to buy me a shot of something so I can settle down.”

“Two Jägers and two vodkas,” he told the bartender. She smiled. “Come on, nobody’s ever needed a drink after meeting me before.”

“No, it’s not you,” she said, her French Canadian accent flowing through lips he couldn’t keep his eyes off.

“Dude,” she said, gesturing with her two fingers that first pointed to her lips and then moved upward to her eyes. Then, without flinching, she took the first and then the second shot of Jägermeister and downed them both.

“Oh, we’re going to get along just fine, young lady,” Matt said, gesturing to the bartender for two more. “Between that and your potty mouth, I think I’m in love.” She laughed. As the two additional shots were delivered, she pushed the vodkas away and slid the two Jägers so they were in front of her newfound friend.

“Drink up, bitch,” she said, her smile as wide as her beautiful brown eyes. Once Matt knocked back the first and then the second, they were even.

“What next?” he asked.

“You need to feed me,” she replied. Extending her hand, she smiled again. “By the way, I’m Eve.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

He had a job to do, scoping the layout before more alcohol could cause him to miss something or raise suspicion with any of the security teams on duty that night in the hotel.

“Well, someone’s going to have to feed me,” she had said, “so if I’m still here when you’re done playing with your laptop, we’ll see what the night holds.”

He excused himself, went to his room to drop off the packet, and then jumped back in an elevator. It was an old-world style with a non-functioning lever that elevator operators used to engage to raise or lower the lift back in earlier times. At the eleventh floor, he stumbled into the hallway and