by G. K. Parks
Purview of Flashbulbs
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: 978-1-942710-13-4
Print ISBN-10: 1942710135
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
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
Note from the Author:
About the Author
One
“Miss Parker, the car is out front.”
I pressed the speaker button on my desk phone. “Thanks, I’m on my way.”
Taking a final sip of coffee, I checked my reflection in the mirror and smoothed my skirt in place. I hated interviews. I moved briskly down the corridor and smiled at the assistant who was standing beside the waiting elevator. The office building wasn’t exactly bustling at six a.m.
“Good luck,” she called as the doors shut.
When I exited the building, I saw the stretch limousine idling directly in front of me. The hazards were blinking, but that was the only sign of life. I took a step forward, and the driver opened his door. His attire was beyond anything a federal agent could afford. Private security really did have its perks.
“Alexis Parker?” he asked, even as he moved down the length of the vehicle to the rear door. “We’ve been waiting.”
Refraining from stating that it was six o’clock in the morning and I was only awakened and told to get to the office an hour earlier, I muttered an apology and climbed into the back seat. While my eyes adjusted to the dark interior, I couldn’t help but think that every time I got into a car with strangers, things never went well.
A woman sat on the bench seat. A silk scarf covered her hair and was tied in a decorative knot at the side of her neck. She wore large Jackie O sunglasses and looked like one of the Old Hollywood film stars of the 1950s. Her lips were painted a glossy red, and she stared straight at me. Although, I wasn’t certain she could see through the dark lenses in the dimly lit interior.
“Would you care for something to drink?” Her voice sounded husky, but I didn’t recognize it or her.
“One of us just woke up,” I retorted.
Her laugh came out as a soft lilt. “Coffee then?” She pushed a button, and the built-in cabinet beside her opened to reveal several mugs and a single-cup brewer.
“No. What is this about?” I asked.
“Lucien didn’t tell you?”
“He doesn’t tell me much. He just told me to get to the office because a client was waiting.”
She selected a delicate white cup and placed it beneath the brewer before pushing a button. It hissed, and steam rose, filling the air with the scent of an exotic dark roast. She carefully removed her beverage, closed the cabinet, and pushed a button for the intercom. “Dennis, let’s circle for a bit. The park might be nice.” She waited for the slight lurch of the limousine going into motion before she settled back against the seat and took a sip. “Miss Parker, I was told until recently you were an FBI field agent.”
“Technically, I was part of the OIO, an elite branch of the FBI.”
“Even better.” She held the cup securely on her lap, and my eyes were drawn to the dark red half-moon smudge. “Have you ever fired your weapon?”
“Yes.”
“Not in training, my dear. Out there.” She gestured with her free hand at the tinted windows.
“Yes.”
“What else have you done?”
“Whatever I had to.”
She put the cup into a round depression at the top of the cabinet and reached for a notepad and pen. “That’s clever.” She scribbled something down. “Do you have experience dealing with drug dealers, terrorists, or serial killers?”
I studied her, unsure what type of job she needed fulfilled. “Yes,” I said uncertainly.
She looked up from her notepad. “To which?”
“All of them.”
“That is excellent.” She leaned forward. “Tell me, have you killed anyone?”
“Look, I’m not entirely sure what my boss promised you, but this would go a little easier if you told me why you contacted Cross Security. I’m a private investigator. He has others at the firm who deal with security issues. Perhaps it’d be best if you spoke to one of them.”
She bit her lip. “No, it wouldn’t.” She found my answer irksome and cocked her head from side to side. “Have you ever provided private protection?”
“Not for Cross Security.”
A knowing look played across her face. She was intelligent. She could read between the lines. “I take it you have killed someone. Was that while you were at the FBI or working in the private sector?”
Whatever this was, I wanted it to be over. I wanted out of the car. My gaze darted to the door and out the window. Maybe when we stopped for a light, I’d make a break for it.
She watched me with utter fascination, like I was some kind of specimen. “You don’t want to talk about it.”
“I want to know what this is about.”
“I understand that, but I need you to answer my questions. If you won’t, I’m sure Lucien has a file he could provide.”
My boss put me in the back of this car, which meant this was a client he wanted. The limousine and driver meant whoever this woman was, s
he had money. Lots of it. Even if I wouldn’t play ball, I knew he would. I looked at the privacy window separating the rear of the limo from the driver. “Yes.”
“While on the job or off?”
“Both.”
“I’m sorry. I imagine that must have been difficult.” She wrote something else on her sheet of paper. “Have you ever been wounded? Is that the proper term?”
“It is. Do you want to see the scars?” I asked flippantly.
She sat up straighter. Her entire appearance seemingly lighting up. “Actually, that might be incredibly useful. Are they bullet wounds?”
“I was being sarcastic.”
She slumped against the seat and reached for her coffee. “Oh.” She thought for a moment, trying to understand something. “So was that a yes to being shot?”
I rolled my eyes. “You know, I actually would prefer if you hash the rest of this out with Mr. Cross. I don’t think I’ll be of any use to you, ma’am. But I’m sure he’ll find someone who is.”
“Why did you leave the FBI?”
“An assignment went south. Things happened.”
“Now was that the first time or second time you left?”
Her latest question cut through the bullshit. She knew a lot more than she should, and I wasn’t sure if that was Cross’s doing. “Who are you? Why are you asking these questions?”
“I mean you no harm, Miss Parker. These are just background questions. We did our research, and we asked Lucien for his help and input. You seem to be the perfect candidate.”
“Candidate for what? I already have a job.”
“I know. This won’t take long. A couple of weeks. Cross Security is already under contract with the production company. We’re in need of a technical consultant, but I was hoping for a ride-along. Someone I can mimic and learn from. You’ll do nicely.”
My brows scrunched. “A ride-along?”
She pushed the intercom button. “Take us back, Dennis.” She finished her cup of coffee. “Our legal team will meet with you this afternoon. Once the NDA is signed, you’ll be given additional details. I find this cloak and dagger routine rather entertaining, but I can comprehend why you would find it unnerving and potentially dangerous.” Her eyes narrowed on my purse. “Are you carrying a weapon?”
“Always.”
She made a note of that also. “That might cause an issue. We’ll let our bosses figure that out.” She looked contrite. “I hope you weren’t offended by my questions or this meeting. That was not my intention. I hope we can be friends. There’s a lot I can learn from you.” She opened the cabinet again and placed her cup inside. “Are you sure I can’t get you a cup of coffee? It really is the least I can do after dragging you out at this horrible hour.”
“Not unless it’s going to provide some kind of insight into what you hoped to accomplish with this meeting.”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
The limo stopped in the exact place it had been when I entered, and Dennis opened my door. I stepped out, casting a final wary look at the unidentified woman before going back inside the office building. Lucien had a lot of explaining to do.
By the time I made it upstairs, he had already started the morning meeting. For some reason, he decided to call everyone else in a few hours early too. He probably figured there would be safety in numbers and didn’t want to deal with one of my outbursts. No matter how hard he tried, I refused to grasp the boss-employee dynamic. And he despised my insistence on autonomy.
Barging into the room, I took my usual spot at the conference table. A few of my colleagues stifled their snickers. Lucien Cross slid a blue folder in front of me while he continued speaking about our newest clients. Lancaster asked a few questions about the specific case he had been assigned, and while the men were talking, I looked to see what the boss had in store for me. Answers to what just happened would be great.
“Really?” I looked around the conference table, suspecting this was some sort of trick. “This is a joke, right?” At least that would explain the snickers.
“Of course not,” Cross replied.
Bennett Renner, one of my colleagues, diverted his eyes and coughed in an attempt to hide his laughter. Darwin, Lancaster, and Simms were distracted by the assignments they had just been handed and didn’t seem to care one way or the other about what I had been tasked to do. Kellan Dey, on the other hand, gazed at me with pity in his eyes. At least someone seemed to understand.
“Is there a problem, Miss Parker?” Lucien asked. His tone became prickly, and I knew he expected me to answer in the negative.
“Several. Let’s start with why me,” I said, disappointing him as usual.
He cast looks around the table. “Does anyone else have any questions or concerns?”
“No, sir,” several of the others responded.
“Then get to work.” Cross leaned back in his chair and waited for his team of investigators to file out.
Renner clapped me on the back on his way to the door. “This could be your big break, Alex. Maybe they’ll ask you to do a bit part, and you’ll be discovered. I’ll be able to say I knew you when.”
“That’s enough, Bennett,” Cross hissed.
The former police detective smiled. “Whatever you say, boss.” He was the last to leave the room.
“So this is a bullshit assignment?” I asked once we were alone. “Is this some hazing ritual? Is this even real?” I gestured at the contract. Aside from the name of the production company and a generic list of required duties, no other details were provided. I scanned the page again, wondering if Cross had one of the techs upstairs draft it just to see how I’d react. Hell, he probably hired the woman and limo driver just to make me think this was real. The one thing I’d learned about my boss in the six weeks since I’d started working for him, he liked to test people.
“I assure you it’s quite real.” He let out a lengthy exhale. “Cross Security has been providing protection and consultants to Broadway Films for the last seven years. Whenever they film locally, my firm handles their security. We handle their security. Depending on their requirements, I have also provided the film company with technical advisors.” He glanced down at the contract on the table. “You’ll be given additional details when you meet with their legal team.” He looked at his watch. “I suggest you lose the attitude. And try not to act starstruck. We’re professionals. This firm has a reputation to uphold.”
“Then why is Renner acting like this is some big joke?”
“It is not, and you have more important things to do than waste time trying to figure him out.” Cross stood, but I remained seated. “Is there something else you wanted to say?”
“What was the deal with the woman in the car? Who is she?”
“She wanted to make sure you were just as promising in person as you are on paper.” Subconsciously, he looked at his phone, and I knew she sent him a message as soon as I got out of the car. A brief smile danced across his lips. “Alexis, you are the only person with the unique set of attributes for which they are looking. They wanted a female federal agent with field experience, preferably former FBI.”
“And I can check all those boxes.”
“Precisely.” He went to the door. “They’ll send a car to pick you up this afternoon. Someone from reception will let you know when it arrives. Until then, make sure you have the rest of your case work in order. Once you start with Broadway Films, you won’t have much time to check in at the office. If you have anything ongoing that is time-sensitive, pass it off to Mr. Dey.”
“Do I have a choice?”
He studied me for a moment. “This is a great opportunity, Alex. It isn’t dangerous, and honestly, after your audition with my firm, I feel I owe you something easy and safe. Just meet with their legal team, and if you decide you still want to pass, I’ll find someone else to do it.”
“Thank you.”
He gave me a final look. “Just give it a chance.” That wasn’t a suggestion.
“Spill,” I said as soon as he sat down. “What do you know about Broadway Films?”
“Plenty.”
“Like?”
Kellan sighed. “What Cross didn’t tell you is this is the worst assignment you can get. We’ve all served our time on set. The good news is no one will shoot you, unless it’s with a prop gun. The bad news is you will be bored out of your mind, and the hours are absolute shit.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad. It’s like any other day stuck in the office.”
“Not in the least. The first day will be lovely. They’ll try to woo you. Make you feel like a real asset. Someone they value and cherish. That will stop just as soon as your input contradicts their cinematic vision. Also, working on set will completely decimate whatever glamourous view you have of Hollywood and the movie business. And don’t even get me started on the mind fuck the questions can be.”
“I’m a big girl. I can survive a look behind the curtain.” I just wasn’t sure if I could deal with that woman or her prying questions. “What exactly do they want to know?”
“The basics — how to hold a gun, if shouting freeze is realistic, the proper way of breaching a house.” He shrugged. “Things like that. Y’know, the muscle memory stuff that we don’t even think about.”
That didn’t sound so bad, just tedious and boring. “Great,” I said nonplussed. “I was afraid it was more cerebral than that.”
“It can be. It just depends on the writers and actors and how badly they want to incorporate real life,” he put air quotes around the words, “into their film.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“You like movies, don’t you?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“That might change after this.” He stood and tapped the edge of my desk. “I’ll see you in a few weeks, and you can bitch all about it. In the meantime, I offer you a few parting words of advice. Actors are assholes. Drugs will be on the set; it’s just a matter of looking. And don’t hesitate to ask craft services to make you something special. If you eat what they leave out for the crew, you’ll gain twenty pounds and feel like you’ve been stuck on the world’s most boring stakeout for the entire duration.”