Parkerson wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. Right now, though, sleep wasn’t an option.
He endured the board meeting. Slogged through the rest of the day. Waited for Jamie to leave, and then set to work establishing new identities for the assets. For Lind and Gray both.
There would have to be changes in procedure. The Liberty trick was over. That loophole was closed. Even if the rental company didn’t realize what had happened, it was too risky to assume the FBI wasn’t watching. Parkerson would have to establish a new protocol for ground transportation. He would need a new credit card, too. Another pain in the ass. He’d hoped to use the Triple A backdrop for more than just a handful of scores.
Hell, he’d have to review every aspect of the jobs. The FBI would be looking. They no doubt had a handle on the Killswitch MO. They’d be looking for patterns and waiting for recurrences.
Parkerson reopened the Killswitch database and typed messages to the two clients he’d already screened, informing them of the need for advanced security measures. Reassuring them their jobs would still be completed as scheduled. Asking them to kindly change their database passwords, for good measure.
Satisfied, he logged out of the database and left the office. Drove out of the complex and headed north on the interstate for a half hour and pulled off near the lake. There was a McDonald’s near the off-ramp; he picked up a bag of hamburgers and a couple of Cokes at the drive-through and brought them with him to the lake house.
Wendell Gray had torn his room apart. He’d hurled the bed at the door. Clawed at the walls. Upturned his waste bucket. The room stank like shit. Parkerson looked in at him. Set his jaw. “This place is a mess,” he said. “Clean it.”
Gray stared at him. Wide, terrified eyes. Quick, shallow breaths. He sat on the floor, arms hugging his knees. His whole body shook. “Clean it,” Parkerson told him. Then he closed the door again.
He turned on the projections and waited ten minutes. The asset hadn’t moved when he opened the door. Parkerson sighed and left him again. Went into the locker where he stored the guns and ammunition and came back with a sap. The asset still hadn’t moved.
Parkerson hit him. Hit him hard. The asset gasped and fell back. “Clean it,” Parkerson told him. “Clean this damn room or you won’t eat, understand?” He walked to the door. “Clean it,” he said, “or the visions come back.”
This time, the asset listened. When Parkerson opened the door again, ten minutes later, the bed was remade and moved back to its corner. The floor was scrubbed clean. The bucket was upright.
The room still smelled like shit.
Parkerson smiled at the asset. “Good work,” he said. “Great job. You had another nightmare. It’s okay.”
The asset sat huddled at the edge of the bed. He was still shaking. He favored his right shoulder, where Parkerson had hit him. Parkerson sat down beside him with the McDonald’s bag. “You’re okay,” he said. “Everything’s fine. You just had a nightmare. I’m here now.”
The asset stared at the floor, his breathing slowly calming. He didn’t say anything. Parkerson brought out a burger. Lifted a Coke. “I brought food. Are you hungry?”
The asset nodded. “Yeah.”
“Eat up,” Parkerson told him. “Eat your burger before it gets cold.”
The asset looked up from the floor. Stared at the bag of food. Then he reached in and took out a burger in wax paper. Parkerson watched the kid eat. Watched his shoulders straighten, his spirits start to lift. There was life in his eyes again. A shame. It wasn’t going to last.
Parkerson stood and walked to the doorway. “Good work,” he said. “Great job. Great first day.”
The asset looked at him. Chewed his burger.
“Tomorrow, try not to spill your waste bucket. This place reeks.”
The asset didn’t say anything. Parkerson looked back at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “Be good.” Then he closed the door again and locked it. Turned on the nightmares and walked out of the house.