by Brian Cotton
***
The USR spy got the call in from his handler. The situation with Sullivan had gone on long enough. The rogue Agent needed to be put down immediately. This was an order straight from the top, the handler stressed, so the spy knew that anything other than absolute success would lead to his punishment. The spy often thought of this, ever since he got into this line of work, about what would happen should he fail. The most likely punishment would be torture, several days’ worth, and then an execution, either public or private. Either way didn’t matter to his employers.
He finished putting his Walther PPK-S back together after a thorough cleaning. It was his ritual, even though he hadn’t fired this particular gun in quite some time. He always killed his targets with a fresh gun. He felt that this was the only way to do it. To kill another human being with a dirty gun just didn’t feel right. It also made each kill feel all the more pure to him, as well.
With the gun reassembled, he grabbed a black silencer and screwed it on, making sure that it fit right. Once satisfied, he removed it and placed it in his briefcase which lay on the bed next to him. The spy stood and stretched his back then walked over to the mirror. He stared into his own reflection and told himself that this had to be done. Not just for his own sake, but for the sake of the country. He never did enjoy the killing, but he did enjoy the fact that he was serving the USR.
After a moment with his thoughts, Kevin Little moved to the bathroom to shower.
.42
Sullivan breathed in deep as he pulled his car along the sidewalk in front of his house. Even though he really wanted to see Davie tonight, he knew that was impossible. It was far too late to go see his boy tonight. Especially since Davie had school tomorrow. He had just gotten done with another dead end meeting with Reed, this time in an old picnic shed at a local park. Reed filled him in on the current situation with their mission. Even though Sullivan was dying to know, Reed still refused to tell him what they did in that factory.
Reed also confided in Sullivan, letting him know that their continuing partnership had caused rifts from within. The Agent tried his best to comfort the rebel leader, but Sullivan knew that there was little he could do to make the rest of those boys trust him. He was, after all, involved with the enemy. During his time as an Agent, he led the charge to bring them down. He couldn’t expect them to trust him now.
“I’m telling you,” Sullivan told Reed near the end of their meeting. “I’m done with the USR. I’ve done some thinking about it today and I’m through.”
“I want to believe you…in fact, the greater part of me does believe you.” Reed replied. “But, I just can’t convince my men to take that chance. It’s not fair to them, as they’ve been with me for the long haul.”
Sullivan nodded. “Again, I understand that, but you keep that cell phone on you. I’ll let you know if I find out anything, okay?”
“Sure thing. I appreciate it.”
“Well, good luck to you. Take care of yourselves, you hear? If you ever need another soldier in your war, just give me a ring.”
“Will do.”
And, with that, Sullivan turned his back on Reed and walked out of the park still with very little answers. It was during the drive home that he began to feel a sense of contentment inside that if he never found out exactly what happened to Julie, then that was okay. As hard as it was for him, his relationship and time with her had passed, and he needed to move forward, somehow, with Davie.
With the car put in park, Sullivan got out of the vehicle and started his short walk to the front door. The neighborhood was quiet tonight. Then again, it was always quiet every night once curfew hit. He was still feeling blessed that he had not been stopped by anyone. If he did, all he had to do was flash his credentials and the rest would take care of itself. Even if he was under suspension, having anything Agent in the title went a long way.
He inserted the key in the lock and moved in. Once inside, he reset the security system by the front door and hung his jacket on the coat hanger to his right. Something felt out of place. Nothing obvious to the naked eye, it was more of a gut feeling felt within. Sullivan became cautious with his movements. It was right up the USR’s alley to kill an Agent they felt was beyond salvage. Given Sullivan’s dealings with Reed, if anyone knew about them, that term fit Sullivan like a glove.
Like all of the gut feelings Sullivan had in his life, this one turned out to be true, as well. When he reached the dining room, he saw a man in aviator sunglasses and an expensive black suit sitting at his table. When Sullivan’s movements could be heard, the man in the black suit flipped on the light switch behind him. His silenced PPK-S pointed straight forward in Sullivan’s direction.
“Have a seat,” a familiar voice said.
“Little?” Sullivan cried. “What the hell are you doing here? Did Fitzpatrick send you here?”
“Not exactly,” Little repeated. He made a motion with the gun for Sullivan to have a seat. As Sullivan obeyed the silent order, Little reached up with his free hand and removed the sunglasses. “You’ve been snooping around in places you shouldn’t, Agent…or is it ex-Agent at this point?”
“Ex.” Sullivan replied.
Little chuckled. “I see.”
“Who the hell are you, anyway?”
“I’m with the USR...not from your department or anything. I’m something of a chameleon. The USR gives me jobs all over the country and I carry them out. Sometimes, it’s things like surveillance, intelligence gathering, really boring shit.”
“And, other times?”
“Well, let’s just say that at other times, I’m ordered to take out the trash. This is one of those cases.”
Instincts started to kick in within Sullivan. He doubted that this man would have a change of heart, unlike that one rebel who broke into his home. Both situations were the same, however. He had a gun pointed at him with no easy escape. Little was obviously a trained killer, something that Sullivan wouldn’t have expected, but the boy was a damn good actor.
“How long have you been watching me?” Sullivan demanded.
“You’ve been trying to access files on your work computer. Files which contain highly sensitive and classified information.” Little paused for a moment when Sullivan’s facial expressions began to change. “You look surprised, my friend. Did you not think we keep a log of every time you tried to access those files?”
“Of course I knew that,” Sullivan replied. “I’m just surprised that you people would go to this much trouble over some curiosity.”
Little chuckled again. “We know that your…fascination with our little experiments go way beyond just curiosity. You lost a loved one to that experiment, didn’t you?”
Sullivan nodded.
“You would love nothing more than to get answers to her death. What you fail to realize is that there are things in this life which don’t need answering. You just have to trust that the USR, in all her dealings with citizens, has humanity’s best interest in mind. If you trust that, then you can live a much easier life, free from worry.”
Sullivan smirked, “How am I not supposed to worry when you’re killing innocent civilians?”
“You’re starting to think like them,” Little replied with a smirk of his own, his handgun still aimed for a perfect kill shot at Sullivan’s head. “Don’t do that, you’re not. You’ve let your little tragedy cloud your thinking. Ever since your wife’s passing, your performance has gone way down. We could just fire you, but now you’re dealing with the enemy. You’ve been having secret meetings with Travis Reed, have you not?”
“What if I have?”
“We know you have, because I know you have. Do you know how hard it is to sit back and pretend like I have no clue what’s going on when I knew exactly what you were up to?”
“If you’re having job related stress, maybe you need to find a new one.”
Little let out a small laugh. At that exact moment,
Sullivan forced the folding edge of the table upward with his left shoulder. He shoved it so hard that the edge almost came right back down on him. Little fired his gun at the movement. The bullets splintered through the edge of the table. Sullivan moved fast. He pulled the little six shooter from his ankle holster, flicked the safety off, and then fired twice at Little. Each round shattered the spy’s knee caps one at a time.
The spy cried out in pain. As he fell to the ground, he squeezed off two more rounds from the PPK-S. The bullets flew through the dining and shattered some of Julie’s old china. When Little hit the ground the gun flew from his hand. Sullivan approached, now with the upper hand. He bent over and picked up the silenced handgun that was now well out of Little’s reach. The spy tried to reach for it anyway, but it was all for naught. With both guns pointed between his eyes, gone was the arrogance in them, only fear remained.
“It’s over,” Sullivan said. “Tell me what your next move is.”
“I’m a patriot,” Little said, almost unable to get the words out because of the pain. He continued to writhe around on the floor. “I will serve the USR until the very end. Just do what you gotta do.”
“What do you mean by that?” Sullivan demanded once more.
“There’s going to be a whole new ballgame out there. One with a new set of rules. You think that we’ve got guys on every corner now? Just wait until the military takes over the streets.”
“They are going to declare martial law?”
“That’s right. Once we take care of your boys, that is.”
“What?”
“Your friends you’ve been talking to…they will be the first to go and it will signal the start of a new kind of USR. One in which the military and the police forces work in harmony to root out the resistance. It’s going to be hell…for citizens such as yourself. Their plan to take out the resistance members should be starting right about…”
Little reached behind him for another gun that he kept at his back side. Sullivan saw the sudden move and pulled the triggers from each gun twice. The four rounds shattered through Little’s skull, killing the spy instantly. The instant death was not poetic. That man on the ground deserved a far worse fate.
There was no time to stand around and think about punishments, though. Sullivan reached for his black phone and dialed Reed’s number. His heart raced through all four of the rings.
“Travis,” Reed said over the receiver.
“Travis, its Will. Listen, the USR has been onto to me.”
“What?”
“They sent in a spy to shadow me. He knew everything. He said that the USR was about to initiate Martial Law. They are going to use your deaths to justify the need for it.”
“Shit!”
“You need to get lost now. Get your family safe, if you can. Just get the hell out of wherever you are.”
“What about you?” Reed asked. Sounds of his family could be heard in the background.
“Call your people. Tell them to meet at the bridge where we met in two hours. We’ll go from there. I’m going to join you guys. I’ve nothing left for the USR. I’m nothing but expendable now.”
“Okay, I’ll relay the message.”
“Be careful.” Sullivan said.
“You, too.”
Sullivan ended the call and ran straight for his car.
.43
Just as Reed ended the call with the last of his comrades there was a banging noise outside his door. The door was already barricaded with a strong piece of wood, but that wouldn’t hold out for long. There was no escape from here. Being in the basement level, they didn’t have any back windows that could be used. Unless there was some kind of miracle, like Reed being able to fight them off on his own, there was no hope for them now.
“You all stay back here,” Reed said. “Stay close to your mama okay.”
The children all moved in on Belle. Tears were welling up in her eyes. Reed couldn’t stand the sight of it, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. He fucked up big time and his family was about to pay the price for it. As he moved to the kitchen, the pounding on the door grew louder and more aggressive. The wood was starting to break in half. Reed grabbed the AK-47 he had stashed behind the stove and clicked the safety off. Down on one knee, he kept the weapon trained on the door.
He wondered if all that he had done was worth it.