Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1)

by Cotton, Brian

  “Joe Young, huh?” Sullivan persisted. “You got an address?”

  “Sure,” King replied. He gave him the address.

  “I’m going to get in my car and leave.” Sullivan holstered his pistol. “You have yourself a good day.”

  “Sorry for lying to you. Joey’s one of my biggest partners.”

  “Remember who I work for the next time you think about lying to me again.”

  Sullivan walked out from behind the counter. He walked straight for the door and back to his car. Joe Young must have been at least one major supplier for the resistance. Maybe he would meet with them again. Only this time, he cared nothing for bringing them in.

  The bullets in his own gun would provide the necessary justice.

  Thirty-Nine

  Paxton opened the driver’s side door and then stepped out. Krys did the same on the passenger’s side. They both closed their doors and then walked to the back of the van. Each slung a black duffel bag over their shoulders before slamming the double doors shut. Paxton walked up to Young’s door and knocked twice. The sound waves of Daisy’s violent barks penetrated the wooden door which led to the inside.

  A few seconds later the door swung open. A half-dressed Young looked through his bloodshot eyes at Paxton then Krys. His eyes grew wide at the sight of her and he smiled. Krys shook her head. Paxton gave his dealer a judgmental look.

  “Don’t judge me, ese.” Young protested.

  “No judgment here, compadre.” Paxton replied. He held out his hand. “Score a loose?”

  “Sure thing, bro.”

  Young pulled out a pack of smokes and shook one loose. Paxton took a hold of it then put it between his lips. He pulled out his Zippo and the tobacco caught fire. After just one drag he was already coughing. When would his body finally have enough? Krys patted him on the back as he coughed several more times.

  “You should quit.” Krys suggested.

  “Oh,” Young said after catching sight of Krys bending over to help her leader. “I see you brought that ass with you today.”

  “Joey,” Krys said. She stood upright and raised her eyebrow. “How are you today?”

  “Just fine now, mami.”

  “Not today,” Paxton cut in, still short of breath. “Rough night.”

  “I’ll show her a rough night…anytime.”

  “Please…” Krys replied as she held up her middle finger.

  Young laughed hard at the gesture and then led the way inside. Daisy was already locked up in her cage where she resided for the entire day. Young wasn’t in the mood for her bullshit. The three walked past her and made their way to the basement. At the sight of Krys, Daisy wagged her tail. For months now, ever since she was introduced to drug smoking gun runner, Krys begged Paxton to let them keep the dog. Paxton hated dogs, so the answer was an obvious no and remained such.

  Once they were down in the basement, Young yanked on the swinging light above, causing the room to illuminate with light. Krys headed straight for the ammunition rack. She started to fill her bag full of preloaded magazines for the PSD.

  “Make sure,” Paxton said, not looking up from the rack of grenades. “You get plenty of ammo for the PSD’s.”

  “Already on it.”

  Paxton smiled. “Good girl.”

  ***

  Sullivan parallel parked his car behind a black van. Once out of his car he examined it. He found the USR insignia on it as well as the evidence of age all around the body. This was the van from the other night, he was sure of it. Now, he could finish the job. Old King came through after all. He fought his initial instinct to call it in. He was on suspension and didn’t want to get thrown in prison for taking the law into his own hands.

  He stood outside the chipped wooden door and took several deep breaths. He yanked his Glock from the holster and reached for the door with his free hand. This would be it. It would all end now, one way or the other. Sullivan jiggled the handle to find it locked. He cursed under his breath and then backed away from the door. Both hands were now gripped around the handle of the gun. He took a deep breath before he started to count in his head. After he got to three, he lifted his right leg and kicked at the door. The old door flew open without a fight.

  Sullivan moved in quick, but stopped on a dime when he heard the loud barks of a very big dog. He found the dog in a large cage with thick, though rusted, bars right by the front door. It continued to bark and snarl as Sullivan got closer.

  So much for the element of surprise.

  ***

  The unmistakable sound of Daisy barking startled Paxton and Krys in the basement. Who could that be? Had the USR finally gotten a beat on them? Paxton dropped his bag and moved towards Young’s desk. Young pulled out a shotgun and grabbed a box of shells.

  “Joe?” Paxton said.

  “You get out of here,” Young said. His eyes remained fixated on the gun as he loaded shells into it. “Go now. I’ll take care of that gringo upstairs.”

  “We’re not leaving you here.” Krys said.

  “I appreciate that, mami. I will fuck…I mean, thank you later.”

  “You are such a…”

  “No time for this,” Paxton barked. “Leave the bags; we’ve got to move fast. Joe?”

  “What?”

  “Good luck.”

  Young held the shotgun up to his chest. “I don’t need it.”

  The sound of the footsteps from above inched their way to the stairs. Daisy’s barking grew louder with each step. The intruder was getting close. Paxton led Krys to the double wooden doors which led up to the alleyway at the side of the building. There was no way of knowing whether or not there would be an ambush awaiting them. It was a chance they had to take…the only chance they had at escape was through those doors. Paxton gripped his Glock with both hands and then drove his shoulder into the doors. They opened up without much of a fight. Thank God Young never installed a Masterlock on the doors. The old veteran popped his head out with his gun at the ready. No sign of the feared ambush.

  Paxton kept his gun trained in front of him while he awaited Krys. Once she reached the top, she retrieved her P99 from the holster underneath her jacket. The two moved forward, their guns drawn, and their pace urgent. When they reached the end of the building, they flattened themselves against the side. Paxton moved his head over the corner with caution. There were no sirens, no Agents with machine guns blasting their way, nothing. What was going on?

  With a hand signal, he motioned for Krys to move. She drew her P99 once more and moved towards the van. Once she made it safely, Paxton made a run for it. He flung the driver’s side door open, ignited the engine, and then floored the van forward.

  “Make sure nobody follows us.” Paxton ordered.

  Krys stared at the rear view mirror. “Already on it.”

  ***

  Sullivan walked through the kitchen to a door that stood about a quarter of the way open. They must be down there, he thought. He used his left leg to move the door open the rest of the way. The hinges cried. His position was already given away, though, thanks to the dog. He pressed his back against the wooden wall to the right side of the stairs. Sullivan inched his way down, his Glock 17 gripped with both hands.

  He reached the bottom and stood still for a moment. He moved his head along the wall to get a feel for his surroundings. There was nobody down here anymore. Sullivan cursed the dog one last time. He moved his head out a little further and saw a counter with no one behind it. Nothing behind it except for the barrel of a shotgun…

  Sullivan moved quickly back behind the wall. A blast from the shotgun boomed through his eardrums while the buckshot ripped a hole in the wall. Sullivan moved up before another wave of buckshot tore through the wall again. He pointed his gun through the second hole then fired two blind shots.

  “What’s up, Motherfucker?” Young cried out.

  Young let loose another blast. The wall that once provided some cover began to shrink. Sullivan moved up a couple of steps.
He took in deep breaths to try to slow down his heart rate. He had to think fast. The shells in the shotgun wouldn’t last forever, but his target down those stairs had a full arsenal available to him. Sullivan had to think of a way out of this…

  One more blast from the shotgun tore through more of the wall. Action needed to be taken and fast. He could not allow himself to be a sitting duck for much longer. Sullivan inched himself down further and looked through the now shattered wall. As he tried to get a better look at the shooter, he saw the barrel of the gun again. The blast rang through the air. Sullivan cursed himself again. Maybe he could talk him down.

  “This is the USR! Cease fire and…” Sullivan was cut off by one final shotgun blast.

  “Fuck you!” Young cried. He pulled the shotgun down and started to reload.

  Sullivan blinked his eyes several times. He needed to make a decision and fast. He used his ears. Over the barks, he heard the sound of shells being loaded. If he was ever going to have a chance, this was it.

  The Agent ran down the rest of the stairs then made a bee line towards the gun racks in the center of the basement. Young pumped the handle and then stood with a full shotgun again. Still out in the open, Sullivan pointed his gun that direction and squeezed off two rounds. He slid the rest of the way along the slick cement. Young fired off another shell. The boom, then the clinging sound of buckshot hitting the metal guns, filled the room.

  Sullivan scanned the weaponry in front of him as another shell was fired off. He found several MP-5K’s hanging on a rack. Where did this guy get his weapons from? He kept his head low and reached up for one of the submachine guns. He pulled the magazine out to find that it was preloaded. Sullivan held the MP-5K in his left hand with the Glock in his right.

  There was another blast as Sullivan spun his back from behind the rack. Young pumped the shotgun then ducked quickly when he saw the Agent. Sullivan squeezed the trigger of the submachine gun. An automatic burst of 9MM rounds narrowly missed their target. He spun back around and scanned the weaponry once more.

  Something caught his eye on the back rack to the far right. His eyes grew wide at the sight of the grenades. Young fired again. Sullivan did a roll to the rack beside him. It took him only seconds to find what he searched for. He did not want to kill this man…not yet, anyway. He searched past the frag grenades and took hold of a flash bang. He ignored another shotgun blast and took hold of one of them. He moved back to cover.

  Sullivan counted to three in his head. At three, he pulled the pin and tossed it as hard as he could over his head. He covered his ears with his hands. He kept his eyes shut. The flash bang exploded behind the counter. The near unbearable ringing sound penetrated his hands. Young cried out from behind the counter. There would not be much time before the grenade’s effects would wear out.

  With both guns drawn, Sullivan moved towards the counter. Once behind it, he saw Young rub violently at his eyes while he writhed on the ground.

  “Freeze!” Sullivan commanded.

  He wanted to keep this man alive, but he caught a glimpse of Young reaching for something behind him. The shotgun was dropped to the ground and out of reach. Sullivan demanded that Young freeze one more time, but the gun runner didn’t listen. A round fired from the Glock. It penetrated the left shoulder. The reaching ceased.

  “The fuck you want with me, ese?” Young cried.

  “Take your gun,” Sullivan said. “And toss it over the counter. Slowly.”

  Young did as ordered. He took hold of the PPK-S from the small of his back then tossed it over the counter with his good arm. Young struggled to get himself upright. Sullivan placed the MP-5K on the counter, but kept his Glock trained on the center of his target’s head. He knelt down, took hold of the shotgun, and then tossed it over the counter.

  There was a stool beside him. Sullivan grabbed it and moved it towards Young. The gun runner picked himself up off the ground. He sat on the stool and looked right into the muzzle of the gun pointed at his head. He laughed.

  Sullivan ignored the laughter. “Can you hear me?”

  “The ringing is still pretty bad, homes.” Young replied. He put pressure on his wounded shoulder. “But, I can hear you. What’s your beef with me?”

  “It’s simple,” Sullivan replied. “You’ve been supplying weaponry to the resistance.”

  “Right to the point, I like that. But, I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Take a look at this,” Sullivan reached into his pocket. He pulled out the baggie and tossed it at Young’s lap. “Armor piercing, standard USR issue. I must know. Where do you get all these weapons from?”

  “I got my connections. But, you can’t prove a fuckin’ thing and you know it.”

  “Prove what? I’ve already got you with this small arsenal down here. I can toss this place, though, and find more, just like that. A simple death sentence is going to get a lot more painful for you, ‘homes’.”

  “You fuckin’ stupid.”

  “Supplying weapons to the resistance? That’s a whole ‘nother ball game than just selling to ordinary citizens, comprende?”

  “Don’t you try and speak broken Spanish to me, gringo!”

  “Oh,” Sullivan smirked, “did I offend my little Puerto Rican friend?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck me? It looks like you’re the one who’s fucked here.”

  “You can’t prove nothin’. You know how many arms friends I got?”

  “Let me get something straight,” Sullivan said. He moved his face closer to Young’s. “I can make it look like anything. Maybe you sold them weapons, maybe not. But, I saw a black van outside with USR insignia on it. Just like the one described at the scene of an Agent’s murder. If that’s the case, you sold those rounds to the resistance, which led to the death of a decorated Agent. I’d say you better start answering my questions right now. We can cut a deal.”

  Sullivan kept his gaze on the Puerto Rican. He could see the gun runner was contemplating something. Sullivan just hoped that Young would come out with it. Tell him where the resistance hideout was. Shit, he would settle with just descriptions of what they looked like if Young didn’t know that. Young’s eyes moved from the gun, to Sullivan, and then back.

  “Okay,” Young said. “What do you want to know?”

  “I want to know who the resistance members are.” Sullivan replied. “I want to know how I can find them.”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  Sullivan fired a warning shot next to Young’s right ear. He pointed the gun back at Young’s forehead.

  “What?” Sullivan demanded.

  “I don’t know who they are, bro. You know how many people come into my shop? How am I supposed to know?”

  “You never see anybody come through here who buys an unusual amount of guns or ammo?”

  “No, nothing unusual, you think the resistance is that stupid?” Young asked.

  Sullivan pressed on. “You better start giving me facts or make up some names real fast. I am so far from fucking with you.”

  Young bit his bottom lip. “How about…your mother?”

  Sullivan let out a sarcastic laugh which drew laughter from Young. He wanted with all his might to punch Young straight in the grill to wipe that smile from his face. His eyes never leaving Young, Sullivan pulled out his phone and started to punch in some numbers. He put the phone on speaker.

  “Donald Fitzpatrick,” a voice said.

  “Sir, its Will.”

  “William, what are you up to?”

  “My wife’s dead…” Sullivan replied. He regained his composure. “I think it was the resistance trying to get to me.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I’m in an old, trashed apartment in the alley of West Liberty. I’ve got a high priority suspect in my custody.”

  “William,” Fitzpatrick barked. “What are you trying to do?”

  “I have to find them, sir. I don’t care what the Consul says o
r does to me afterward. They killed my wife…”

  “What do need from me?”

  “Send back up units over here, ASAP. Take him in and get some answers. He says anything, I’m the first to know, right?” Sullivan asked.

  “Of course,” Fitzpatrick replied. “I’m sending backup units your way, now. Just get out of there and let us do our jobs.”

  Sullivan pressed the END button then placed the phone back in his pocket. He looked to Young, who still had that grin on his face.

  “You hear that? Backup’s on the way.”

  “So what?”

  “You really don’t know who the resistance members are do you?” Sullivan asked one final time.

  “None whatsoever.”

  “I’m not buying your bullshit, you hear me? You have one last chance. Once those black and whites roll in here it’s going to be mucho trouble for you. I won’t be able to stop them.”

  “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’. I ain’t scare of them, you, or nobody. Let them come and get me, you’ll see.”

  “Have it your way.”

  Sirens wailed over the sound of the still barking dog. Sullivan pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his belt. He slapped the cuffs on Young then led the gun runner upstairs. When they walked past the dog, Young said something to it.

  Once outside, a sea of USR Agents flooded the alleyway. When Sullivan handed Young off to the Agents on scene, Young looked back. Sullivan could not be sure with the sunlight beaming in his eyes, but he thought he saw something. It was a smile straight from Young’s lips as he was being escorted into the squad car. It was not that smug smile he had seen before. More like an ‘I beat you’ smile.

  What was going on?

  Forty

  Paxton walked into The Committee’s Chamber and saw only Pat Roberson seated at the stage. When Paxton called this emergency meeting, his expectation was that they all would be here. Krys waited outside in the lobby. Against his better judgment, Paxton drove straight here from Young’s shop once he was sure that they were not being followed. Roberson was sure to no appreciate that, either.