Parkerson showered at home, changed clothes, and drove to his office. Waved his security badge at the guard at the gate and parked the Cadillac in the lot beyond. Turned off the ignition and sat in the car and felt himself drifting away.
He was tired, Christ. He’d slept maybe seven hours since Friday. He wanted to crawl into the Caddy’s capacious backseat and just close his eyes for a while, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He had real work to do.
He forced himself out of the car, across the parking lot, and into the low building. He made himself the biggest cup of coffee he could manage, and dragged ass into his office. Jamie was already at her desk. “Morning, Mr. Parkerson,” she said. “How was your weekend?”
“Good,” he replied, forcing a smile. “Busy.”
She cocked her head. “Looks like it.”
“Yeah. Really busy.” He forced another grin at her as he entered his office. “Married life.”
Parkerson collapsed into his leather executive chair and stared at his blank computer screen and let his head swim. The coffee wasn’t helping. Maybe he needed drugs. There was so much to do.
There was work, first of all. As in high-paying, taxable, government-sanctioned work. He’d meant to take the files home that weekend, work on them in front of the television. He hadn’t intended to drive down to Miami to witness a murder. To rescue the asset. To kidnap an army veteran from Atlanta, Georgia. He’d put in a long weekend, and he’d fallen behind. He would have to bust ass to catch up.
Then there was the program itself. Wendell Gray would need training, and Lind needed a new identity. Parkerson sat back in his chair and sighed. Wondered if he could afford to take a vacation somewhere when the new asset was ready. A beach, maybe. A resort, somewhere out of the country, but clean. Somewhere he could sleep, and not worry for a change.
Parkerson leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. Closed his eyes and pictured a king-size bed and room service. The sound of the ocean. Felt himself drifting away. Then Jamie rapped on the door. “You have that nine-thirty,” she said. “With the board. You okay?”
Parkerson sat up. “Just reviewing my notes.”
“Oka-ay.” Jamie stared in at him. “You really did have a weekend, huh?”
“Burst a pipe in my basement. Really screwed up my Sunday.”
Jamie clucked. “Ouch. Anyway, the board’s ready when you are.”
Parkerson took a long drink of coffee. Turned on his computer and waited for it to load. Felt the buzzing in his head ramp up a notch, and wondered how he was going to make it through the week.
Then he thought of Wendell Gray in the lake house. Imagined the money his new asset would bring in someday soon, when the training regimen was complete. Enough money for a big yacht like the Kyla Dawn, maybe, or, better yet, his own private lake. An island in the middle, cool and calm. No traffic jams. No Jet Skis. No teeming masses to spoil his mood. The thought energized him, and he stood, grinning at the image, and strode from the room to meet the board.