Patriots & Tyrants (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 2)

by Cotton, Brian

  “Yes, I am, Susan.” Sullivan replied. He handed over his current Glock after unbuckling it from his belt holster.

  “What’s wrong with this one?”

  Nothing, Sullivan thought, but that would be the truth. The truth was something that he would have to evade for the time being. Hell, he felt like he had never embraced any kind of truth in his entire adult life in any case.

  “Keeps jamming on me.” he replied.

  Susan took the gun and gave it a quick inspection. She typed in the serial number and waited for Sullivan’s mug shot to show up on the computer screen. When it did, she got up from her chair and walked over to a locker in the far end of the office. She pulled out a key and, once the locker door was open, she placed the gun inside, along with all the other malfunctioning ones. As she did, Sullivan admired her back side and the way she walked. He felt something in his chest. When she returned, Sullivan handed her the new gun and, again, she typed in the serial number and attached the gun to his profile. When all was done, she handed the gun back to him.

  “You have a nice day, Detective.” Susan said.

  “You, too.” Sullivan replied.

  He felt an instant attraction to the young woman. She had a mature, yet youthful look to her. Sullivan found himself staring into her round, light blue eyes. He then noticed the light from above glistening off of her pink lip gloss. Her supple lips tempted the Agent into climbing over the counter in order to press his lips against hers. There was just something about this receptionist that caused that something in his chest to go ablaze.

  It had been so long since he felt anything for a member of the opposite sex. The fact that Julie already hated him when she died made the whole grieving process a lot easier. Who knew, maybe a night on the town with a pretty girl would be good for him.

  Sullivan leaned over the counter and raised an eyebrow. He tried that look that got Julie’s attention all those years ago.

  “What time’s your shift over?” he wondered.

  “Not interested.” Susan replied.

  Sullivan’s heart sank. He had never really experienced an instant rejection from a woman. There was no quick, witty response that came to his mind. It seemed like it would be just another night of apologizing to his son and getting bitched at by his former sister in law.

  Maybe next time…

  ***

  Next up on Sullivan’s agenda was a meeting with Fitzpatrick. The Captain wanted a detailed report of what Sullivan and Little discovered in their investigation so far. The Agent knew that he didn’t have much to go on. His mission now was to just try and buy some time. Time, Sullivan knew, was not something that was easy to obtain when working for the USR. They wanted results that they could take to the propaganda machines.

  It took a couple of knocks before he heard Fitzpatrick’s voice inviting him in. Once it did, he opened the door, and then waited for permission to have a seat in front of his superior’s desk. Fitzpatrick leaned back in his expensive chair and rubbed at the beaded sweat on his temple. He reached down for the “medicine” in the bottom drawer of his desk. After taking a swig of the smuggled whiskey, letting the burning sensation do its work down his throat, he put the bottle away then faced his one-time top Agent.

  “You better have some good news.” the Captain said.

  “I’m afraid that there’s not much to tell.” Sullivan replied.

  “And, may I ask, why?”

  “These boys are cunning. They have set up a very good way of communicating secretly with one another.”

  “Which is?”

  “Poker. They are passing along messages to each other through poker. Most likely the cards have different meanings. It could even be how they talk shit to each other, I’m not entirely sure…”

  Fitzpatrick cut him off by holding his hand up. “You know what I was just doing?”

  “No, sir, I don’t.”

  “Let me enlighten you, then. I was just on the phone with the Consul, and he was none too pleased with our current lack of progress, as he called it. You saw the news, right?”

  “Yeah, another compound got hit, right?”

  Fitzpatrick nodded his head. “That’s right. And, now, you come in and tell me that you’ve got basically nothing?”

  The market for time just went down the tubes. Sullivan knew he would have to really make his case. He remained quiet for a moment as he tried to think of how he could buy just another couple of nights, but he knew he may have just tonight to try and get something definitive, which he would not, but he had to make it seem that way to his boss. He breathed in deep before responding.

  “I know that we’ve got very little so far,” Sullivan said. “But, you know as much as I do that these things can take time.”

  “Time is a luxury we don’t have.”

  “I understand that. I mean, shit, you act like I’m a rookie who doesn’t know these things.”

  Fitzpatrick pointed his index finger. “Ever since your wife died, you’ve been acting like one. You’re head isn’t in the game any longer. The big boys upstairs seem to think that I need to replace you.”

  “Listen to me,” Sullivan said, trying to muster up any kind of emotion about Julie’s death. “Losing Julie was hard on me and my kid. I’ve tried not to let it affect my performance, but it just happened not too long ago.”

  “Well, not to be harsh, but you need to get over it if you want to stay in your current position.”

  This was good, Sullivan thought to himself. The harsh tone of Fitzpatrick didn’t faze him in the least. And, he had put up a good enough act to where, apparently, the higher ups didn’t realize what his true motivations for staying in the department were. Still, he had to keep the act going.

  “Don’t tell me just to get over it,” Sullivan replied. “I’m trying to be as good of an Agent as I can. My son is living with Julie’s sister. I don’t even see the kid but maybe a few minutes each night. I’m putting my time in. It’s just going to be a while before I fully get over it. How dare you question my work ethic?”

  “Nobody’s questioning your work ethic. We all know that you’re a good Agent, but we’ve got this resistance running rampant all across the country…”

  “But, not in this city, right? Ever since we bagged that one leftover on TV, there’s been little in the way of terrorist attacks here.”

  “You going to take credit for that? Really?”

  “No, I’m not taking credit for the USR’s work. What I’m saying is that if my job performance, in terms of how many resistance members I’ve arrested, is in question, you can just look to that.”

  Fitzpatrick sighed. “That execution you brought up was a huge blow to them. We know they’re still around, watch the damn news, we just have to find them. Maybe finding out where they are hiding is not your expertise.”

  Sullivan shook his head and let out a chuckle. The Captain didn’t see the humor in the situation and waved around his hand in front of him.

  “This is a new kind of war, now,” Sullivan finally said. “It’s going to take some time to adjust to it.”

  “There you go with time again!” Fitzpatrick cried. “I wish I could be like you and just tell the Consul we need time. He doesn’t give a shit how the battle front has changed! He wants results!”

  Sullivan leaned forward and put his hand up. “I understand that, but if the Consul wants good results, and not results just to get them, he’s going to want us to do our jobs and investigate. Making sure we’ve got some bonafide resistance members in our grasp, not just some punks who are mad at the way things are.”

  “I’m pulling the plug on your operation.”

  “What?” Sullivan demanded in shock.

  “You heard what I said. I’m sending men into that little warehouse tonight to send those boys to hell. Hopefully, we can bring one in to spill his guts.”

  “That’s a mistake,” Sullivan said as he rose from his chair. “We don’t know anything, yet. We don’t know who they are, what
they are doing, anything.”

  “And, this helps your case, how?”

  Sullivan placed his hands on his hips. “Just give me a few more days. If I don’t have anything worthy of the Consul, then send the boys in and fuck this whole thing up all you want. Just a few days, that’s all I ask.”

  Fitzpatrick thought about it a moment. “You’ve got three days. In three days, I’m sending in the assault teams and firing you, you understand me?”

  “You’ve made yourself perfectly clear.”

  .19

  The light mist outside sprinkled its way down and tapped at the top of the fatigue colored tent. Harvey and his squad had braved the mist as they held their brief memorial service for Steinner. The rebel leader felt somewhat bad about how short the proceeding ended up being. In a perfect world, they could hold an entire day’s worth of ceremonies for their fallen comrades. This wasn’t a perfect world, though, especially with a fascist regime like the USR running things. That made the resolve to pick themselves up and get moving to the next task that much stronger. He knew Steinner would say the same thing.

  They were all huddled together in the main tent. The screen behind Harvey already had the American flag emblem emblazed in the background. He allowed his team to talk amongst themselves for a while. Harvey kept trying to hide it, but his interest in the room right now was in Kaspar and Krys. He tried to read them to see if Kaspar spilled the beans about the cure possibly being found. There was nothing revealed in either of their facial expressions. Perhaps he had underestimated his young soldier after all.

  Kaspar just kept rubbing on Krys’s shoulders. The poor woman looked out of it again. Inside his head, Harvey wanted to cure her. But, just like with the debate he had with Kaspar the night before, he knew that it wasn’t all about her. Harvey also knew that Krys understood that.

  The time for chit chat was now over. Harvey cleared his throat to get his unit’s attention. They all stopped talking at once and turned their attention to their leader. Harvey looked around the room for a moment then with a nod of his head, the American flag was erased from the screen, replaced by a real time, satellite image of a USR compound in the mountains. He allowed the team to get a good look at the image before proceeding.

  “This is our next target,” Harvey announced. He noticed in the back Kaspar stopped rubbing on Krys and leaned forward with great interest. “It’s a compound somewhere in the Rocky Mountains. We are still gathering data on it as we speak.”

  “What’s up there?” Dexter, who was seated all by himself to the left, asked.

  “What I’m about to tell you should be treated with the upmost,” Harvey paused and looked at Kaspar, “secrecy.”

  Kaspar said nothing in return. He didn’t say anything to Krys last night about it, not wanting to upset her, but he hadn’t revealed that to Harvey, yet. He simply remained in his forward posture and waited for Harvey to continue.

  “There might be something of extreme value in this compound.” Harvey continued.

  “Which is?” Buck, seated alone front and center, wondered.

  “The cure for what’s been ailing the female population.”

  There was a collective gasp in the tent. Krys placed her hands over her mouth and couldn’t breathe for a moment. She tried to grasp what the unit was just told. The look of shock on her face surprised Kaspar. In his mind, he thought that she would be more excited than this. If the information they gathered was accurate, and they got there in time, she would be cured. The other part of her mission could be completed, too. She could spread the word on the drug and, at the same time, help those in need. Kaspar reasoned that maybe it was just her way of dealing with the revelation.

  Krys remained speechless, which came as a shock to Harvey, too. He continued on with the mission brief, waiting for the moment when Krys would interrupt him with questions. But, as he continued, they never came. He was about to get to where they would be meeting up with Sanders’s boys when the interruption finally came.

  “Are we sure that this is for real?” Krys asked with hesitation in her voice.

  “We can never be one hundred percent sure,” Harvey declared. “However, we did rip the Intel straight from that USR computer, so we are pretty sure this is legit.”

  “There was no evidence of tampering or anything?”

  “No.”

  “So, this is for real…” Krys said as her voice began to trail off.

  “As far as we know, yes.” Harvey nodded at Krys with a half-smile. “Now, moving on, we will be meeting up with another team for this Op. They will provide us with some extra guns and support.”

  With a nod, Harvey gave Clarke the signal to change the slide. After a few moments, Roy Sanders’s mug shot appeared on the screen. The look of that red scar on Sanders’s forehead caused Kaspar to wince. Just the thought of what caused such a nasty mark on another human being made his own forehead hurt a little bit. Harvey continued the brief with letting the team know who Sanders was and how his team was going to help them.

  For some reason, the look on the guy caused mistrust within Kaspar. He knew that there was really no reason for the distrust. It was more of a gut feeling. With the seriousness of this upcoming mission, getting the cure for Krys, he wanted to make sure that nothing would get messed up. He raised his hand and Harvey pointed at him.

  “Have you met this Sanders guy?” Kaspar asked.

  “No, never in person, but we’ve been in contact for several months.”

  “How do you know we can trust him, then?”

  Harvey looked to ground then back up. “I’ve been doing this stuff for a lot longer than you. I know when I can trust a man or not. He bleeds red, white, and blue, I can tell you that.”

  “How many men does he have?”

  “Including Roy, we’ll have eight more guns for this mission.”

  That would have to be good enough. Kaspar trusted Harvey, so if Harvey said Sanders was good, then he would just assume that. There was another issue lingering in the back of his head. He raised his hand again. This time, the rebel leader seemed annoyed by yet another question from Kaspar.

  “Yes, Ryan?”

  “Did you or Clarke find out anything else about this cure? Like, does it describe how long it takes for the cure to take effect?”

  Harvey shook his head. “I was just about to get there. According to the documents we uncovered, the cure takes about 24-48 hours to completely wipe out the toxins from the body. The high potency of the drugs will induce a coma during that time frame as they rid the body of them. There is an eighty percent chance of survival.”

  “Eighty percent?” Krys asked. “That’s it?”

  “It’s better than zero.”

  Dexter cleared his throat. “What are we going to do with this cure if we get it?”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead, yet. Obviously, it will be something very valuable for us to have. But, we’ll have to very careful once we get it. There aren’t many people we can trust with it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is, this will be probably the most potent political weapon out there right now. If in the wrong hands, someone might try to sell it back to the USR for credits, or even worse, give it back to them freely.” Harvey replied.

  “And, you’re sure we can trust this Sanders guy, right?” Kaspar demanded once more.

  “Yes, I’m sure. But, I haven’t met any of his men, yet. I trust each and every one of you here in this room, with my life. I’m just saying that extra precaution will be needed once we get in and get the cure out of there.”

  Krys looked over at Kaspar and, finally, a smile crept on her face. Kaspar smiled back, wanting nothing more than to plant a big kiss on her, but held back not wanting to break the professionalism of the briefing. That smile, he hadn’t seen it in its genuine form in a long time. He just wished that they could somehow get over there in a flash, get the cure, and then everything would be like it once was with her. They could run
together, continue to fight the USR, and do the other things that…

  “We move out in two hours,” Harvey’s booming voice interrupted Kaspar’s thoughts. “Let’s get everything packed up on the double. Move out!”

  Kaspar began to help Krys out of her seat when, suddenly, she couldn’t breathe any longer. Her chest convulsed violently as she tried to draw a breath. She then went to her knees on the grass and gasped for air.

  The gasps only lasted a few seconds before she blacked out completely.

  .20

  Kaspar kept his gaze on Krys as she still lay unconscious on the small cot. His fingers were gripped on her hand, which lay limp along with her arm across his belly. Her hands felt cold and Kaspar thought that this might be the end for her. On the other side, Dexter worked on the IV, administering the same shit they’d been pumping into her system for the past several months.

  The more that he rubbed at her limp arm, the more he could feel something in his hand, and he looked down at it without wanting to. Another lesion could be seen developing on it. He kept telling her in his mind to wake up. They would get the cure for her and she would be all fine again. She just needed to hold on, to not give up, to just…

  A moan came from her lips as she started to move her head back and forth. Krys looked like she was trying to escape from a bad dream. Her eyes were slow to open until they finally met Kaspar’s concerned gaze. With her bearings back, she gripped his arm with both hands. She moved her head up towards his arm and rested it there. Kaspar reached down and rubbed at her hair.

  “I’ll give you two a minute.” Dexter said as he headed towards the front of the tent.

  “Thanks,” Kaspar replied.

  His attention turned back to Krys. He never thought he would see her as weak as she was right now. He got down to one knee and kissed at her forehead. Krys looked up from the kiss and didn’t say a word. There was no smile on her face, either. Nothing but dread and sadness could be found there. Tears started to roll down her cheeks.