by G. K. Parks
The Long Game
An Alexis Parker Novel
G.K. Parks
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and other concepts are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, establishments, events, and locations is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author.
Copyright © 2019 G.K. Parks
A Modus Operandi imprint
All rights reserved.
Print ISBN-13: 978-1-942710-15-8
Full-length Novels in the Alexis Parker Series:
Likely Suspects
The Warhol Incident
Mimicry of Banshees
Suspicion of Murder
Racing Through Darkness
Camels and Corpses
Lack of Jurisdiction
Dying for a Fix
Intended Target
Muffled Echoes
Crisis of Conscience
Misplaced Trust
Whitewashed Lies
On Tilt
Purview of Flashbulbs
The Long Game
Prequel Alexis Parker Novellas:
Outcomes and Perspective: The Complete Prequel Series
Assignment Zero (Prequel series, #1)
Agent Prerogative (Prequel series, #2)
The Final Chapter (Prequel series, #3)
Julian Mercer Novels
Condemned
Betrayal
Subversion
Reparation
Retaliation
Liv DeMarco Novels
Dangerous Stakes
Operation Stakeout
Unforeseen Danger
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Thirty-six
Thirty-seven
Thirty-eight
Thirty-nine
Note from the Author
About the Author
One
“Shots fired.”
I didn’t need the voice in my ear to say it. The evidence of the event lay before me. A man choked and gasped, struggling to breathe. Two bullets had torn through his torso.
Warily, I glanced out the front entrance. I didn’t see the shooter. Aiming in the direction from which the bullets came, I exited the building and grabbed the dying man by the collar and dragged him behind the decorative, cement planter. Kneeling next to him, I hoped more gunfire wouldn’t follow.
“You’ll be okay,” I said. “Just hang on.” Pink foam had already started to form in the corner of his mouth. I tapped the button on my radio. “We need an ambulance. Does anyone have eyes on the shooter?”
“Negative,” a response came back.
The man made a gurgling noise, frantically clutching my hands which were doing what little they could to stop the bleeding. We both knew he wasn’t going to make it. The wild, frightened look in his eyes searched for hope and comfort.
“I’m here. It’s okay.” I didn’t even know his name.
He squeezed my hand as a final tremble coursed through him. His entire body tensed, and he emitted one last wheeze. A river of blood flowed from his mouth. His eyes dulled, and he was gone.
The radio calls continued back and forth as the security team searched for the shooter. I remained beside the dead man, listening for updates, but the team didn’t have any. The shooter was in the wind.
Blinking, I slowly pulled my hands away and stared at the blood. His blood. Errant images ran through my mind, but I shook them away and wiped my hands on the dead man’s shirt. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Sirens filled the air, quickly followed by flashing lights. A single patrol car pulled to a stop inches from me. The driver’s side door opened, and a woman took cover behind the vehicle, aiming her weapon over the roof of the car.
“Hands in the air,” the officer commanded.
I did as I was told. My gun was on the pavement next to my left knee. Predictably, the officer approached and kicked it away before she even bothered to ask who I was.
“Alexis Parker, private investigator,” I said. “CryptSpec hired me, well, Cross Security, but I work for them.”
She crouched down and felt for a pulse. Shaking her head, she pressed her radio and called it in. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? I thought you said you’re a private eye.”
“The irony isn’t lost on me.”
She picked up my gun with her thumb and pointer finger and gave it a sniff. “Did you shoot him?”
“Does it look like I shot him?”
“In that case, you better tell me what happened.”
“I wish I knew.” It was against Lucien Cross’s rules to speak to the police. Then again, it was also against my boss’s wishes to involve oneself with murder investigations. As usual, he would not be pleased. “One of CryptSpec’s programmers got canned. The CEO feared he might lash out, so Cross sent a security team to remain on standby. We were supposed to stop the situation from escalating.”
“This isn’t the programmer?” the police officer asked.
“No.”
By now, several other units had arrived, along with a few detectives I recognized. They went to work, conducting a search of the area and roping off the crime scene. A detective and three officers entered the building. I spotted two patrolmen speaking to one of the members of the security team. The rest were elsewhere, either assisting or being questioned. Any minute, a few town cars would arrive, and this party would come to an end.
“Miss Parker, do you believe the programmer is the shooter?” the officer asked. “Could this be one of his coworkers?”
I blew out a breath, desperate to recall the proper order of events. By now, I could practically feel the blood drying on my hands. “I don’t think so. I don’t recognize him. And Ian Barber, the programmer, wouldn’t have had time to do this.” I pointed. “The shots came from that direction. They were fired before I exited the building. I didn’t see who fired, so the shooter wasn’t close.” I looked down at the body. “Based on the wounds, I’m guessing he took rifle fire.”
“I didn’t realize PIs came into contact with a lot of GSWs,” she replied skeptically.
“Parker used to be FBI,” Detective Derek Heathcliff said from behind. “You can trust whatever she says. She knows what she’s talking about.”
“Detective,” the officer spun to face him, “she was kneeling over the body when I arrived.”
Heathcliff shrugged. “Of course, she was. Where else would she be?”
“Sir?” the officer asked.
“I’ll take it from here.” He sent her to assist in the hunt for
the shooter and stared at me, taking everything in. “Are you okay, Alex? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I need to wash my hands.”
His eyes narrowed, and he nodded down at the body. “Is that his blood?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay, come on.” Heathcliff led me into the building and located the restroom just off the side of the lobby. He pushed the door open to the men’s room and turned on the nearest faucet. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
I rinsed my hands before soaping them up. More images flooded my mind. So much blood. I swallowed uncertainly. “CryptSpec believed they had a breach. The CEO thought it was internal. He suspected someone was copying their programming and selling it to a competitor. For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been investigating under the guise of human resources manager. The party responsible was fired a few minutes ago. Given the circumstances and CryptSpec’s lack of security, Cross sent a team to make sure everything went smoothly.”
“Great job,” Heathcliff said sarcastically.
“The programmer didn’t open fire. I’m not sure he even left the building yet.” I turned off the water and took the offered paper towel. “I don’t know who was killed.”
“You didn’t get an ID?”
I shook my head, feeling a layer of sweat coat my skin. My mouth tasted salty. “The man had already been shot by the time I made it to the door. Someone, Hoover, maybe, noticed something strange outside. He didn’t give details. Then it was shots fired, and,” I braced myself against the sink as I fought against the beginnings of a panic attack, “he died right fucking there.”
“Hoover? Is he part of Cross’s security team?”
I nodded, finding it increasingly difficult to remain upright.
“Slow, deep breaths.” Heathcliff pulled me into his arms.
We’d worked together several times. We’d even been undercover a time or two, but we hadn’t spoken in months. The case that ended my career as a federal agent had nearly cost him his job. Neither of us had been at fault, but most days, I was convinced I was cursed and tried to keep my distance before I brought more difficulty into his life.
“I’m okay,” I said.
“Are you sure?” He took a step back and assessed me for signs of injury.
“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “We need to find the shooter, and we need an ID on the vic.”
“Actually, Parker, I need you to answer a few more questions. We’ll get statements from the rest of Cross’s people, and we’ll talk to CryptSpec. Other than that, there’s not much for you to do.”
“A man died.”
“I know. I have to do this by the book.”
A tiny smile crept onto my face. “It’s good to see things are finally back to normal, Detective.”
He nodded and led the way back to the lobby. As predicted, Lucien Cross arrived with a team of lawyers. And to think, ten minutes ago, I didn’t think my day could get any worse.
“Alex,” Cross eyed Heathcliff as if he were evil incarnate, “what the hell happened?” Before I could get a single word out, Cross changed his mind. “Don’t say anything without counsel.”
“She isn’t under arrest,” Heathcliff retorted. The detective led me past Cross and to the command center the police set up in a back office. “Take me through it.”
For the next half hour, I laid everything out. Nicholas Mansfield, CryptSpec’s CEO, had been denied a patent on their latest software innovation. A competitor had already claimed proprietary rights to the same technology. After careful examination, Mansfield realized the programming code was identical. He reached out to Cross Security to determine the source of the leaked information. After a thorough review of personnel files, background checks, and speaking to most of the employees, I determined Ian Barber, the head programmer, was responsible.
Cross Security sent a team to search Ian’s desk and office while Mansfield and I spoke to him. Barber had just been fired and told to clear out. Mansfield asked us to search Barber’s belongings to make sure he didn’t steal anything else or try to sabotage CryptSpec’s current projects now that he got the boot. Two members of the security team accompanied Barber back to his office while the other two covered the exits.
“Do you have any reason to believe Barber might be violent?” Heathcliff asked.
“I don’t think he is.”
Derek thought for a moment. Barber and Mansfield were being questioned by other detectives. “Where were you when the shooting happened?”
“Here. I just finished signing some paperwork regarding Cross Security’s contract. I don’t know how this happened or why.”
“Did anyone know Barber was getting the axe today, besides CryptSpec management and Cross Security?”
“Not that I know of. You’ll have to ask Barber’s coworkers.”
Heathcliff made a few more notes and clicked his pen. “Okay. You know how this works. If I need anything else from you, I’ll be in touch. You remember something, you call me.” He gestured to someone at the door who returned my nine millimeter. “Try to stay out of trouble, Parker.”
“Easier said than done.” I stopped in the doorway. “Hey, Derek, I won’t get in your way on this. You have my word.”
“That would be a first. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” A teasing smile pulled at his lips, and he winked. “Check with the officers outside before you leave and make sure they don’t have any more questions.”
“Will do.”
When I exited the office, Cross was huddled next to Mr. Mansfield. Spotting me, he excused himself and grabbed my elbow before I could make it safely to the door. “Why is there a dead man outside the building?”
“I don’t know. Isn’t your security team supposed to handle the dangerous situations?”
“The threat did not come from Barber or anyone inside CryptSpec. We were practically ambushed. What’s going on?”
“How would I know?”
His icy glare was supposed to intimidate. Instead, it pissed me off. “What did you tell the police?” he asked.
I jerked my arm free. “Everything they wanted to know.”
“Miss Parker,” he warned.
“Talk to your security team. Two of them were outside. They should know what happened. I don’t.” I shoved the door open, but he followed. A bloody sheet now covered the body, and I averted my eyes. “You want to know what happened? That man died before my eyes. I watched him drown in his own blood.” Flashes of long-buried events coursed through my mind. “I can’t be here right now.”
“We’ll be meeting in the conference room to address these matters. Go back to the office and wait for me there.”
Nodding, I headed in the direction of the responding officer. After a brief exchange, I climbed in my car. A million questions went through my mind. What happened? Who was the dead man? Why was he shot? Did it have anything to do with CryptSpec or Barber?
Cross Security would deal with the last part. That was where our job began and ended, and I gave Detective Heathcliff my word that I wouldn’t interfere with his investigation. Still, watching someone die wasn’t something I could easily forget. And it dredged up a lot of bad memories. The last place I needed to be was the office.
Two
“Stuart Gifford, age twenty-nine, five foot ten, one hundred and seventy-four pounds. A graduate of MIT with a degree in engineering.” Cross continued to read the profile. “Does any of this sound familiar?”
“No.” I glanced at the security team. The four men remained standing, practically at attention. I rolled my eyes. “Did he work for CryptSpec?”
“He’s not a regular employee.” Cross hit the print button and turned his attention to me. “He could have been a consultant or a temp of some sort. You were in the HR office. You had access to CryptSpec’s records and personnel. You should know if he worked there.”
“I didn’t exactly memorize everyone’s name or file.”
“You should have.”<
br />
I worked my jaw for a moment. “I never claimed to have an eidetic memory. Perhaps a robot would be better suited to meet your needs. I suggest you hire one.”
He plucked the sheet of paper off the printer and held it out. “I want a full work-up on Gifford. Get to it.”
For a moment, I stared at Lucien. It took every ounce of self-control not to tell him what he could do with this job. He returned my gaze, seemingly oblivious to my barely contained rage. He waited for me to take the paper before changing gears and grilling the security detail on what happened. Two of them had remained inside, providing an alibi for Ian Barber. However, the two stationed outside were getting ripped a new one for failing to notice and neutralize the threat.
Once inside my office, I slammed the door, balled up the paper, and threw it across the room. “Dammit,” I cursed. “Dammit all to hell.” I wanted to scream, to cry, to escape the images, the turmoil, the guilt. At least I was smart enough to realize this wasn’t about Stuart Gifford. It was about the people I lost or nearly lost. I’d only been close enough to death to look it in the eye twice before. Once was when my first partner died. The second time was when I nearly lost James Martin.
Looking down at my hands, I could still feel the sticky blood. I had to wash it off. I needed to get it off my skin and clothes. More importantly, off my mind. I grabbed my go-bag and went down the hall. Cross Security was state-of-the-art, and the locker room and showers weren’t half bad either.
After scouring my skin raw, I changed into some clean clothes and took a breath. A man was dead. That had to take precedence. There would be time later for my inevitable meltdown.
I returned to my office to do as my boss asked. Stuart Gifford. No criminal record. Outstanding student loans, sizable credit card debt, but nothing out of the ordinary given his socioeconomic status. He had a job as a civil engineer. After a quick call to his supervisor, I was made aware he was working on constructing a new bridge. As far as I could tell, he had no reason to be at CryptSpec.
Pulling my fingers away from the keys, I resisted the urge to continue digging. Frankly, we shouldn’t even know the victim’s name. Cross just happened to overhear it while he was giving his statement to the police. Since Gifford had no known connection to CryptSpec, this wasn’t our case. For once, I was convinced that I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
