Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1)

by Cotton, Brian

  “Of course I do, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s your wife…”

  Thirty-Seven

  Sullivan walked into the waiting room and scanned it with his eyes. He caught a glimpse of Davie seated next to his Aunt Mary. Upon approach, Mary said nothing. She just looked down at the ground like there was no hope for her sister. When Davie saw his father, the confused little boy’s eyes lit up. He hopped off the chair and he embraced Sullivan with a hug around the neck.

  “What’s going on, Mary?” Sullivan demanded. He moved Davie away from him and back into the chair.

  “She…had another spell.” Mary replied. “She called me over and when I got there, she was passed out on the floor, so I brought her here.”

  “Let me get this straight. You found her passed out?”

  “Yes,” Mary replied.

  “Shit, why won’t she ever listen to me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s refused to let me bring her to the hospital.”

  Sullivan took a seat and placed his head into his palms. He brushed back his hair with both hands and tried to calm down. His mind raced for an explanation. What could it be? Something she ate? When he could no longer take asking himself why, he stood up and walked over to the receptionist’s desk. He demanded answers from her, but she told him they knew nothing right now. As soon as they did, they would call him back. Feeling a sense of defeat, Sullivan turned and walked back over to the chair to sit down. He was met by another bear hug from Davie.

  “Is mommy okay?” Davie asked.

  “I’m sure she is, son.” Sullivan replied. “She’s just a little sick and they are trying to figure out the cause, that’s all.”

  Sullivan leaned back and his right leg began to shake involuntarily. With his arms folded across his chest he tried once again to get calm. What were they doing back there? Did it really take this long to investigate something as simple as a stomach virus? That was what scared him the most: the sheer amount of time they took back there with no answers.

  Doctor Rodgers moved into the waiting room. Once Sullivan saw him, he sprang out of his chair and rushed the doctor. To bystanders it must have looked like he was trying to mug the rich doctor. Rodgers kept his cool and calmly extended his right hand towards Sullivan. The Agent didn’t embrace it. Rodgers led the way back to a secluded hallway.

  “How is she, Doc?” Sullivan demanded.

  “I’ll be honest,” Rodgers replied. “It’s not looking good.”

  “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

  “Did you know about her vomiting spells?”

  “Of course, I’ve been insisting that she come see you, but she’s refused.”

  “Well, there’s something going on inside of her, but I have no idea what it is.”

  “It’s not just a simple stomach virus?” Sullivan asked.

  “It’s…something I’ve never seen before. From the looks of it, though, it’s some kind of poison.”

  “Poison? Are you serious?”

  “Yes, but like I said, I can’t make out exactly what it is.”

  Sullivan stared at his doctor. No expression to be found, no sadness or anger, it just hadn’t sunk in, yet. There was one thing that bothered him about the whole ordeal. With all the advancements in medicine over the past decade, he grew shocked that there could even be a poison out there one could consider new.

  “What’s your prognosis?” Sullivan wondered, not wanting to hear the answer.

  “She’s slipped into a coma,” Rodgers replied. “She’s on life support right now, that’s the only thing keeping her alive.”

  “Is she going to die?”

  “I’m afraid that the agent inside of her has eaten away her intestines and moved into the bloodstream. We can’t stop it.”

  “Doc,” Sullivan pleaded. “Be real with me, please.”

  “Yes, she is going to. We can only keep her on life support for so long. I wish we could keep her plugged in longer so I can identify the agent, but I’d lose my license and probably be imprisoned if we kept her hooked up any longer.”

  Sullivan could now feel warm tears trickle down his cheeks. He took a step back from the doctor then kept himself from falling over. After clearing his throat, he pushed Rodgers out of the way. He opened the door to see Julie, unconscious with tubes that ran inside her nose, an IV injected into her right arm. He moved in and touched her forehead. It was so cold. Why was she so cold?

  He sat down on a chair next to the bed. The tears had stopped, sooner than Sullivan thought they would. The memories of the good times had all but faded. All that entered his memory were the rough times of the past few months. He would never know if another job opened up if things would have gotten better between them. Suddenly, he began apologizing for not listening. Sullivan should have left the Department.

  Why did he take that promotion when it came along? So that he could move his wife and kid into a fancy house? So he could send his son to the best schools in the city? All of a sudden, none of that materialism mattered any longer. His promotion within the department got him all that, but it also caused his wife to grow distant. She never said it, but Sullivan always wondered if she had grown to hate being married to him…that she grew to him not just as a husband but a person. There would be no way of knowing anymore.

  Now, Julie was on the brink of death, a vegetable unable to hear the words “I love you”, so they never came out. Sullivan stood and kissed his wife one last time on the forehead.

  “You rest in peace, now.” Sullivan said before his exit.

  “It’s your decision, at least for right now.” Rodgers’s voice said once the door opened.

  “What is?” Sullivan demanded.

  “You can make the decision to pull the plug now, before regulations force our hand. At least, it can be yours to make…”

  Sullivan became overcome with grief at what the doctor just told him. It’s your decision. His decision to what, kill his own wife? He turned and walked down the hallway. Without turning to face him, he told the doctor to do it. Sullivan could not bear to be in the same room when they did it. The sight of his unconscious wife gasp for her last breaths that wouldn’t come did not interest him. Right now, he had a very disappointed little boy to console.

  When he reemerged in the waiting room, his facial expressions gave everything away. Mary looked into her brother in law’s eyes for a moment and then quickly looked away. Overcome with grief, she began to weep. Sullivan walked over to his son. He stood and stared at him for a moment. Davie looked back with confusion in his eyes. Little Davie, he was such a great kid. Julie sure had raised him well…

  Sullivan slumped down in the chair next to his son. No words were spoken at first. There really wasn’t much that could be said to make the situation any better. Instead, his mind began to race. He thought about what Rodgers told him. That his wife had been…poisoned?

  The resistance! Of course it was them. This kind of thing would be right up their alley. They must have known that Sullivan was getting closer to them. Shit, he had one of their operatives damn near arrested just last night. They must have tried to poison him. Julie was an accident…it all made sense. Look at what they did to Forte. The resistance tortured him before they shot the poor bastard dead in cold blood. They obviously had no issues with murdering Agents.

  “Is mommy okay?” Davie asked, breaking up Sullivan’s thoughts.

  “Son,” Sullivan searched for the right words. “Mommy is very sick.”

  Davie’s eyes started to water. “How sick?”

  “She fell asleep…the doctors…they can’t get her to wake up again.”

  The sound of Mary crying out caused Sullivan to jump. He then let his own tears flow free again. This time he didn’t try to fight them back. Little Davie started to cry as well. Sullivan pulled his son’s head close to his chest and let the boy cry. He reached up and pulled Mary in, too. He wrapped his arms tight around her with his right arm and held Davie
close with his left.

  “I can get her to wake up, Daddy!” Davie cried. He forced his way from his father’s chest. “She always wakes up when I sing to her in the morning. Just let me back there!”

  Davie started to hop off of his lap before Sullivan’s strong hand clamped to Davie’s arm. The boy looked to his father and tried to wrestle himself free with no success. The sight caused Mary to cry harder. Sullivan pulled the boy up with all of his strength. Davie wrapped his arms around Sullivan’s neck and squeezed.

  “You can’t wake her up,” Sullivan said. “No matter how hard you try…she’s gone, son.”

  Sullivan rubbed at Davie’s hair while he contemplated his next move. He still had that armor piercing, USR issued round with him having not turned it over, yet. He would have to go and talk to Billy King. King was an old informant who ran an underground gun shop. He would have to know something.

  He moved his son away from him. Davie sat down on the chair, his eyes pointed straight down to the white tile floor. Sullivan stood and hugged Mary. He whispered something in her ear. She nodded her head in acknowledgment. Sullivan patted his son on the back before he walked towards the exit.

  “Where’re you going, daddy?” Davie asked.

  “Daddy’s got to go back to work,” Sullivan lied. “You just stay here with your Aunt. I’ll be home soon.”

  “Just stay here, daddy!”

  “Davie, there are things that need to get done. I’ll be home soon, just stay with your Aunt, she’ll take care of you, okay?”

  “Okay,” Davie replied, his head back down. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, son.”

  Thirty-Eight

  Sullivan sat in the driver’s seat of his hybrid car and pulled out his pistol. He chambered a round and then released the slide. After a deep breath he secured the Glock 17 back into the shoulder holster. Through the windshield he could see Billy King’s place, a little run down shop in the bad part of town. Sullivan couldn’t place the last time he came to visit the horny son of a bitch. Even though he never got any good leads from the gun dealer, Sullivan knew he needed him. King ought to consider himself lucky that he was allowed to run free for so long. That would all change today.

  The bright sun stung at his eyes, which forced a squint. A little bell rang from above at the opening of the door. Inside, all was quiet. No shoppers and no sign of King. It was a small store, which specialized, on the surface, in small household goods. The bastard also ripped off who knew how many customer’s with those glass jewels he sold. It was a good cover, good enough anyway, for what really went on in the basement.

  The front counter was made of glass with fake jewelry inside. Sullivan walked behind it towards the office in the back. There was a strange sound coming from inside the locked door. It was...a moaning sound from a woman who just reached her climax. An ear pressed against the door confirmed it. It was a woman crying out in pleasure. King was still the dog he always was and would be. Sullivan knew where the majority of the money King made dealing fake jewelry and guns went to.

  With a balled fist, Sullivan slammed hard on the door. The moaning never paused. King’s shouts of hold the fuck on forced Sullivan to back away. A brief entertainment of shooting the door handle off was pushed aside. Might as well let the man enjoy himself as it could be the last time. Sullivan decided to be patient. The answers would come as soon as King did.

  Moments later, the door swung open, and out walked a skinny brunette. She had the look of a woman who just slid out of bed. Strands of hair pointed in all directions, her thick red lipstick was smeared all over her face, too. The plaid miniskirt she wore showed off her ass cheeks from behind and did little justice for her skinny legs. She worked on her black blouse as she walked by. The hooker buttoned it up halfway then worked on pushing up her breasts. She turned.

  “Hey, babe,” she said. “Want some love?”

  “Sorry,” Sullivan replied. “But, no.”

  “What’s the matter, you married or something’?”

  “I…was.”

  “I’ll bet you I’m better than she ever was.”

  The brunette pressed her body up against Sullivan’s. He tried to back away, but she grabbed a hold of his belt and squeezed. A fire had been lit inside, but there was no time for this. Julie wouldn’t approve anyway…

  Sullivan felt an ache in his heart. “I doubt that.”

  “Come on, just for fun.” The brunette said with a giggle. “If you’re good, I might even give you a discount.”

  “Don’t waste your money,” King said. He tucked in his polo shirt over his pot belly then worked on the zipper of his blue jeans. “Don’t bother my customers. Just get the fuck out!”

  The brunette looked at King’s bearded face and her bottom lip dropped. Right when it looked like she would start to cry, she turned her body and marched towards the front door. For a moment, Sullivan felt sorry for the girl. She had just been intimate, shared her body, with a man who didn’t give a rat’s ass about her. At the end of the day, she was still just a whore that the jobless rates and high taxes forced her to become.

  King used a brown paper towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. Sullivan turned his attention his former snitch. The smell from the small office crept out and the entire store now smelled like sex; a smell which had become foreign to Sullivan. His fist slammed down on the glass counter. King began to look nervous, which was a good thing for the Agent.

  “Goddamn,” King said. “I love when ‘dem bitches wear miniskirts.”

  “I’ll bet you do.” Sullivan replied.

  “What’s up, Will? It’s unlike you to come bargin’ in here unannounced.”

  Sullivan reached into his pocket to retrieve a small plastic bag. He held it up for King to see. It contained the bloodied round which ended Forte’s life. The round made a pinging sound when it hit the glass counter. King looked wide eyed down at it.

  “Where’d you get that from?” he asked.

  “You tell me.” Sullivan demanded.

  King picked up the baggie and inspected the bullet. His bottom lip underneath a pair of stained front teeth. He pulled out a small magnifying glass to get a closer look.

  “Armor piercing 9MM,” King finally said. “Looks like the kind only you guys should have.”

  “Let me refresh your memory, Billy.” Sullivan moved in closer. The smell of body odor attacked his senses. “You know the laws. Only USR personnel and the military are permitted to carry firearms. Never citizens. You break these laws everyday with your…business. Not to mention illegal prostitution.”

  “What’s this about?”

  “To go back to your first question, I found this round inside of a wall…it went straight through a decorated Agent’s brain.” Sullivan replied. He breathed in and regretted it. “What this is about is you telling me who has access to USR issued rounds.”

  The wheels began to turn in King’s head. Sullivan stared right through him without even a blink. All the while the Agent just hoped that King would come out with it…before things started to get messy unnecessarily.

  King took a step back. “I don’t like what you’re implying here.”

  “Nobody cares what you think. An Agent is dead. You know how serious my boys over at the Department take that sort of thing? We have reason to believe that the resistance is behind that shooting. If you provided them weapons…”

  “Hey! We have a partnership, you and I.”

  “The sole purpose of that is for you to provide me with information.”

  “I don’t like this. You haven’t been in to see me for months. Now, all of a sudden, you barge in here and throw out accusations?”

  Sullivan took a step forward. “Do you sell USR issued, armor piercing rounds?”

  “No.”

  “Then who does?” Sullivan asked. “You must know something.”

  “Haven’t a clue.”

  Sullivan smirked. He could feel his face redden and his body began to tremble in
anger. There was no time for King’s bullshit, especially not today. Back when the two had a working relationship, King would tell all about the other dealers in the city. Bragged about how he would crush their businesses, with his being the only one open one day. He was lying right now, Sullivan was sure of it. King was protecting a high quality associate. It usually didn’t take much coaxing to get the coward to spill his guts. Something was off…

  “Haven’t a clue?” Sullivan mocked.

  “That’s right.”

  A smile crept onto Sullivan’s face and his informant relaxed for a moment. In that instant, Sullivan grabbed a chunk of King’s damp hair then slammed his head into the glass counter, cracking it. He kept his grip on the hair and pressed King’s face into the glass. The informant gasped and breathed heavy through his nose. With his free hand, Sullivan retrieved his Glock. He shoved the end to the back of King’s head.

  “You better start talking right now,” Sullivan demanded. “Or else Bubba down at the jail house is going to dress you up in a skirt and make you his bitch.”

  “Shit, man, let me go.” King mumbled.

  Sullivan pressed the gun harder to the back of King’s skull. “Or, maybe I should just kill you myself.”

  “Come on, Will, let’s talk this out.”

  “We can start with you. You’re withholding vital Intel from an Agent. You know what would happen if I blew your head off right now? I’d get a pat on the back and a pay increase.”

  “Why would I lie?! You’ve got a gun to my head…”

  “And my trigger finger itches.”

  When King tried to wiggle his head free, Sullivan’s strong left forearm dug into the back of his neck. Only a matter of time now. The threat of jail time and death would eventually get the answers to come out. The gun was pressed harder.

  “Okay, okay, okay.” King said with a shaky voice. “I’ll tell you what I know. Just…ease off.”

  Sullivan held his ground. “Convince me.”

  “There’s this Puerto Rican guy…calls himself Joe Young.”

  Sullivan eased off and backed away. He kept his gun trained at King. The informant turned then wiped the blood from his top lip.