Read Online The Last Kind Word by David Housewright - Free Book Online

had just served our drinks when Bullert appeared, behaving as if meeting us like that had been as lucky as picking the Gopher 5. All of my internal alarm systems flared at once. It wasn’t that I had any fear of Bullert, whom I hadn’t seen since that frigid night in Lakeville. It was that he was wearing a suit, a tie, and black wingtips. Clearly he hadn’t come to Columbia for a good walk spoiled, as Twain might have put it.
    After taking a seat, Bullert said, “McKenzie, I was just thinking about you.”
    â€œIs that right?”
    â€œHow’s the shoulder?”
    I flexed it to show that my broken collarbone had healed nicely. “Good as new,” I said.
    â€œThe concussion—no lingering symptoms, I hope.”
    â€œNothing for a couple of months now, thanks for asking,” I said. “Why are you asking?”
    â€œI heard you got banged up a while back. Something about a museum heist.” He was staring at Harry now, looking for assistance. The FBI agent’s expression suggested that he was uncomfortable about giving it, although it occurred to me that Bullert would not have known I was going to be at the golf course if Harry hadn’t told him. I took a sip of my beverage and waited for the shoe to drop. It didn’t take long.
    â€œBusy these days?” Bullert asked.
    â€œI manage to keep occupied,” I said.
    â€œDoing favors for friends, I hear.”
    â€œMcKenzie’s a born kibitzer,” Harry said.
    Bullert pointed at my drink. “Buy you another?”
    I rested the palm of my hand on top of the glass. “No, I’m good.”
    Bullert nodded.
    Harry nodded.
    I nodded, too, but then I hate to be left out.
    â€œWhat?” I asked. “What do you want, Chad?”
    â€œHow come you never gave me a nickname like Harry?”
    â€œI did. I called you Alec because you look like the actor Alec Baldwin, but I haven’t seen you for five years so it didn’t stick.”
    Bullert turned to Harry. “Do I look like Alec Baldwin?”
    â€œNo,” Harry said.
    â€œWhat do you guys want?” I asked.
    Harry looked away as if he were too embarrassed to answer. Bullert wasn’t so self-conscious. “I need a favor,” he said.
    â€œWhat kind of favor?”
    â€œWill you help?”
    â€œWhat kind of favor?”
    â€œIt’s for your country.”
    Uh-oh, my inner voice said. For Bullert to play that card so early in the conversation …
    â€œA wise man once said that patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel,” I told him.
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œYou wouldn’t be shamelessly appealing to my love of country unless something went splat and now you need assistance cleaning up the mess. Am I right?”
    Bullert gave Harry a sideways glance. Again he seemed to want help, and again Harry looked like he wished he were somewhere else.
    â€œHave you ever heard of Operation Fast and Furious?” Bullert asked.
    â€œIs that the title of the new Vin Diesel movie?”
    â€œWe’re serious, McKenzie.”
    â€œYes, I know about Fast and Furious. It was in all the papers.”
    â€œWhat do you know?”
    â€œIt was the name of a sting gone bad. A few years ago, the ATF—you guys—and some federal prosecutors supplied gun dealers with seventeen hundred weapons, the plan being that you would track the weapons and then arrest the dealers and their customers when they illegally resold them to the Mexican drug cartels. Only you screwed up—you lost track of the guns. Now they’re popping up at crime scenes all along the border. There’s evidence that they might even have been used to kill our own guys. Congress found out, hearings were held, disgruntled ATF agents and other whistle-blowers testified, high-ranking officials lost their jobs, the administration was embarrassed—just another sunny day in our nation’s