He sat down on his chair, let out another sigh, and leaned back. He rubbed his fingers through his hair and something caught his eye. On his desk rested a golden framed picture of his son. Little Davie looked so happy, so full of life in all of his photos, this school picture especially. The innocence of youth slapped Sullivan in the face. He reached over and laid the picture down.
He hid his face from his smiling son.
***
Paxton threw the used cigarette butt outside the opened window. He looked over to the back of the van. Kaspar rested his back on one of the benches, his black bag covered face looked straight up. He might have been asleep, lost in a sea of dreams. Paxton thought about checking on him, but thought better of it. If he were asleep, it would be best to let the kid get the winks in while he still could.
The more the miles went by, the more Paxton began to question himself about his latest recruit. The kid couldn’t shoot worth shit, not to mention his emotional issues. Desperate times called for desperate measures, however. If Zach were still around, there was no way in hell they would even consider a punk like Kaspar. But, the larger question at hand became how to convince the members of The Committee to let him join.
The Committee, as Paxton explained it over breakfast, was a secret alliance formed by former politicians and young idealistic men. They had a Chamber in every major city across the country. Once the battle was won, the members would align themselves together to form the new government that would resemble that of old. That, of course, depended on whether or not the politicians messed it up again or not.
Paxton tried to focus on the road again. The truth was, he hated these long drives back and forth, but he knew they were necessary. Times like these, with nothing but the paved road ahead, forced him to think about his wife again, his beautiful Randi. He remembered when he came home from North Korea, before everything went to shit, the look on her face when he walked into that gymnasium. She gave him that smile which originally caught his attention. The lights from the ceiling hit her eyes in such a perfect way that they lit up the entire room. He reached to her and wrapped his strong arms around her…
“We almost there?” Kaspar asked, the bag over his head muffled his words.
“Yeah, kid.” Paxton replied.
“Good.”
Kaspar couldn’t remember how long it had been since that son of a bitch made him put this thing over his head. He thought he could get the better of Paxton, though, and tried to memorize the turns and how long in between. He gave up after the third left, which was preceded by four rights in quick succession. Upon giving up, his thoughts went back to Mother, of course. After about an hour on the firing range, he started to get a feel for shooting.
It won’t be long now, Mother. Pretty soon, I’ll be gunning people down like John.
The van came to an abrupt halt. The loud clicks of the emergency brake filled Kaspar’s ears. About damn time. He sat up and cracked his back, then took off the black mask when given the order to do so. The back doors of the van opened up and Kaspar hopped out the back. With that bag over his head so long, the sunlight ripped into his corneas, forcing him to squint. There was nothing familiar about his surroundings. They were in an alley way in between tall buildings he never saw before.
Paxton reached into his pockets and fished out a security card while Kaspar followed him to the back door. The old veteran swiped the card then entered a five digit pass code. The air tight lock released with a long hiss. They entered the building then arrived in a dimly lit lobby. There was not a window in sight. No chance for the USR to get a peek or a shot in. Armed men, dressed in black fatigues, surrounded the room. M4 Carbines rested in each of their hands, an American flag attached to their thick Kevlar vests.
Kaspar could feel that familiar feeling that increased in annoyance. The feeling of not knowing what was going on would soon drive him to madness. He just wanted to…feel as if he was in the loop, if for nothing else that his own mind’s sake. The eerie silence of the room didn’t help matters at all. All those guards were so damned quiet. None of them moved, save for one guard who checked his wrist watch. It wasn’t enough to have to meet The Committee, but the silence added to his nervousness. Somebody say something…
“Let me tell you something, kid.” Paxton said.
“What’s that?” Kaspar asked, his eyes continued to dart around the lobby.
“Just answer each of their questions with a ‘yes, sir’ and you’ll be fine.”
“What questions should I expect?”
“Remember how I grilled you last night?”
“How’d I do?” Kaspar asked, but he already knew the answer.
“You failed miserably.”
“Thanks for that vote of confidence.”
“Oh,” Paxton said, “one more thing.”
“What?”
“The Committee wants patriots, not vigilantes. Keep your little revenge mission to yourself.”
Paxton led the way to the front desk. The silent armed guards kept their gaze on the two men. Seated behind the desk a plain looking receptionist sat. She had blonde hair, wore a cheap faded green dress, and had a string of fake pearls around her neck. When her eyes met Paxton’s, an all too pleasant smile grew from ear to ear.
“Ah, Mr. Paxton, how are you today?”
“Not bad, yourself?” Paxton replied.
“Just fine, thanks.”
“How are Isabella and Isaac?”
“Ike brought home straight A’s and Bella’s learning to talk a bit better, sweetheart.”
Paxton chuckled, “So, you can actually make out what she says?”
“Ha, just a little bit. What brings you here today?”
“New recruit,” Paxton said. He motioned for Kaspar to step up to the desk. “We need to introduce him to the Board.”
“And, what’s your name, sugar?” the receptionist asked. Her pleasantness gave Kaspar the creeps.
“Ryan.”
“Well, I’m Amy. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Amy stuck out her skinny hand and Kaspar embraced it. He applied little pressure to the handshake, wouldn’t be much of a first impression if he shattered every bone in the poor receptionist’s hand.
“It’ll be just a moment.” Amy said and stood up from her chair. “I’ll let them know you’re here. Y’all just relax out here for a moment.”
Easy for you to say, Kaspar thought. He knew that this would be the only legitimate shot he had to exact revenge. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed Paxton’s teaching and the resistance’s weapons to pull it off. The nervous energy inside of him intensified when he tried to think of what The Committee would ask him. He tried to come up with as many bullshit responses before he would have to go in there.
“Stop that.” Paxton said.
“Stop what?”
“Worrying. It’s all over your face. If you want to make it through this, calm down and cowboy up.”
A door opened to the right and Kaspar looked over. Out walked Amy, with that same creepy smile on her face. What was she so happy about? She informed the two men that The Committee members were ready. Paxton stood and led the way to the door. Once they reached the door, he gave a light shove to Kaspar’s chest.
“Wait out here,” Paxton ordered. “Let me go in first and butter them up for you.”
“Sure, take your time.”
Paxton pointed his right index finger. “Just take a seat over there.”
There was a small wooden bench on the opposite side of the door. Kaspar walked over to it and sat down. His head went straight to the floor. He wondered how long the old man would be in there for. He hoped that it wouldn’t take long. Ever since Paxton told him to keep his lust for revenge private, that was all Kaspar could think about. No matter how hard the fight, he knew deep down it was a losing battle.
Killing the men responsible…was all he lived for now.
Seventeen
Sullivan stood by the rotten frame of the doorw
ay. Inside, Thomas and his girlfriend Francis were supposedly constructing their plot to bring down the mighty USR. The drive here didn’t put to rest his doubts about the suspects. In fact, the doubts increased. He announced a brief moment before that there were Agents outside who just wanted to talk. No response, yet. Another knock on the door, this time he put more force behind his fist. No response.
“USR!” Sullivan yelled. “Don’t make us kick the door in!”
“Sully!” Mason cried. “Quit dicking around over there and kick that door in!”
Sullivan glanced over at Wilcox who gave him a blank stare back. His heart began to race and failed in its attempt to escape the ribcage. He turned his body to the door. It wouldn’t take much to kick in this piece of shit. Behind the full force of a right kick, the door gave way and splinters from the door frame flew through the stale air. Sullivan retrieved his Glock and pointed it straight forward. From behind, he could feel his two partners pushing him out of their way.
No sign of the suspects in the living room. Only stained, ripped carpet, a stale smell, and a couch with the front left leg missing. The young pricks would force the Agents to search for them. They were found huddled together inside of the bedroom closet moments later. Thomas struggled to cover up Francis as she screamed aloud. Sullivan peered into the young boy’s terrified eyes. They were not the eyes of a hardened rebel who plotted against a powerful government.
“Thomas Everson?” Sullivan asked.
“Yes, officer?” Thomas replied.
“My name is William Sullivan, I’m with the USR. We just want to talk.”
“Tommy,” Francis cried. “What is this all about?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. Can you at least explain to us what’s going on first?”
Sullivan started to say something before Mason moved in towards the closet. Sullivan tried to move forward, but his shoulders were met with the powerful grip Wilcox’s hands. Mason pulled out his Glock and pointed it straight in Thomas’s face.
“What do ya think this is?” Mason demanded.
“I…don’t know, sir.” Thomas replied.
“Move into the living room and sit your asses on the couch. You don’t speak, move, or shit without our permission, do you follow?”
“Yes.” Thomas replied. Francis nodded her head.
“Now, move!”
The scared kids got up from their huddled position inside the closet. Sullivan couldn’t bear to look the two in the eye when they walked past. Mason and Wilcox started to walk out of the bedroom, but Sullivan told them to huddle up. They did so and shook their heads at their boss.
“This doesn’t feel right.” Sullivan said.
“What doesn’t?” Wilcox asked.
“These are not members of the resistance. I guarantee you that.”
Mason moved forward. “Look, Forte is good at what he does, unlike you. Look at the old man he brought us last time. If Forte says they’re rebels, they’re rebels.”
Wilcox chimed in. “Yeah, just who are you working for, anyway?”
Sullivan’s eyes darted between the two fuckwits. “I’m just saying, my gut is telling me they are innocent.”
“Well,” Mason said. “My trigger finger’s tellin’ me that you are one of them. And these two are valuable assets to you.”
“What are you talking about?” Sullivan asked. He moved in towards his accuser.
“Let’s go question our suspects.” Wilcox said. He moved to the door. “Find out for ourselves.”
Asshole, Sullivan thought. He shook his head and followed Wilcox into the living room. Mason stayed behind and started to flip the bedroom, looking for a good spot to plant evidence, no doubt. Outside, Thomas’s eyes were filled with fear, Francis’s with tears. Sullivan holstered his weapon upon approach. The scared boy wrapped his scrawny arms around his lover. Much like Sullivan used to do with Julie.
“Stay away from her.” Thomas cried.
“Nobody is hurting anyone.” Sullivan replied. “We just need to talk like I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“Talk about what?”
Wilcox intervened. “Talk about your involvement with the terrorists you see on the news every day.”
“Do I look like a terrorist to you?” Thomas pleaded. “I couldn’t even hack it in the academy.”
“I’m thinking that’s why you joined. Hm? Prove us wrong? Is that whore you’re banging right now your payment from them?”
“Don’t you call her a whore!”
Wilcox pointed his gun at the scared woman. She screamed and Thomas moved his body on top of hers. The Agent kept the gun trained on Thomas. The Agent began to laugh at the pathetic sight in front of him. The boy’s face remained determined. He was ready to die for his girlfriend. Sullivan turned to Wilcox, whose laugh was gone, his eyes trained on the sitting ducks.
“DeMarcus, lower your weapon.” Sullivan ordered.
“Hell, no.” Wilcox answered, ready for the kill.
“I said lower your weapon. Go to the bedroom and help George, now!”
“Fine,” Wilcox replied. He lowered his weapon but did not holster it. “But, when I find something, I’ll be back for this Tommy boy bitch.”
Wilcox turned his back and avoided eye contact with his superior. Thomas’s attention now focused on Sullivan, but his body remained on top of Francis.
“I just want to talk.” Sullivan said again. He inched towards the couple.
“You stay away from her.” Thomas said.
“Just relax. Nobody is getting killed here today. Not on my watch.”
The boy kept his eyes on Sullivan. His body moved slowly away from Francis, his eyes never leaving Sullivan’s, and sat down next to his lover. The tears from the poor woman’s eyes caused her black makeup to run down her freckled cheeks. The Agent reached into his pocket for a handkerchief.
“What is this all about?” she asked, her voice shaken.
“Miss Berlovski, someone has implicated you and your boyfriend as being members of the resistance. We’re only here to check things out, so remain calm and you’ll make it out of here.”
“Be calm?” she asked. “With those two mad men in here? That black guy just now, he would’ve killed us without blinking.”
“Don’t worry about him. He knows who’s in charge.” Sullivan lied.
The loud banging noises from the bedroom, not to mention Wilcox’s manic behavior, did nothing in Sullivan’s vain attempts at calming the couple down. The gears inside his head started to go into overdrive. He didn’t want to see an innocent couple be sent to prison to await execution. They would be lucky to last that long, he knew, with Mason and Wilcox in the other room.
First things first, keep them calm. If one or both panicked right now and did something stupid, there would be no way out. They would be shot dead and left to rot on their torn furniture. The sight of that old woman’s eyes crept back into Sullivan’s mind. Not today, no innocent blood would be spilt. Get them out of here alive and worry about the rest later. Give Fitzpatrick a chance to change his mind. No matter how slim a chance that would be, it was better than the alternative.
“How long have you two been living here?” Sullivan asked.
“Almost two years.” Thomas replied over a loud thud from the bedroom. “What are they doing in there?”
“Looking for contraband. Just standard procedure.”
“If they break all my stuff in there, do I get reimbursed?”
Sullivan shook his head. “Afraid not, but your mind should be focused on getting out of here alive.”
“Okay…what are you going to do to help us?” Francis asked.
Sullivan bent down to one knee and motioned for the two to come closer. They obeyed. He kept his voice no louder than a whisper.
“I believe you.” Sullivan said.
“Then why are you here?” Thomas demanded in a low voice.
“It’s my job, I can’t disobey my orders.”
“What about those men?�
��
“They are…more determined to see you killed here today.”
Francis wanted to scream, but Sullivan placed his right index finger over his lips. She contained herself, but more tears started to flow down her cheeks. She moved in towards Thomas, placed her arms around his neck, and squeezed. The boy kept his full attention on Sullivan.
“What are you going to do about them?” he demanded.
“I’m working on that, but you two have to remain calm. Don’t give them any reason to kill you. Cooperate with us. Let us take you to the station and…”
“No way.” Thomas said, his voice grew a notch louder. “We won’t last ten seconds in there. I went to the schools, you know. I know what happens to people who are accused of such a crime.”
“You want to be shot?” Sullivan asked. He checked his voice and lowered it. “Believe me when I tell you that those two men would love nothing more than to execute you right here.”
“Found something!” Mason called from the bedroom.
“Oh, shit.” Sullivan said. He stood back up and his heart rate quadrupled.
He looked back down at Thomas and peered into his eyes. The only hope now rested with the young couple to give into reason and cooperate. He hoped that the girl would not screw this whole thing up with her screams. Sullivan looked behind to Mason who held up a letter in the air like a trophy.
“Where did you find it?” Sullivan asked.
“In the floor boards—behind the desk. Sneaky bastards.”
The smell of bullshit filled the air. Mason moved in on the young couple and Thomas resumed his position on top of Francis. Wilcox moved in with his gun trained. Sullivan moved in front of the men and held his right hand out.
“You guys put that there!” Francis screamed.
“You shut up!” Mason shouted. “We have a witness who swears you are resisters. And now we find this. Coincidence—I think not.”
“Now,” Sullivan said, “let’s just wait a minute here.”
“The time for talk is over, Sully.” Wilcox said. “Get out of the way before I kill you first.”
Sullivan held his ground. He remained in front of the two dipshits. Wilcox moved his gun from the couple to his superior. Mason grabbed him by the side with both hands and moved Sullivan out of the way. He shoved the letter in Thomas’s face. The boy’s eyes began to water for the first time, no longer capable of staying strong for his girl.
Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1) Page 10