Rebels & Lies

by Brian Cotton

  Chapter .38

   

  Sullivan sat in the driver’s seat of his hybrid car and pulled out his pistol. He cocked the chamber back then released it. 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; 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 omething’?”

  “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. 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 cocked the hammer back then shoved the barrel to the back of King’s head.

  “You better start talking right now,” Sullivan said. He clicked the safety off. “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 cocked the hammer back. “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. On
ly a matter of time, now, the threat of jail time and death would eventually get the answers to come out. The barrel of 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.

  “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.