Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1)

by Cotton, Brian

  “Afternoon, Detective,” Boler said through the open door. “You wanted to see me?”

  “That’s right, Greg.” Sullivan said, he closed the file and set it aside. “Come on in, have a seat.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Sullivan.”

  “It’s Will.”

  “Thank you, Will.” Boler replied as he sat. “How can I be of service to you?”

  “I’ll get straight to point.” Sullivan took a breath and then leaned forward. “You see that thing about the underground church on the news?”

  “Saw it this morning, just got briefed on it, too. Why?”

  Sullivan studied his subject. Boler just sat there, looked him straight in the eye, acted like everything was just natural. He didn’t look to be worried, nervous, or anything. Much different than the other Agents that Sullivan interviewed during this long, boring process. Something didn’t add up, though. Then again, maybe this guy was just good under pressure. A little too good?

  “Well,” Sullivan continued, “it appears that there were actually more than just the three men we found there. More like ten.”

  “Okay. How’d you find this out?” Boler asked.

  “We questioned the leader. He calls himself Father Francis or some bullshit. He confirmed, with me, that there were more than three.”

  “So, how did the others get away?”

  “You tell me.” Sullivan replied. He studied Boler’s eyes the whole time.

  His subject looked away for a moment, the first sign of nervousness. Sullivan kept his gaze on him, he noticed Boler’s forehead starting to show signs of perspiration. He watched as Boler reached up with is right hand to wipe away the sweat.

  “You need a tissue?” Sullivan asked.

  “No,” Boler replied. “It’s just hot in here.”

  “Feels fine to me, Agent.”

  “It’s your office, I would hope so.”

  “Let’s just stop dodging the question.” Sullivan said. “How do you think they go out?”

  “They heard the sirens coming?” Boler replied.

  Sullivan shook his head. “No way. They were long gone by the time SWAT showed up.”

  “They got help, then, right?”

  “That’s right. They got help from the resistance. At least some of them.”

  “Did this Francis give you any details at all? Any identifiable marks or anything?”

  “No, they were wearing masks. Nothing distinguishable, save the breasts of some woman.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but what does this got to do with me?” Boler asked.

  Now, we’re getting somewhere, Sullivan thought. Boler’s sweating continued, he tried to play it off like it was hot or something. Sullivan almost laughed at the thought. He kept his office at a chilly sixty-five degrees. Still, though, nothing definitive. The other Agents, after all, did the same routine. They blamed their sweating on how hot the room was or that their wives made them bad food and they felt sick. None would fess up to the fact that they were nervous, which they had every right to be. They knew what would happen if they were accused of something like aiding the resistance. Sullivan knew all too well what it was like. It made a man want to kill himself before the USR could finish the job.

  Boler kept his eye contact, though. He didn’t look away like most of the others. He swallowed a few more times than usual, too.

  “Everything,” Sullivan replied. “You’re in CA, your department knew about the church, knew the times they met, knew what day the raid would take place, everything. So, when our SWAT guys move in, and the resistance already had the room cleared out, it raises questions.”

  “Are you accusing me?” Boler asked.

  “No, not at all, just wanted to make you aware of what’s going on. Do you know of anybody we should suspect?”

  “I can’t think of anybody right off the top of my head, but I’ll sure keep my eyes open.”

  “Make sure that you do. You come to me first if you see or hear anything out there, you got that?”

  “Yeah, of course, sir.”

  “Good. Be sure to watch out for yourself, too.” Sullivan said.

  “I’m sorry, sir?”

  Sullivan rubbed at his forehead as he leaned back in his chair. “I mean, I’d hate for you to end up in the hands of a guy like Travis Forte. He works with me inside of my unit, you hear of this guy?”

  “I know the name, but that’s it, why?”

  “Well, if we find somebody, who we think might be working for them, we turn to Forte. He’s really, really good at getting answers out of people. You see, what he does is, and this is fucked up, by the way. He lines up their fingers and takes out his knife. You know what he does?”

  “What’s that sir?” Boler asked, his eyes wide and voice shaken. “He cut their fingers off?”

  “Close, but not quite, he goes after the fingernails. He digs the knife in and snaps the nail right off. We got some bastard who’s noble and won’t talk…well, let’s just say that after two or three nails, they start talking. Works every time.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? Is there anything you want to tell me?”

  “No, sir. But, my eyes and ears are open…wide open.”

  Boler stood and saluted Sullivan. Sullivan returned the gesture. He kept eye contact with his subject. Now, without a doubt, Boler knew he meant business. Sullivan sat back in his chair and breathed in a deep breath. This was the fifth Agent to see him today, the fifth different story he told about the horrors of a high ranking Agent, as well. The feeling of boredom intensified with each one. He knew it was necessary, but all he wanted was to be out of this damn office and out there, on the streets, hunting down them down. Instead, he sat in his office and was lied to by who knew how many men. Fitzpatrick and the others were convinced that there was only one rat, but for all Sullivan knew, the whole department was compromised.

  He reached down for the next file and read the name aloud before he picked up his phone.

  Twenty-Eight

  Paxton looked into Boler’s eyes and saw a look of fear he never saw before. His mole had always suffered from anxiety, but there was something different this time. Maybe the USR finally caught onto him? Nonsense, Boler probably got spooked by something that shouldn’t spook him. His face was a mess of perspiration, he kept looking around, his hands looked like they were convulsing.

  The anxiety attack started to get to Paxton, as well. When Traci placed her soft hand on his shoulder to take his order, he grabbed her skinny wrist with applied pressure. She looked down at him in shock, but didn’t say anything: she still thought he was an Agent. Once he realized who it was, his thoughts of snapping the wrist passed. He apologized before Boler mumbled his order to her. She turned with hesitation to Paxton.

  “And…for you, sir?” Traci asked.

  “The usual,” Paxton replied. “Sorry again.”

  “It’s okay, I’m sure that being an Agent is stressful.”

  Their food arrived minutes later and Boler still had said nothing to Paxton. The old veteran played around with his food. He entertained thoughts about actually eating some of it this time, but again, thought better of it. For Boler’s part, he seemed to be in a hungry mood, taking in spoonful after spoonful of his soup. Paxton placed his fork down and peered into the mole’s eyes.

  “Greg,” Paxton said, “I appreciate you coming out here and everything, but if we don’t have anything to talk about…”

  “Look, man,” Boler blurted out, “they know.”

  “What?”

  “The church you guys saved, they know someone inside CA tipped you off.”

  “How do they know that?” Paxton asked. He took a bite from his bitter salad.

  Boler started to look around, again. Paxton reached up and touched him on the shoulder which Boler promptly brushed off. For the first time, a bit of sympathy over putting the kid through this swept over. There were other times before when he would feel sorry for his rat, but never sympathy. Back when Boler f
irst agreed to this job, he was so overwhelmed with excitement about being on the inside. He must have felt like top dog amongst the resistance. Now, he was a pitiful man who wanted nothing more than to go home.

  “You said to be patient,” Boler replied. “But, I can’t wait any longer.”

  “Listen, Greg, just stay cool and you’ll make it through this.”

  “No, you listen to me, now.” Greg dropped his spoon and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’m done, all right? I asked you to get me out of this and all you said was to be patient, but I can’t do this anymore. I don’t even know why I’m meeting with you right now.”

  “I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused…”

  “Sorry? Sorry’s not going to cut it this time, they are onto me!”

  The lunch crowd inside the diner looked directly at Boler. He looked straight down and it was Paxton’s turn to grow nervous. Paxton held up his right index finger over his lips. What he wanted to do was smack Boler over the head. How stupid can one be? It would be one thing to think the USR was onto you, but a simple phone call would have been fine. Instead, the silly son of a bitch wants to meet face to face. He grabbed his cup of water, took a large gulp, and placed it back down in front of him.

  “Okay,” Paxton said in a low voice. “You want out? You’re out. We’ll figure something out, but you can’t join with us again. Not right now, anyways.”

  “What am I supposed to do, then?”

  “Pack up your things and get out of here.”

  “What? That’s it.”

  “That’s all we can do right now. You’ve been saving your credits, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Pull them out of whatever bank you have, they’re going to freeze your accounts once they realize you’ve skipped town.”

  Boler leaned forward. “Fine, that’s great, just skip town, then they’ll know for sure?”

  “You can’t stay here. You know what they would do to you?”

  “Yeah, they’d rip out my finger nails with an Army knife till I spilled my guts.”

  Paxton’s curiosity piqued. He sat up straight in his chair. “What are you saying?”

  “It was something they told me today…what I wanted to tell you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They’ve got this guy named Travis Forte. He works in the RU. Apparently, he takes his combat knife and rips out his suspect’s finger nails, one by one, until they tell him what he wants to know.”

  Those bastards, Paxton thought. The scowl on his face scared even Boler a little bit. Of all the tactics to use, this was one of them? Torture…it had its place, but it was to be reserved for the truly evil, not innocent men and women. He made a mental note of Forte’s name. He must have been a prominent Agent within the RU. Forte would have a wealth of knowledge that the team could use. Paxton turned his attention back to Boler.

  “Do they know anything, Greg?” Paxton asked.

  “No, they don’t. Not from what I was told, anyway.”

  “Who was this guy who questioned you?”

  “William Sullivan, from the RU.”

  “You got anything on this Forte guy?” Paxton wondered.

  “Sure, I looked into his file. You know they keep detailed records on all their people right?”

  “Yeah, it’s a good thing Clarke’s got you covered.”

  Boler nodded. “Right. He eats lunch at the same place every day, a place downtown called The Red Horse.”

  “The Red Horse?”

  “Yeah, that’s where he’d be most vulnerable. Take him then.” Boler said.

  “We’ll get him, what about you?”

  “I’m out of town today, as soon as my shift is over, if I can make it till then.”

  Paxton patted Boler’s shoulders again. “You’ll make it, just keep your eyes peeled and don’t act suspicious.”

  “They are going to know for sure it was me when you guys take out Forte.”

  Paxton sighed, “I know.”

  “I wish I could help you guys out more…I really do.”

  “You’ve help out enough…probably more than you should have. I’m sorry again.”

  “The best of luck to you guys. I mean that.”

  “I’m going to make this up to you, I swear to God I will.” Paxton lowered his head and rubbed at his hair. “I don’t know how, but when this is all over, look me up.”

  “When this is over?” Boler said with a hint of laugh. “How much longer do you think you can keep going like this? How do you expect to take them all out?”

  “I don’t…I don’t know, yet. But, once people become more informed…”

  “Yeah, good luck with that. The public, they hate you. Why keep going?”

  “Because…it’s the right thing to do.”

  “The right thing to do? Do you still believe that?” Boler demanded.

  “With all that is within me…yes. You don’t know what it was like before…you don’t know how much the USR has taken from you. All you know is what I’ve told you, you’ve never experienced it for yourself. If you did, then you’d know what I’m talking about.”

  “Well,” Boler stood. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am.”

  ***

  Kaspar sat on the back porch. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with his Zippo lighter. He stared off into the distance, breathed in the smoke, and wondered what to do next. The smoke escaped his mouth. He had already fired enough rounds at paper targets to the point where he no longer felt the need nor the want to. Paxton left without saying anything. Clarke sat around at his computer like always, Krys waxed her bike for the umpteenth time, and Kilbourne seemed like an asshole.

  Li, well he was a nice enough guy, but not very interesting, apart from that trippy meditation thing. The look on Mother’s face when she shook her head “no” began to wear at Kaspar’s mind. Just like her eyes the day he found her dead. The longer he thought about it, the more he came to realize that there were only two explanations for it: either she was saying it was not his time to join her or that Kaspar should forget about getting revenge for her. Could there be any other explanation?

  “I’m bored,” Krys said from behind.

  Kaspar took a drag from his cigarette and looked back. Krys smiled at him, Kaspar returned the favor. He took another drag.

  “I see you are still into killing yourself.” Krys said.

  “I see you’re still into riding my ass.” Kaspar replied.

  Krys winked, “You wish.”

  The two of them fixed their gaze into the distance without saying anything. Kaspar took several puffs on his cigarette before offering one to Krys in a smart ass gesture. She reached down, grabbed the box, and crushed it in her palm. Kaspar looked up at her in both shock and anger. She just smirked back. What did she want, anyway?

  “I was thinking about taking a ride on the bike, care to join?” she asked.

  “With the way you drive? No thanks.”

  “I was going to go to the city…”

  “What do you mean?” Kaspar wondered.

  “I don’t know…grab a drink, have a conversation, maybe kick your ass in pool…”

  “Now who’s been spending time at the wishing well?”

  “Is that a challenge, Mr. Kaspar?”

  “No so much a challenge,” Kaspar replied as he let smoke escape his mouth. “As stating the facts.”

  “You think you can back up that talk, big boy?”

  Kaspar took another drag and looked over at her. She smiled to him and winked. He could not contain the smile on his face. Smiling, something that Kaspar seemed to do more and more each day, each time he was with Krys. He thought about what she was trying to do or not to do, but after a moment, he no longer cared. What could it hurt? Maybe a little time away from this place would do his mind some good.

  “I thought going in without permission was forbidden.” Kaspar said.

  “It is. That’s why they call it ‘an adventure’.” Kry
s replied.

  Self-doubt crept in. “I…don’t know…”

  Krys’s posture and smile dropped. “Fine, you just stay here and suck on that cancer stick. It is so much more entertaining out here.”

  Krys stood and headed for the back door. Something inside of Kaspar told him to wake his stupid ass up and follow her out. He took one last drag and threw the remainder of the cigarette into the yard. He stood and called for her to wait up.

  “Get your ass ready,” Krys said when she turned. “I’m not going to wait around forever.”

  “Yes, your highness.” Kaspar replied with a bow.

  “Just get ready, smartass.”

  Kaspar ran up the stairs and into his bedroom. He switched his loose sweatpants for pair of jeans, a gray tee, and his blue jacket. He noticed Clarke eagerly typing away at his laptop computer on his way back out. Kaspar tried to say hello, but Clarke did not acknowledge him at first. Something on that screen captured his attention. Kaspar didn’t spend too much time trying to figure out what it was.

  What are you doing? Kaspar asked himself as he walked through the opened garage and approached Krys’s bike. He walked up to the bike. Krys revved the engine twice before she looked back. Someone began calling to them from behind. It was a deep voice, fucking Ron Kilbourne’s deep voice.

  “What are you two doing?” Kilbourne demanded.

  “Just taking junior over there out for a spin.” Krys replied.

  “You two just make sure you get back before Pax does.”

  “No problem, Daddy.”

  “I’m just looking out for you.” Kilbourne said.

  Krys sighed, “I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry yourself about me.”

  Kaspar looked back and nodded at Kilbourne, who acted like he wasn’t there. Kilbourne turned and walked away, back to the weight room no doubt. Kaspar ignored the apparent rudeness and approached the side of the bike. Krys held out a black helmet for him. He took it and struggled to slip it over his head. She played around with her hair a bit and then slipped her own on.

  “Sorry about that.” Krys said.

  “About what?”

  “Him, Ronnie. He treats me like I’m some kind of child or something, I don’t know. Ever since I joined up, he’s always like, ‘Krys, don’t do that’ or ‘Krys, stay away from that.’”