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

HEADED TO ZERMATT? JEALOUS. GLAD YOU GOT OUT OK

It was from Dale. She knew where he was, at least where his passport was, every time he crossed an international border that scanned the biometrics from it. She could also trace his moves more closely through the tracking on his phone. He texted her back.

LOVE IT THERE, LOTS OF GREAT MEMORIES.

As a couple, they had traveled to the Swiss Alps in summer at least twice, discovering it together, but this was the first time he would be there without her.

The second text came from Coleman.

SAW THEY SCREWED WITH YOU TO THE VERY END.

CALL ME WHEN YOU GET BACK TO DC. BE SAFE.

His response to her was simple and indicative of the way of the world. He texted her back the symbol for a loving heart.

On the drive to Tasch, he listened to two episodes of a popular American comedian’s podcast, and he managed to laugh a few times, the first he had been able to do in weeks. Then he remembered the comedian, despite his popularity, had demons he couldn’t rid himself of and had tried to kill himself a few years earlier.

Matt’s mind went to young Ray Wilkerson, the look of despair and disappointment in his eyes that morning before it all went bad. He turned off the podcast and settled in to enjoy the scenery, but it wasn’t long before his mind took him on a journey that he relived every year.

He’d grown up traveling the world, and now he had the pleasure of doing it for a living. He didn’t have to work; his family money would see to that. But his sense that he had been born into privilege and felt he owed something back to the world motivated him. The fact that he helped his country, taking out bad guys or arranging for someone else to do it, was very rewarding. Punching a particularly nasty character in the face always made him feel good. It was when he saw an innocent, like Ray, become collateral damage that he dreamed of changing professions.

Whenever those feelings did come over him, though, Dale or his aunt, the two women who knew him most intimately, always seemed to pull him out of the funk with an intriguing and rewarding assignment. As Matt looked at himself in the car’s rearview mirror, he uttered the same sentence he had spoken many times before. Time to go bag some bad guys. After his upcoming recharge, he would want to get back to work. He’d need to; perhaps something more satisfying, like putting someone behind bars. He would need an assignment.

Before long, the tip of the Matterhorn, rising to nearly 15,000 feet at its peak, became a beautiful distraction. After parking the BMW at the train-station garage, he grabbed his bags and rode the transport into the base of the village of Zermatt. Ten minutes later, he checked into a suite in the same hotel he had once shared with Dale. The suites at The Grand Hotel Zermatterhof and their familiar views of the Matterhorn and the clocktower of the Saint Mauritis church were spectacular. He was in heaven and would have time to appreciate it all over the next few days, but now he was famished and went directly to the restaurant.

“Would you like water with your meal?” the server asked. “It will help keep you hydrated.”

Matt smiled. “There’s plenty of water in the beer. Just a burger and fries, side of mayo, and a very tall beer is all I need.” Matt checked his watch. It was now three o’clock local time, six hours earlier in Montreal. Wonder what she’s up to, he thought, smiling at the two girls sitting across from him at the bar. He texted Eve.

HOW WAS PHILLY? EVER BEEN TO ZERMATT?

The food and drink went down well, and the girls came over to speak with him before they returned to their shopping. He obliged them with a selfie and asked where they were staying.

“Upstairs,” the taller of the two Germans replied. He smiled.

“Me, too. Maybe I’ll see you both down here for dinner?” They laughed and smiled. As the women left the restaurant, the shorter girl turned and smiled again. Perhaps he’d have them for dinner, he thought to himself, but then his phone vibrated a response and took his mind back to the girl he was so curious about.

SAW YOUR LIBERTY BELL. LOVE MOUNTAINS.

NOT CH YET.

IS THAT AN INVITATION? He smiled.

Smart girl. Truly an international one, at that, he thought. Not many would respond to a text about Switzerland using the international code for the country.

NOT THIS TIME AROUND. HEADED BACK TO STATES SOON.

CALL YOU THEN. MC.

Eve responded with the same red heart he had recently sent to his aunt. With his belly full and tonight’s entertainment lined up, it was time to walk off the food and the small bit of stress that still lingered. A quick walk up through the village toward the Matterhorn and then a three-mile hike, an easy one that required little effort for him, returned him to town. He spent the next hour flipping the television remote between CNN International and the BBC News before showering and heading out in search of the Germans.

Two days later, after countless beers, nine miles of hiking on harder trails, more beer, and a few hours of in-room entertainment with his new friends, it was time to pack up and head to Zurich for the nine-hour ride back to Washington.

Matt didn’t flaunt the fact that he had money, lots of money. All he had ever professed to his love interests, and his closest friends – of which there were only two – was that he loved nice cars, upscale hotels, and flying with a lot of legroom. He did keep a very fast black Mercedes AMG sedan in the garage under his condo building near the Potomac. But the old, gray 4WD pickup he drove the majority