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Donald Parks opened his eyes slowly to blurred fluorescent lights. His head ached, as did his ribs and right leg. His mouth was dry and pasty. He was hooked to an I.V. Other beeping machines were at the head of his bed. A television could be heard from the other side of the room.
He recognized that he must be inside a hospital room, but he wasn’t certain why. His knuckles were bruised and swollen. Now that he was awake, pain radiated throughout his body.
Parks closed his eyes and tried to remember. It hurt to think. A redheaded nurse came into his room to check his I.V. She was short, plump, and wore ‘Hello Kitty’ scrubs. Her nametag identified her as Sara. Her overly cheerful persona made his head hurt even worse.
“Why am I here?” he asked weakly. “I guess, more importantly, how did I get here?
“Oh, you’re finally awake. You’ve been here for a couple of days. To be honest, I was getting quite worried about you. The doctors were, too,” She beamed a smile and grabbed his chart at the end of the bed. “You’re listed as John Doe. The note says that you had no identification on you when you arrived in the ambulance. Do you know your name?”
He nodded and winced from the pain of doing so. “Donald Parks.”
Sara placed his chart at the foot of his bed. “Let me go get a doctor, so he can talk to you.”
“Sure, sweetie. Could I get a cup of ice or something to drink?” He placed his hand over his throat.
“Certainly. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
About five minutes later a man walked into the room. The tall thin man wore a nice suit and a hat that hid his burr cut. He wasn’t a doctor, and Parks didn’t recall ever seeing this man before. He handed Parks a cup of ice water.
“The nurse said that you’re Mr. Donald Parks, is that correct?” he asked.
Parks sipped the water. The cold increased the radiating pain throbbing inside of his head, but it did soothe his throat. “Yes. Who are you?”
“Sid Davis. NSA.” He took his badge from his suit pocket and showed Parks.
“NSA?”
Sid nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“You’re in pretty bad shape, Mr. Parks. How did you end up in this condition?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
“You don’t remember?”
“No.”
Sid chewed his lower lip for a moment. “That’s a shame.”
“I’m not happy about it either.”
“I imagine not. I’d hate to arrest a man when he can’t give an alibi, but it’s happened before.”
“Arrest? For what?”
Sid sighed. “Well, sir, we found you in a dark alley with two dead Russians and two dead Chinese men. You were the only one alive.”
“You think I’m capable of killing four men? Me?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“I remember nothing.”
“For all I know, there might have been a dozen or more men in that alley with you. But all the gathered evidence points directly at you.”
“Me? In my condition?” Parks shook his head. “No. I took quite a beating.”
Sid held up a computer notebook and flipped through pages on the screen with an index finger. “Appears so, but those four men died from gunshot wounds. The gun we found in the alley has your fingerprints on it. Ballistics matches the bullets to the gun. Oddly, the gun’s serial numbers were filed off, so that’s why we couldn’t immediately identify you. You were wearing a holster, too. You also have gun residue on your hand, forearm, and the clothes you were wearing.”
Parks frowned. His mind searched, but no memory of that alley came forward to shed any light on the growing mystery.
“Can I ask you something, Mr. Parks?”
“Sure.”
“Other than what happened with the shooting and the assault on you, do you remember everything else?”
“I suppose. Like what exactly?”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m with the CIA.”
“In your spare time, you’re not a hit man, by chance?”
Parks’ mouth gaped. “What?”
“A hit man. You know, gun for hire. An assassin.”
“No. I’m like you but I work for the CIA.”
Sid’s cellphone beeped. “One second, sir.”
Parks took another sip of water and then set the Styrofoam cup on the table beside the bed.
Sid turned away, and he spoke softly in the phone. After a few minutes, he turned back toward Parks and put the phone away. “I’ll ask you again. What kind of sideline jobs do you do?”
“I told you. I’m with the CIA. Occasionally, I’ll work as a private investigator, but never on any federal level cases.”
Sid shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. “You see, Mr. Parks. I’d like to believe you, especially due to the nature of your injuries and since we’re both agents. You had the shit beat out of you. I’d like to believe you shot them in self-defense, but I’m . . . I’m leaning more to the facts that you were hired to kill them. After all, that gun wasn’t agency issued. Numbers were removed.”
“What? Where did you come up with such nonsense?” Parks grabbed the handrails at the sides of the bed and pulled himself into a seated position. His head throbbed from rising. He was certain he had a concussion. What else could hurt that badly?
“Careful now, Mr. Parks. You look to be in a lot of pain.” Sid took out a pen and small notepad from his pocket.
“Yeah! Of course I am. How the hell do you come to the conclusion that I’m a hit man?”
“Well, after the nurse told me your name, I called and had my department run a background check on you. Everyone’s information is only a few keystrokes away, thanks to the Patriot Act.” He grinned. “Anyway . . . Your recent bank deposits are the most damning evidence against you.”
“How?”
“You have a recent deposit of one hundred thousand dollars. The week before that, you had the same amount. Now, I can’t be certain, but I don’t see too many people being able to afford that kind of money for a private investigator. Hell, I work for the NSA, and I never see anywhere close to that kind of money.”
“Two hundred thousand dollars?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Maybe you have the wrong Donald Parks’ bank account?”
“No, sir. The photo on file definitely identifies you as the particular Parks that has that social security number with that bank account. Now, in connection with that money, sir, I have one other question.”
“What’s that?”
“What relationship do you have with a Mr. Boyd Grayson of Grayson Enterprises?”
“He hires me to investigate, to get background information on people. Why?”
“Using government computers?” Sid asked.
“I use them, but never for classified information. Just routine checks like a lot of employers do for pre-hires.”
“That’s where those deposits came from? For background checks?”
Parks frowned. “So?”
“Mr. Parks, come now. You’re delusional if you think I will believe that.”
“I really don’t care—”
“Often Grayson comes across as a very corrupt man. So much so that the CIA, FBI, and NSA all have open cases on him. You’re aware of that, aren’t you?”
“It doesn’t surprise me.”
“And yet, you’re on his payroll? Mr. Parks, Grayson is a man who’s quite capable of hiring a hit man to take out an opponent or benefactor when the relationship has soured.”
“Mr. Davis, I’m telling you the truth. He didn’t hire me to kill anyone. He’s never hired me to do anything like that.”
“That’s a hell of a lot of money. I can see where the temptation could kick in for almost anyone.”
“You checked my background. Did you bother to check my personnel evaluations with the CIA?”
Sid nodded.
“Exemplary evaluations.”
“They were, yes. But now, not so much. An illegally owned weapon and four people dead are bound to change that.”
“I didn’t kill them.”
“All the evidence shows that you did,” Sid said.
“Hell, it’s not even my gun.”
“A convenient loss of memory doesn’t help your case, either.”
Parks’ jaw tightened. “I believe I’m being framed.”
“You know what I think?”
“No. But I’m certain you’ll tell me.”
“I believe Grayson hired you to kill a couple of these people, but something went wrong. You killed these men and thought you could escape the scene unnoticed, but there was another member in one of these two groups who knocked you unconscious. Your medical report indicates that you were struck in the back of the head with a blunt object, which gave you a concussion.”
“Well, that explains my freaking headache,” Parks replied.
“You had the perfect plan to get away scot-free with two hundred thousand dollars, but someone interfered.”
“That’s a marvelous statement except that I didn’t kill them.”
“Can you prove otherwise?”
“Not at the moment.”
Sid scribbled more notes into his small pocket pad. “What exactly did Mr. Grayson hire you to do?”
“That’s confidential.”
Sid cocked a brow, holding his pen an inch above the pad. “You wish to uphold client confidentiality when you’re facing a possible lifetime prison sentence for murder?”
“It’s better than dying quickly.”
“You’re implying that Grayson would make a threat on your life?”
“That would be the mildest outcome.”
Sid grinned. “Now you’re insinuating that what I previously stated about Grayson enacting bodily harm or killing people that turn against him. Are you not?”
“I’ll admit that he’s underhanded in a lot of ways, but I’ve never worked as an assassin for him. Not once or ever. I’d be happy to take a lie detector test.”
“You know that’s not admissible.”
Parks frowned. “Why not? We give them all the time.”
“True, but in your case there are two reasons why having you take one won’t matter.”
“What are they?”
“One, your recent memory loss. Two, the CIA trains its agents the proper way to cheat the test and not get caught.”
“Then why keep asking me questions, if you don’t believe I’ll tell you the truth.”
Sid smiled. “Because I’m hoping that you will turn the tables on Grayson and help us with our ongoing investigation.”
“Look, I’m being honest with you. There’s no evidence that I could give up that will tie him or me to any murders. He’s never hired me for that reason.”
“Maybe not, Mr. Parks, but there’s still something you can do to help us.”
“What’s that?”
“You have built up trust with him. You’re the best person we have to act as an informant since he believes he has a CIA agent in his pocket.”
“That won’t get me off murder charges. From what you’ve said, there’s nothing I can do to overturn the charges since the evidence points right at me.”
“It could get your sentence reduced, provided you’re able to get what we need.”
“A reduced sentence?” Parks shook his head. “No, thanks.”
“There might not be any case against you at all, if you get us the evidence we need.”
“How’s that?”
“I have no idea why you’d be in that alley to start with. Two of the dead men belonged to the Russian Mafia. The other two were connected to a Chinese triad. Maybe you happened to get caught in the middle and were fortunate enough to survive. And that’s definitely the angle I’d play if I were you.”
Parks rubbed his eyes and thought. Making a decision would be so much easier if he were able to remember exactly what had happened in that alleyway. To the best of his knowledge, he didn’t personally know anyone associated with the Russians or the Chinese. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t investigating one side or the other or both. After a few minutes of getting nowhere with his memories, he said, “What do you want me to do?”