Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1)

by Cotton, Brian

  “Tell us who sent this to you or we’ll kill you!” Mason demanded.

  “It’s not mine. You planted that and you know it.”

  Mason balled his right fist and slugged the boy in the jaw. Thomas kept his head to the side and panted. The boy moved his fear stricken eyes to Sullivan. Get us out of here alive, the eyes said. Come through on your promise. Our lives are now in your hands.

  “They’ll talk at the station.” Sullivan said.

  “Why?” Mason replied. “So you can sweet talk the Cap into letting them walk?”

  “No, we can get a lot more done over there without you two flashing steel in their faces.”

  “You seem awful concerned for their safety.” Wilcox said. “You are one of them, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not.” Sullivan said. “And, I would advise against making such accusations in the future.”

  “You little bitch.” Wilcox fired back with the index finger of his free hand pointed. “What are you going to do about it? Blow Fitzpatrick’s wad again to get another promotion?”

  “We are taking them in. Come on, Thomas, settle your girlfriend down and…”

  “No, I’ve had enough of your charity.” Mason cut in. “Dee, do the girl first.”

  “With pleasure.” Wilcox replied.

  Mason’s monstrous hands grabbed the skinny boy’s shirt and tore him off of Francis. She started to scream without control once more. Thomas did his best to fight Mason off, but it was no use. The Agent threw him off of the couch. When he tried to get up, his face was met by Mason’s boot.

  Wilcox aimed and prepared to fire.

  “Wait.” Thomas said underneath the Agent. “Wait, wait. I’ll tell you what I know, just don’t pull that trigger.”

  Sullivan’s curiosity piqued. Mason lifted his boot off of the boy’s face. Thomas picked himself up. Maybe Sullivan had under estimated him all along. What did he have up his sleeve? The boy took a seat on the torn couch.

  “What do you know?” Mason ordered.

  “I…” Thomas searched his mind for an answer. “Don’t know much. I…only deliver messages, you know?”

  “Not good enough.” Mason said. He fired a round into the couch and aimed the gun at Thomas.

  “Oh-kay. I meet with them…once a week, today actually.”

  “Where?”

  “Down by the…”

  “Stop stuttering.” Wilcox demanded. He moved his gun and fired a round into the wall inches from Francis’s left cheek.

  Thomas’s lips quivered without control. “You’ve got guns, I’m rattled.”

  “Get un-rattled.”

  Sullivan could see the wheels turn inside of Thomas’s mind. He searched for something, anything, to get off of that couch alive. The Agent wanted to help but knew he couldn’t. It was all up to the boy to do something to buy some time. In his mind, Sullivan urged Thomas on.

  “I know one of their leaders.” Thomas said.

  Good job, buy yourself some time, that’s good.

  “Who?” Mason asked.

  “If I tell you, promise you’ll let us go.”

  “I can promise you the girl.” Mason replied. “I can’t promise you. Speak!”

  “It’s him.” Thomas said. He pointed his index finger towards Sullivan.

  The two shitheads turned to face their superior. Sullivan kept his eyes trained on Thomas. To save his own neck, the boy betrayed him. Mason moved in on him. Sullivan put his hands in the air and told them to wait a minute. The boy moved back over top of Francis who put a death grip around his neck.

  “Well,” Mason said. “Lookie what we got here.”

  Wilcox aimed his weapon at his superior. “I knew it. All this time you’ve been pussy footing around, wanting us to spare this guy or that guy. Now, we know why.”

  “Now,” Sullivan said. His eyes were wide as he held both hands in front. “Wait just a minute here. He’s lying.”

  “Prove it.”

  “You’ve got him scared shitless over there, what else is he going to do?”

  “You promised to get us out of here.” Thomas cried.

  “You shut up!” Sullivan yelled back.

  “William Sullivan,” Mason said. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to surrender your firearm and come with us. Now.”

  Heart racing now, Sullivan was forced to come up with another solution. If the two clowns in front of him bought the bullshit being sold, they would kill Sullivan in an instant. Not only that, they would go after his family for fear that they, too, were aiding the resistance. His wife would be the next to go. And, then, little Davie…

  He shook his head. Pull yourself together, get back in control.

  “That kid over there is lying to try and get out of this!” Sullivan cried.

  “Why?” Mason demanded.

  “Don’t be naïve. Didn’t the little shit, just ten seconds ago, swear that he was not a member of the resistance? You put a gun in his face and, all of a sudden, he is? Come on, you’ve been an Agent long enough.”

  “I lied…” Thomas said. “I am a member of the resistance and he is, too. I see him at all of the meetings.”

  Sullivan turned once again to Thomas. “What are you trying to gain here? What do you think is going to happen? They kill me, sure, but do you really believe that you are getting out of this alive? You’ve just signed your own death warrant.”

  “An exchange…” Thomas muttered.

  “Now, we’re talking.” Wilcox said as his eyes lit up.

  “What kind of exchange?” Mason asked.

  “I’ll leave town, right here, right now. I swear to you that I’ll cut all ties with them. I’ll take Francis with me and go. He’s one of their leaders and…”

  “Choose your next words wisely, boy…” Sullivan said.

  “You can take him. Just let us go.”

  Mason turned back over to his superior and shrugged his shoulders. Sullivan’s mind ran a marathon, he tried to help the boy out, but the boy’s own ignorance doomed him. The cold truth was that Mason and Wilcox were going to kill the couple anyway. The boy didn’t know who he was trying to bargain with. But, Sullivan knew, all too well.

  “I don’t buy it.” Mason said. He turned his attention back to Thomas. “Not Sully over here, his nut sack ain’t big enough for something like that.”

  “He plans out the operations…I’m telling you the truth. Just let me go.”

  “George,” Wilcox said, “I think he’s telling the truth. Let’s do Sully in, let them go. They are insignificant anyway.”

  “Dee’s right.” Mason said, his gun moved to Sullivan. “As always.”

  A decision needed to be made and fast. The boy already made his and Sullivan knew the score. The USR, so desperate to find the members—leaders—of the resistance that the mere mention of being a part of it put one on the fast track to public execution. It was just like Fitzpatrick said. Sullivan cursed himself and his conscience. He peered into the boy’s scared eyes, Francis was out of view behind him.

  Wilcox moved in and reached for the gun attached to Sullivan’s belt. Mason with his gun trained to his superior’s head with a clean shot if any swift movements were attempted. The sight of the couple huddled together on the couch brought back good memories of when he and Julie were on good terms. He thought about how they used to hold each other, just like that, all night long…that settled it. He could not put his family through that, even though his wife hated him right now, there was still a chance…

  A strong pair of hands gripped the gun in the holster.

  “You want me to prove my innocence?” Sullivan asked.

  “What?” Mason demanded.

  “We all know this guy is full of shit and you are going to kill him anyway.”

  Mason pressed. “How are you going to prove your innocence?”

  “Put that gun down and I’ll show you.”

  “I won’t put the gun away until you prove something to me. Do what you gotta do. Dee,
let him be.”

  Wilcox released his grip on the weapon then took a few steps back. Sullivan kept his stare into Thomas’s tear filled eyes. There were only two options, as he saw it. He could turn and put a bullet in Mason’s head, but then there was the other one who also had a gun. No time to do both of them in, and the young couple on the couch would be killed, anyway. Mason preserved his clean shot on Sullivan and started to breath heavy. Sullivan didn’t want to kill the boy, but there really was no other option.

  He betrayed me, Sullivan thought, and now I have to betray him. Davie, forgive me.

  “You promised…” Francis whispered from underneath Thomas.

  No reply, he gripped the Glock 17 from the holster and lined up the sight right between the boy’s terrified eyes. Thomas pushed his girlfriend away, but she came back to him. Another push and this time Wilcox took hold of her arm as she screamed for help which wouldn’t come.

  Sullivan ignored it all and Thomas kept his mouth shut for once. One deep breath and a squeeze of the trigger. The cap of the bullet flew through the air. The bullet penetrated through the front of the boy’s skull and created a chunky, crimson mess behind him. Wilcox let the girl go and she climbed on top of her former lover. She opened her mouth to scream and it took two seconds for her to muster the strength to do so.

  “Congratulations,” Mason said. He holstered his gun and clapped his hands.

  “What are you talking about?” Sullivan demanded.

  “You passed the test. We didn’t buy that kid’s story for a second. We just wanted to test you, see if you had the balls to go through with it.”

  “You bastards…”

  “He was going to die, anyway.” Wilcox said. “And, hey, you just proved in some sense you are not one of them.”

  “Go to hell, the both of you.”

  “You killed Thomas!” Francis cried. “You promised to get us out of here and you killed him, you monster!”

  Wilcox grabbed the woman’s skinny arm and threw her off of the couch. Her body hit the matted carpet and she was ordered to clean herself up. They were taking her in; there would be no point in Sullivan trying to convince Fitzpatrick, now. She would die in the gas chamber, no doubt about that.

  Sullivan stared at the boy’s dead eyes. He could not move nor could he think straight, he just stared and the guilt came faster than he thought it would. Mason’s hand on his shoulder did not register. What had he done? More innocent blood was shed today and he was the culprit. All so he could save his own skin. Was Julie’s life worth more than Thomas’s? Was little Davie’s? He cursed Mason and Wilcox in his mind as he stormed out of the apartment. His heart sank at the three popping sounds from inside.

  The Agent tried to avoid as much contact as possible with the petrified tenants who started to flood the hallway. The blood of the innocents had to be put to an end. He was forced to pull the trigger, but not just because of the boy’s betrayal. It was also because of them. Did the resistance not understand that? If they didn’t, he would make sure that they did. A new determination burned inside.

  He would find them. He would kill them all.

  Eighteen

  Paxton allowed the double doors behind him to shut. The vastness of the large room caused a small echo as they did. In front were rows of wooden chairs with a stage at the far back. On top of the stage rested a large oak desk, its surface with a fresh shine from the multiple wax jobs it received on a daily basis. At the back of the stage stood a large American flag with its pole inside a pure gold flag post. The Committee members started to file in behind the desk.

  The Committee said nothing to Paxton while he walked down the aisle formed by the chairs. He walked to the podium that stood in front of the stage. He moved his eyes down the desk at each of the members. They all wore the same attire: black suits with white shirts and black ties. All of them except for the decorated general who sat at the far left end of the desk. He still showed off his former Army uniform with all the medals which included the Congressional Medal of Honor.

  Pat Roberson, a former Senate member from Mississippi, sat at the center of the table. He served as The Committee’s leader. On the far right side sat Gregory O’Leary, former Congressman from Boston. Nicholas Olyphant sat next to Roberson on his right side. Before the USR, he was a rising Senator from New York who almost made a presidential run. A natural politician, he used his charm and charisma to win over voters, but ultimately lost in his bid for the White House. Billy Hayes sat next to Roberson at the left. Hayes, the youngest member, was picked up by The Committee at a young age where they raised him and schooled him on the American way. He was well on his way to becoming a true leader within the rebellion. General Hank Blackman sat next to him. Blackman was the only one that Paxton respected and he trusted him whole heartedly.

  Paxton approached the podium and cleared his throat. He watched as Roberson peered at him through those gold rimmed glasses and clear lenses. The nervousness grew inside. It was never a good thing when he stood in front of his superiors and not one of them greeted him.

  “Mr. Paxton,” Roberson said. “How is the old chum today? We weren’t expecting you back here so soon.”

  “I’ve gotta new recruit. Wanted to run him by you fellas today.” Paxton replied.

  “A new recruit? John, why are we only hearing of this now?”

  “I apologize that it’s short notice. But, Danny vouches for him. He trained him in the boxing ring for months.”

  “You’ve gone through the normal procedures, then?”

  Paxton cleared his throat. “Not exactly, sir. But, Danny vouches for him.”

  “That’s not good enough, soldier.” General Blackman said.

  “General, sir, with all due respect, we just lost a man, right? We’re shorthanded and this guy just fell into our laps.”

  “Just fell,” Hayes joked. “Like an angel from heaven?”

  “Something like that.” Paxton replied, not finding the humor.

  Roberson cut in. “So, you haven’t run the proper background checks on him? You haven’t made sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he isn’t a USR sleeper?”

  “Not necessarily.” Paxton replied.

  “What do you mean, not necessarily?” Blackman demanded.

  “I mean to say that I have reasonable suspicions that he is not a sleeper.”

  Olyphant’s turn, “I don’t like it. Guy just pops in out of the gray and you just up and offer him a job? Up and bring him here? You’ve already gotten one man killed in recent weeks and now this? You are getting reckless.”

  The burning sensation in Paxton’s cheek told him his face turned red in anger. He didn’t know this Olyphant character very well, but what he saw of him, said that Olyphant was a prick no matter the fake character he presented himself as a politician. The guy was a peace loving fanatic and, as such, didn’t respect the sacrifices that Paxton and his team made every day and night. The sacrifice that Zach made. Damn politicians.

  “Let me explain.” Paxton said.

  “This had better be good,” Roberson said. He looked down at his gold Rolex. “You know how valuable our time is, especially now.”

  “Danny went through the normal recruitment routine with this Ryan Kaspar. Ryan fought many fights and never lost one. He had this fight with Razor, got DQ’d and it looks like he will never fight again. Cost the bookies too much cash.”

  “And this,” Olyphant again, “helps his cause how?”

  “Shut up for five minutes and let me tell you.”

  “That’s enough!” Roberson ordered. He slammed his fist into the table. “You will speak to us with respect, Mr. Paxton.”

  “Yes, sir, my apologies.” Paxton said.

  “Now, please, go on.”

  “He found his mother dead on her couch. Danny arranged a meeting, everything checks out on his end. From what I could tell, this was no set up. He’s genuinely angry and wants to see an end to the senseless killings.”

  “So,” Roberson
said, “you’re sure this isn’t a case of you being desperate.”

  “I’ve still got good men. But, you of all people should know, we are always operating under some degree of desperation.”

  Olyphant shook his head before he opened the hole in his mouth again. “I must admit that you have become so reckless that we should be in discussion about your future with us. You lose a man, that’s fine. I can understand your situation there. But, you’ve also caused a media circus with your charades, not to mention the USR sending more and more of their Agents out there every day. And, now, you bring this…bastard in here who you admit to knowing little about all because that wiseass Danny says he’s clean? I say, the answer is no.”

  “What the hell would you know about what we do?” Paxton demanded.

  “I would say I know a lot.”

  “You don’t know shit. You sit here all day behind that desk of yours while my men and I are out there, bleeding and dying. All you know how to do is talk and, quite frankly, I’m tired of hearing it.”

  Olyphant aimed his index finger at Paxton. “You little son of a bitch.”

  “Come on, let’s go. One on one, right now, maybe your balls will finally drop.”

  “Enough!” Roberson cried. “Bring the little bastard in here. Let’s see what he’s like before we make any rash judgments. But, I will warn you, if this turns around to bite us in the ass, you’re through, Mr. Paxton.”

  “Understood,” Paxton replied.

  ***

  Kaspar sat on the old wooden chair and wiggled his now numb ass around. The nervous energy remained, but the intensity of it dropped somewhat. This reminded him of the times when he would wait outside the principal’s office for beating up some punk kid who talked shit in the school yard. He remembered how his mother would have to leave work to talk with the principal. Growing up, his mother needed every job she had, and even lost a job once because of him.