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

a dock, he heard a man’s voice with a strong British accent whisper into his right ear. “The friends of Thomas Sinclair send their regards.” Then he was dumped headfirst again into the water, and this time they let go.

He began to sink, headfirst, deeper into the river water. He panicked. This same maneuver was a test; one of many underwater challenges that dozens of candidates for the elite Navy SEALs had failed. Matt, too, had failed when his turn came. It was an ordeal he believed he would never be able to survive. Back then, the commander had ordered him pulled out. No one was going to save him now.

As he felt the water cover his entire body, he tried to maintain his calm, arching his body to bring his head up toward the surface. But it was impossible to know where it was. The darkness, the cold, the restraints all made him fear this was it. He’d struggle, eventually panic, the water filling his lungs until he convulsed and died. What a horrible way to go, he had often thought when he heard of people drowning. Now he was going to be one of them.

He felt himself close to passing out as the last bit of oxygen left his lungs, and then he saw the light.

When he woke up, he was lying on the wooden deck, alongside his Bella, hands and feet now free. The hood and gag the attackers had used were lying a few feet away. As his head cleared, he began to recognize sounds. Someone was speaking.

“Yes, we performed CPR on the victim, he’s vomited quite a bit, but he’s still going to need a ride to the ER to get checked out,” the voice said, as he filled his lungs over and over with blessed air.

“Buddy, you okay?” a second voice said.

Are they asking me that? he thought. Matt’s eyes cleared and fixed on the beautiful, white full moon overhead. Once he realized he hadn’t drowned and the voices were those of D.C. policemen, he sat up quickly, too quickly, became lightheaded, and lay back on the dock.

“Take it easy, buddy. We’ll have you to a hospital real soon.” He smiled at the two uniformed men who were attending to him and noticed red strobe lights bouncing off the side of his boat.

A marine police boat and the ambulance arrived on the scene within minutes of the radio call the cops had broadcast. The two men explained to Matt that they had observed something strange while on foot patrol. The restaurants and dockside bars had already closed, and they had been walking a final sweep of the area when the moonlight lit up something strange.

At a distance, it had looked as though two men, dressed in black, were lowering something into the Potomac. As the police moved in closer to check it out, they noticed whatever it was seemed to be squirming, as if something alive was inside. They immediately sent out a call for backup and shouted, “STOP!” They rushed down the dock, saw the two men release what was clearly a body at closer range, before running from the scene. One cop pursued them while the other jumped into the water and dragged him toward the deck, where onlookers helped him out of the water. Although the cop in pursuit had lost the two attackers, they hoped CCTV cameras in the area would help catch the perpetrators.

“What’s your name?” the cop closest to him asked. “Is there someone you want us to call?”

“Sinclair,” Matt said with surprise.

He was remembering what the bad guy had whispered before dropping him in the drink. His first thought was to call Dale; she lived nearby and could be there in a second. But then it occurred to him that she might have been targeted also, or perhaps the two were on their way to her now.

Despite their insistence that he sit, Matt pushed the EMTs away and stood up, pulling the blood pressure cuff from his arm. His head was clear now; his blood was full of fresh, delicious oxygen. He’d been to the brink of death and now needed to make sure Dale was safe.

“Yes,” he said, looking at one of the cops. “We need to get over to the condos at the wharf. It’s 10 minutes from here, five if you let me drive.”

“What’s there?” they asked.

“An FBI higher-up who might be their next target if they haven’t already been there.”

“You FBI?”

“Yes, and then some,” Matt replied. “We’re wasting time, let’s go.”

They declined Matt’s offer to drive them to where Dale lived and put out a radio call for two men, dressed in black, probably wet, and in or near the address Matt had given them.

Matt’s phone was dead, and so was his contact list. He couldn’t call her, and her number wasn’t publicly listed. All he could do was hold on and hope they got there to find her safe. When they ran past the security desk and took the elevator to her floor, they found two uniformed cops talking to Dale. When she saw Matt, soaking wet and in the company of two more cops, she waved them all inside her home.

The policeman who had jumped in to save Matt laid it out for her. The two men, Matt almost drowning, the bad guys running away, Matt’s concern that she might be next. She listened to every word, and when Matt nodded that the facts as stated were true, she grabbed him and hugged him close while tears streamed down her face.

Finally, she caught herself and stepped away. “Damn you, Matt! Look what you made me do. My carpet’s all wet now.” She gave him a playful punch in the shoulder, then wiped at her eyes.

“Are you able to tell us anything more about what’s happened?” one of the cops asked.

Matt gave Dale a look, their look, that let her know something bad was afoot but she shouldn’t discuss it with anyone