Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1)

by Cotton, Brian

  “I think we lost them!” the woman yelled.

  “Your mind must be with them!”

  Eleven

  Sullivan waited in front of Fitzpatrick’s desk. On either side of him sat the two bastards who gunned down the defenseless old leftover: Mason on his right, Wilcox on his left. He thought he understood his mission. To find and eradicate the resistance within the USR by any means necessary. Like today’s mission, however, sometimes what his captain sent him out to do didn’t make the most sense.

  What would that woman have done if they just left her alone? What kind of information did Fitzpatrick think they could get out of her? Sullivan thought about it the entire ride back to the station. He tried with everything in him to come up with one, just one, justification for her death. Nothing came to mind.

  Sullivan turned at the sound of the door opening behind him. Fitzpatrick strode in and eased the door shut. He had a stack of manila folders in his left arm and he walked over to his desk. Fitzpatrick sat the folders in a neat stack on top. He pulled the expensive leather chair back, sat down, and took in a deep breath.

  “That was a good job today,” Fitzpatrick said. “You did me and the department proud.”

  Sullivan replied, “Thank you, sir.”

  “Why you thanking him?” Mason demanded.

  Fitzpatrick leaned forward. “What are you talking about, Mason?”

  “Mr. Sully had a crisis of conscience out there today.”

  “Will, what is he saying?”

  “I wanted to bring her in for questioning.” Sullivan replied. “Maybe get some valuable Intel from her.” He turned to Mason and looked square in his eyes. “But these two gunslingers you sent me with couldn’t hold it long enough.”

  Wilcox butted in, “That’s our job, sir. To eliminate the resistance. Dead to the last man…or woman.”

  “An old woman. Who posed no threat whatsoever to us. We didn’t even find anything in there, did we? We sure as hell can’t question her now.” Sullivan said.

  “She must have sent all her letters out.” Mason chimed in with a grin.

  Fitzpatrick leaned back in his chair. “Were you able to find anything? Please tell me this operation had some merit.”

  “No, sir,” Sullivan replied. “We found some knitting projects. She could’ve poked Wilcox to death with one of those plastic things.”

  “Fuck you, Sully…”

  “Enough!” Fitzpatrick cried out. “We wasted a lot of good time out there today. Mason, Wilcox, you two sons of bitches need to cool your trigger fingers.”

  Mason cleared his throat, “Maybe Sully over here should stop being a pussy.”

  “Listen, you…” Sullivan said.

  “No, you listen!” Mason shouted with a red face. “You could have gotten us killed today. Yeah, she only had a knitting needle, but what if she was packing? Wilcox would be dead for sure. Me, too. Only you and that woman would’ve made it out alive.”

  “What the hell?” Sullivan replied.

  “She would have spared you, because you are working for them.”

  Fitzpatrick held up his hand. “Whoa, whoa, you know how we feel about making such accusations around here.”

  “Just speculating,” Mason replied. He stood and pointed his index finger in Sullivan’s face. “You put my life at risk again and I’ll bury you.”

  Sullivan stood as well. Mason crossed the line. It was one thing to kill a leftover in cold blood with no evidence. It was another to bring Sullivan into it, and in the process, putting his family at risk. He balled his fists and fought back every urge to slug Mason. His face grew red and his breathing heavy.

  “That’s quite an accusation,” Sullivan said through gritted teeth. “You have any proof?”

  Wilcox moved in from behind. “Plenty. You didn’t want us killing one of your own people. I get it. You hide behind that badge and feed secrets to them. Think about it.”

  Sullivan’s heart rate increased with the reddening of his face. He felt surrounded and his self-defense instincts started to kick in. He could feel Wilcox’s hot breath against the back of his neck. Mason just stood in front of him, not wavered by Sullivan’s standing up to him.

  “Enough,” Fitzpatrick called from behind his desk. “Mason, Wilcox step outside.”

  “But, sir…” Mason said; his gaze still on Sullivan.

  “Get out now!”

  Wilcox’s eyes met Sullivan’s as he walked from behind. He grabbed the gold door handle and exited first. Mason gave another point at Sullivan before he followed his ass mate outside. He slammed the door shut behind him. Sullivan wondered how the glass stayed intact.

  “You don’t believe him, do you?” Sullivan asked. He sat back down in his chair.

  “No,” Fitzpatrick replied. “They just want your job. But you should take extra precaution out there. You know how it works.”

  Sullivan sighed, “I understand. Where do we go from here? We found nothing at that leftover’s house.”

  “I don’t know. Forte is out there, though, he’ll find something for us to do.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “How’s your boy doing?”

  The one thing that Sullivan promised himself he would never do was to bring his family to work. No matter how hard he tried to keep the two separate, Fitzpatrick would bring up little Davie out of nowhere. Why? What did his son have to do with any of this?

  “Got straight A’s on his last report card.” Sullivan said.

  “Smart boy. You’re raising a regular old genius. Maybe he’ll grow up to be like us someday.”

  “Like you said,” Sullivan said with another sigh. “He’s a smart boy.”

  The door burst open and startled both men inside. The two dick wads entered with an attractive brunette who held a small phone to her ear. The expression on her face told Sullivan that something big had just gone down. Mason and Wilcox matched each other with stupid grins. Not a good sign, either.

  “Sir,” the brunette said.

  “Yes,” Fitzpatrick replied.

  “We’ve got trouble. There was a shooting at that apartment your men were just at. Three Agents are dead and one more is in bad shape.”

  “Still think she’s innocent, Sully?” Mason demanded.

  “William,” Fitzpatrick said and stood from his chair. “Take your two partners and get over there now!”

  What the hell was going on?

  Twelve

  The woman stopped the motorcycle in front of a small, one bedroom house. Kaspar recognized the chipped white paint, ugly shit brown shutters, and unkempt small yard from anywhere. It was Danny’s house. What were they doing here? Did this have something to do with that man he said he knew? Kaspar lifted his right leg over the seat. Once on his feet he struggled to take the helmet off of his head. He placed it on the seat cushion once he got it pulled off and followed the woman to the front door. She kept looking from side to side to ensure that nobody followed them here. After two rings on the door bell, Danny arrived and hurried both of them in.

  Once inside the woman took off her helmet and then shook her jet black hair loose. She had to be that same woman from the alley earlier in the morning. No doubt about it. Just what had Danny gotten into? More importantly, why did he lie about it? The woman looked over at Kaspar then to Danny.

  “Here’s your boy,” she said. “He’s a real butch.”

  “Just who in the hell are you, anyway?” Kaspar demanded.

  “The name’s Krysta, but you can just call me Krys.”

  “Well, Krys,” Kaspar said. He bowed his head, “It’s nice to meet you, you fucking lunatic.”

  “I just saved your life, Thumbelina. How about a thank you?”

  “Well, thank you all the same. But with that crazy driving you could’ve gotten us both killed.”

  “And,” Krys said, “If I hadn’t have saved your sorry ass they would’ve killed you. So, what exactly is your argument here?”

  “Krys,” Danny said. He wal
ked over and rubbed at the woman’s shoulders. “He’s under a lot of stress, why don’t you let me talk to him?”

  “Sure,” Krys said. She turned towards the door. “I have to get back anyway.”

  “You watch yourself out there.” Danny said.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Krys walked out the door, holding her helmet in her left hand. Kaspar watched as Danny stared down her backside. It was confirmed now; Danny had lied to him earlier. He felt like punching the old man in the face. Outside of Mother, Danny was the only person he thought he could trust. He couldn’t trust anybody now.

  “Danny, what is going on?” Kaspar asked.

  “Have a seat in the living room.” Danny replied. He looked around the neighborhood before he shut the door and locked the dead bolt.

  Kaspar walked into the living room and took a seat on the couch. His nerves calmed, but the anger burned inside of him still. He rubbed his fists together while he rocked his upper body back and forth in a slow, steady motion. Confusion joined with anger and sorrow in the consummation of his mind. Her death not fully sunk in, all he could think about were her eyes. Her wide open eyes…

  In an attempt to get his mind off of Mother, he looked around at the old pictures that Danny had posted on the walls. He saw pictures of Danny and Ruth, the old bastard’s dead wife, on their wedding day. That stupid grin on Danny’s face made him look like the happiest man on the planet. There were also pictures of the fighters that he trained in the old days. Kaspar noticed one with a mean looking black man, with some kind of tattoo on his face, holding a title belt in the air.

  Danny entered the living room, which broke Kaspar’s thoughts from the pictures on the wall. The old man had two mugs with steam shooting up from the tops. He handed one to Kaspar before he took a seat on his recliner. Kaspar put the mug to his lips and let the bland tasting coffee burn down his dry throat.

  “What the hell is going on? Why did you lie to me?” Kaspar demanded.

  “Lied about what?”

  “That woman. The woman you said you didn’t know. Why did you lie about that and just who in the hell are you anyway?”

  “Easy, boy, easy.”

  “Don’t you tell me to take it easy. I just saw my mother lying dead on the couch—just had my life flash before my eyes with that crazy woman you said you didn’t know…”

  “I’ll give you some answers once you calm your wily ass down!”

  He sipped at the hot coffee once more. Danny was right, no matter how hard it was to agree with him. Calm down, get the answers, and then beat the shit out of him. Getting all hot and bothered right now would serve no purpose. What was done was…the answers would come. He just needed to know who killed Mother so the favor could be returned.

  “You calm now?” Danny asked.

  “Yes,” Kaspar replied.

  “Good. First things first, I guess. I’ve been dishonest with you for a while…a long time actually. Pretty much from the day we met.”

  “I knew it…” Kaspar replied. He had to force himself to not lose control again.

  “I haven’t been training you just to fight and win money. I’ve been working for someone else…someone who is deep within the resistance.”

  Kaspar took another sip and swallowed hard. “The resistance? Who is this person?”

  “He’s a leftover, just like me. He’s known nothing but war. So, needless to say, he started his own little war once the USR started getting bigger.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “Well, believe it, son. You’ll be the third person that I’ve trained for him. One of my guys just bit the dust. You see that on the news?”

  Kaspar did remember the news broadcast from a few weeks back. The Consul held up a tattered American flag. He remembered, to a round of applause, the Consul vowed to hunt down and kill all the resistance members. He remembered Mother making a comment about what that flag meant to her before she spaced out on him and forgot what she was saying. The spacing out increased with each of those pills she was forced to take.

  “This is crazy,” Kaspar replied. “Danny? You of all people?”

  “That’s right. But, you’re not ready, yet. You’ve still got your own personal shit that you need to take care of first.”

  “Do you know who killed my mother?”

  “Not specific people, of course. But, we do know that the USR was responsible for it.” Danny said. He sipped at his coffee.

  “The USR? Why?”

  “From what we were able to dig up, someone being interrogated—tortured—implicated her as sympathetic to the resistance. That, plus her age, and you’ve got a recipe for arrest or…well, you know.”

  “That’s bullshit. Bullshit. All she did was watch TV all day and knit and…” Kaspar paused. He felt a warm tear roll down his cheek.

  “Krys was sent in to save your mother, but she didn’t make it in time. You’re just lucky she was able to get your patty ass outta there.”

  “I’m glad,” Kaspar used his arm to wipe away the tear, “that you guys have an excellent sense of timing.”

  “I’m sorry. I liked her and I know how much she meant to you. If there was anything that could’ve been done…”

  None of this made any sense, Kaspar thought as Danny’s words started to fall on deaf ears. Kaspar began to rock back and forth on the couch once more, his arms folded across his chest. Nothing but questions filled his mind now. Questions that needed answering. Answers that he started to doubt would come.

  “Did you give her up?” Kaspar asked without looking at Danny.

  “What?” Danny replied, shocked at the question.

  “You know,” Kaspar looked over at Danny. “As a means of getting to me?”

  “No.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “What’s gotten into you? We tried to save her.”

  “What about me? The USR knows who I am now. They’ll come looking for me.”

  “They rely too much on their technology.” Danny replied. “We’ve erased you from their system. You’ll be fine.”

  “Erased me?”

  “They no longer have a file on you. So, unless you are face to face with anyone who saw you today, you’ll be fine.”

  “Who’s this leader? He’s that guy you talked about who might have work for me, right?” Kaspar demanded.

  “Yes. I was going to introduce you to him in due time, but like I said, you’re not ready. But, they just lost a man, so maybe.”

  “Maybe I should go it alone. You know? Find the killers myself. Nobody to get in my way.”

  “You’ll be dead within the hour.” Danny said. He fished a cigarette out of his chest pocket and pulled out a lighter. “The resistance, they have the tools necessary for you. I just don’t know if right now is the right time.”

  “Could there be a better time?”

  Danny nodded. “I see your point.”

  The smell of burning tobacco attacked Kaspar’s nostrils. He looked over and saw Danny held one out for him. Kaspar accepted it and placed it in between his dry lips. The old man lit the cigarette for him. A deep breath forced a violent cough. It drew a laugh from the old man.

  “When can I talk to him?” Kaspar asked. He ignored the laugh.

  “I can arrange a meet up tonight. Just be on your best behavior. Don’t go messing this up.”

  “I’ve already done enough of that.”

  “Meet him at the corner of Fifth and Main. Eight-thirty: sharp.”

  ***

  The bodies of the dead Agents lay on the near rotten floors for Sullivan’s visual delight. The coroners bumped into him from behind with the black bags. The Agent with the broken nose sat on the couch where the leftover’s body had been. He held a handful of gauze over the nose, the blood still leaked through. Somebody had some fun, all right.

  “Did you see anything?” Sullivan asked while he approached the Agent.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “There was this guy. Pretty tall, I suppose,
looked like he could handle himself in a fight.”

  “Did he look like he knew her?”

  “She was probably his mother. He must’ve lived here, too. One of the bedrooms is full of men’s clothing and shit.”

  Son of a bitch, Sullivan thought. He cursed himself for leaving the scene and leaving the cleanup to these neophytes.

  “Did he do all of this?” Sullivan demanded.

  “No,” the Agent replied. He pulled back the gauze for a moment and the blood flowed still. He replaced the gauze and squeezed at his nose. “There was this…woman, I think. She did the shooting, sir.”

  “You think it was a woman?”

  “This person sure as hell didn’t have a typical male body if it was a he.”

  Sullivan pulled out a legal pad and his pen. “Describe this person.”

  “About five seven, maybe eight. She wore a black jacket, dark jeans. She had on this black helmet with a tinted visor, so I can’t tell you what she looks like or nothin’.”

  “And ‘she’ did all of this?” Sullivan asked to reiterate.

  “That’s right, sir.”

  “No backup or anything?”

  “No, sir. She moved so fast. I didn’t even see the blow comin’ that knocked my ass out.”

  “Tell me more about the man that was here. Did he say anything? Do anything?”

  “He just stayed on his knees. Held his hands straight up in the air like a good citizen.”

  “Describe him for me a little more.” Sullivan said.

  “I don’t know, man. Details are still a bit hazy. Sandy blonde hair, buzzed. Scruff on his face. Blue eyes.”

  “Is that all you have for me?”

  “That’s it,” the Agent replied. “I was knocked out when that girl had her fun. I didn’t see the shootin’ take place.”

  “All right. Get yourself to the hospital and get that nose cleaned up.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The Agent stood and saluted Sullivan with his free hand before he walked out. Pointless, Sullivan thought. He heard the Agent slam his fist into the doorway before he walked out. Sullivan shook his head and walked towards the back. Inside what was presumed now to be the leftover’s son’s old bedroom stood Mason and Wilcox. They already started ripping the place to pieces.