Plus Side/Minus Side
Jake opened his eyes.
He was in a hospital; he could tell by the surroundings. And the fact that he had a tube in his nose.
A man in a black suit was standing over him.
“Mr. Jenkins, can you hear me?”
Jake tried nodding. A sharp pain ran from his neck all the way down his spine and back up to his neck.
But he must have nodded enough. The man continued.
“Good. Mr. Jenkins, do you have any memory of how you got here?”
He didn’t, and decided no movement at all was a better option than attempting to shake his head “no”.
“You were injured very badly. You were in a coma for several months. So you have no memory of how you were injured?”
Jake remained motionless.
The man in the suit looked around, then turned back to Jake and lowered his voice. “Mr. Jenkins, I’m from the CIA. You are one of our highest-ranking assassins. You were on a classified mission when we lost contact with you, and when we located you, you were…well, you were lying unconscious on the sidewalk outside a Burger King in Jacksonville, Florida. Do you have any memory of that?”
Jake still remained motionless, but his cheeks and ears started burning. It all came back to him: He was in Jacksonville on a job–he was supposed to be taking out some Mexican drug kingpin who was rumored to be in town on business–and he had stopped at the BK for dinner on his way back to his hotel one night. It had been a rough day, traffic going both ways had been a bitch, and then the kid at the drive-thru window had given him attitude when Jake had asked him for napkins.
So Jake had decided to assassinate the kid. He knew it was an extreme measure to take, but he had been operating in moral gray areas for so long that it almost seemed justified. When someone was a problem, you took them out; that’s just what you did. He had been paid to do that for years. As long as he could remember. And he could have gotten away with it, too, since the Agency had seen to it that, due to the nature of his job, Jake technically didn’t “exist”.
He had parked in the lot and was in the process of climbing up onto the BK’s roof to find a spot from where he’d pick the kid off later that night as the little punk was leaving work when he slipped. And had landed on his head.
So there Jake was, pretending to listen to the man in the black suit as he filled Jake in on what they knew about the “incident”.
On the plus side, he was lucky to be alive. And he could move his fingers and toes; by some miracle, he wasn’t even paralyzed.
But, on the minus side, he was going to have a good bit of explaining to do.