Patriots & Tyrants (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 2)

by Cotton, Brian

  “I understand, I think.” Reed said once Sullivan got to the end.

  “I want to know the truth, like I said.”

  Reed nodded his head. After he looked around him one more time just to make sure, he went into all the details that he knew about the population control drug that killed the Agent’s wife. He talked about how the USR feared overpopulation and the drug was just one more form of their control. Reed also went into detail how the USR distributed the drug into the water supply system, how they knew there were bugs in it, but went through with it anyway. No regard for the lives of the women they would kill. What Reed told him, unlike before, was much more detailed. This wasn’t just some angry rebel any longer, but he seemed to be a well-informed citizen.

  More than once, Sullivan shook his head in utter disbelief. At one point, he had to stop himself from interrupting the rebel and telling him to get real. The more Reed went on, however, the more the guilt inside Sullivan grew. He realized that he had been fighting on the wrong side this whole time. Even though some of the juicier parts of Reed’s story were hard to believe, he couldn’t shake the feeling that a lot of it had to come from some kind of truth.

  The USR simply denied the problem and then went so far as to blame the resistance for destroying the only place where they were developing a cure. It was all just one big control scheme after another. And that, Sullivan knew from his prior cases and arrests, was an undisputed fact. The USR craved that control, so using a population control drug, no matter the consequences, seemed right up their alley.

  “Hard to believe?” Reed said after he finished. He could tell from Sullivan’s facial and body language that the Agent was having a hard time wrapping his mind around what he was being told. He couldn’t blame him.

  “Sure is,” Sullivan replied. “I worked for the USR and, even experiencing a lot of the things that I was basically forced to do, I just can’t imagine they’d stoop to such a low.”

  “Well, believe it. I’ve got no reason to lie to you.”

  “You’ve had everything you just told me verified?”

  “Sure,” Reed replied. “After that one rebel leader was executed at the Consul’s office, we were approached by someone who provided us with the evidence.”

  “Who was this person?” Sullivan wondered.

  Reed smirked. “Not telling.”

  “Understandable. Listen, you need to protect yourself right now. I’m no longer on the inside. I can’t help you in that department.”

  “Understood.”

  .40

  Harvey bent his head down and rubbed at his black hair. The conversation he just had with another rebel leader didn’t go as planned, which could be said for a lot of the conversations he was having. Clarke, who was setting up the Com-links for him and Sanders, kept trying to encourage the old man into keeping his head up. That was impossible to even think about at this point. He was starting to question the legitimacy of what they were planning. Perhaps he was right all along, and Sanders was the one who had it all wrong. The general sentiment that he kept getting was that this was too soon to try something as huge as going after the Capitol.

  Some of the others had concerns about their manpower. They were, of course, running their own Ops all across the country and couldn’t spare any of their men. The more Harvey tried to explain to them why it was so imperative that they at least try something, the more he began to doubt his own words. At times, he felt like it was Sanders talking through him rather than himself.

  Sanders, who sat across from him in the tent, seemed to be doing more than okay. He had that smirk on his face as he reached his pen down to the yellow paper. It looked like he had gotten another squad to come and help. Harvey looked to his own pad. There were only two names written down and they had a total of ten men put together. Sanders wasn’t having much better luck, but his list was significantly larger than Harvey’s.

  Was this even worth it? That was the question that flooded Harvey’s mind. Combine all these forces together, on a dangerous mission, and then if it failed what would happen? They would have sacrificed good men and it couldn’t be considered anything more than a huge victory for the other side.

  Sanders looked up from his paper. “You look down. Not having any luck?”

  Harvey slammed his fist on the desk. “I’ve got two damn squads that have agreed to help. Two.”

  “That’s okay, we’re not done calling.”

  “I’ve talked to several of our fellow leaders and they are all saying the same thing. It’s too dangerous. Too risky. It will only make things worse out there for the people.”

  “Things have a tendency to get worse before they get better. Come on, you’re old enough to know that.”

  Harvey rubbed at his forehead. “I just don’t know, Roy.”

  “Don’t know what?”

  “This war. I just don’t know anymore. It’s hopeless. I’ve spent countless hours, lost good men, on sabotaging those labs. Then, I lost almost all the rest trying to get that cure. I just feel like if we do this, and we lose, that it’s only going to get more hopeless.”

  A disappointed look grew on Sanders’s face. He looked straight into Harvey’s eyes and just stared for a moment. Harvey felt like Sanders was looking deep into his soul to see if there was anything left. Harvey wondered the same thing. If only more of their fellow warriors had the courage to do what was necessary, maybe then his feelings of hopelessness wouldn’t be so strong.

  “Listen to me, Sam.” Sanders said to finally break the silence.

  “I’m listening.”

  “No, I mean open your fucking ears and let this set in, okay?”

  “Go ahead.” Harvey replied, growing impatient.

  “I know this seems like a major step forward, going after DC and all. But, sometimes it takes brave men like us to do something crazy. A lot of these pukes we’re talking to, they don’t have any hope. They sound like you, actually. But, if we can do something crazy and succeed, just think of the morale boost. We can get them on our side then plan something crazier. This guerilla warfare BS we’ve been doing, it ain’t gettin’ the job done.”

  Harvey let those words sink in for a moment before responding. In that time of pondering he grew envious of Sanders. Sanders was a man who knew only one thing and that was war. The old Delta Force soldier sitting in front of him never had a family, never had much of a care to start one, either. There was nothing that could deter him from the ultimate goal, which was always winning the war. In this case, he would stop at nothing to kick some USR ass. For Harvey, the question was always how they could win. For Sanders, even though he did want to win, the question was always the next battle. He didn’t care about the scale of the fight.

  There was nothing but courage inside of Sanders. Harvey wished he could be like that. The analytical part of his brain just never ceased to rear its ugly head during moments like these. He was never a coward; he just couldn’t get past doing the pros and cons of every fight.

  “I hear you on that.” Harvey replied.

  “So, are you backing out, or are you going to cowboy up?” Sanders wondered.

  “You know I’m in for this.”

  “Then you need to let those that you talk to know that. I can hear the doubt in your voice, and it’s making me want to vomit. When I talk to these folks, I’m letting them know I’m all in, no doubts. No second guessing.”

  Harvey sighed. “Have you even thought about what would happen if we lost? All those men would be gone.”

  “I don’t allow myself to think that way. Maybe it’s a flaw on my part.”

  “I understand.” Harvey replied.

  With that, Sanders looked back down on his computer as he tried to get in touch with another rebel squad. Harvey looked down at his screen and started to do the same thing. He conceded that Sanders was right. The resistance, at this point, couldn’t sit back and worry about the consequences. They had to move forward and continue to take the war to the USR. If they suffered
a defeat, no matter how significant, then so be it. At least Harvey could go to his grave and tell his maker that he fought bravely and with courage for what he believed in. That was more than a lot of folks could say.

  When the next face appeared on his screen, a renewed sense of vigor filled his soul.

  .41

  Caine was in the midst of his daily trance when he heard the phone next to him buzzing. It was the red phone, which meant the call was urgent, or at least it had better be urgent or the caller would suffer the consequences. When he decided to pick it up, the operator on the other end told him that a Captain in the police force was calling the Consul about a potential rogue Agent. The operator was a handler for a USR spy, who always kept Caine’s identity secret, would continually feed him information like this. It was the only way that the dictator could keep his and the Elders identities secret, but still be in the know about what was going on in their country.

  The Agent in question, William Sullivan, was investigating rebel activity from those who worked for the USR. Caine knew where those men worked, once they told him the city, so he knew that it was imperative that anyone working in that factory be put to justice as quickly as possible. The potential of something getting leaked or, far worse, something getting stolen to use against the USR was far too great to not take seriously. Caine told the operator to make sure that the problem was dealt with or that spy could kiss his ass good-bye. After he shouted this into the phone, he slammed it on the cradle.

  Whenever he felt like this, like the rage inside of him would take over, he always looked down at his citizens and the feelings inside began to calm down. He knew that it was only fitting that a man as enlightened as him should lead those imbeciles down there. There were times when he felt bad about thinking of his fellow man in that light, but then again, the rationalization always came that his knowledge was above that of the citizens under his rule. Because of that, it was only fair.

  Once satisfied, his mind quickly switched to the meeting he was about to conduct with Blackman. There were a lot of things about the former general that Caine didn’t care for, mainly that the old man, even though he changed his ways, at one point fought for the United States. That sickened him to a new kind of disgust to even think about it. He also didn’t like Blackman’s in your face, you’re going to respect me, attitude. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with that attitude, but for anyone other than himself, Caine saw it as a character flaw.

  Blackman sure did have a grand plan, though. For that, Caine could respect the man. At least he knew how to up the ante on those lesser beings below. Having not only Agents on every corner, but also the military patrolling the streets now would ensure that those citizens would never get out of line. Caine and his fellow leaders knew what was right and now the citizens below would fall in line and live out what was right, too. The thought of it brought a smile to Caine’s face just as the doorbell to his office rang.

  Caine pushed the red button on his desk. “Come in.”

  The door immediately opened. At other end stood Blackman, like always standing in perfect posture, and next to him was a military grunt who looked to be in his mid-thirties. The man had a thick, black goatee around his mouth, his head shaved to the skin. He had a look in his eyes . It brought another smile to the dictator’s lips.

  When they were finally seated in front of Caine’s desk, he offered them glasses of water, but both declined. This refusal for something that Caine freely offered got under his skin a bit, but he let it go, too excited to hear what the two military shits were going to say. It took him a second to collect himself after the refusal, but he quickly asked Blackman to introduce him to the military man seated next to him.

  “This is Lieutenant Guy Masters,” Blackman said. “A rising star in our military.”

  “Nice to meet you, Lt. Masters.” Caine said with a salute.

  Masters saluted back, picking up on the sarcasm of the gesture. “Pleasure’s mine.”

  Blackman went on to explain all of Masters’s accomplishments while fighting for the USR. The whole time that he spoke, Masters just stared with ice coldness at Caine. The dictator just stared right back. The stare that he received was like a double edge sword. He really liked the aggressiveness of the man who would be a leader in the next phase. The fact that he was unafraid, knowing who he was dealing with, to just stare like he could snap at any moment, rush the table, and kill Caine was seen as a good thing. It was also a negative. Caine started to get the feeling, after the positive thoughts left him, that Masters could be a loose cannon.

  It was around the time when Blackman got to the medals Masters earned that Caine started to raise his hand for silence. The medals, those were things that Caine wanted banned from the USR military. The sight of old war vets, like Blackman, brandishing their medals around like trophies sent a crawling sensation up his skin. When the regime change happened, and he arose to dictator, he said that his military would never wear such things. But, alas, he was voted out by other Elders and top military leaders. Not wanting to get on their bad sides too early, Caine gave in, something of a rarity for him.

  “That’s about enough, General.” Caine said. He still grew disgusted at calling Blackman that. It wasn’t like he earned the title of General fighting for the USR. It was a title that carried over from the past.

  Blackman sighed. “What are your thoughts, sir?”

  “Let me ask you a question, Guy.”

  Masters leaned forward with the same blood thirsty stare on his face. “Go ahead.”

  “Do you know what it is that we are asking you to do?” Caine wondered.

  “Of course, you are going to send me and my men out there to root out the resistance. Whatever it takes.”

  “Do you know what kind of measures you will have to take?”

  The stare started to dissipate for a moment and a smile started to grow on Masters’s lips. Caine was pleased. The right man for the job had been picked after all.

  Masters sat tall in his chair. “Listen, I’ve been at this game long enough to know that some citizens out there are going to have to be sacrificed for the greater good. The ends justify the means, that’s my philosophy. Always lived by that. Don’t you worry about me and my men turning chicken shit if we have to sacrifice some quote ‘innocent’ civilians.”

  Caine clapped his hands together. As he mouthed the word ‘bravo’ he looked over to Blackman who didn’t look too pleased at what the Lieutenant had just said. There was always something about Blackman that wanted to hold on to the past. The fact that he was a leftover, a decorated leftover at that, added to Blackman’s mixed feelings. The mixed feelings were never enough to warrant any kind of punishment or anything of that sort, Caine knew where Blackman’s loyalties were, but when the mention of innocents being harmed came about, Blackman’s demeanor always changed.

  Caine turned his eyes to Blackman. “Something wrong, General?”

  “No, sir.” Blackman replied.

  “Very well, then. You take the Lieutenant outside and acclimate him with the team. And, Guy?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do remember that what you’ve seen today is to be kept with the utmost secrecy. If we ever find out you’ve told anyone, even one of the little grunts under your command, anything about who we are, you will suffer a terrible fate that you can’t possibly imagine.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  ***

  The USR spy got the call in from his handler. The situation with Sullivan had gone on long enough. The rogue Agent needed to be put down immediately. This was an order straight from the top, the handler stressed, so the spy knew that anything other than absolute success would lead to his punishment. The spy often thought of this, ever since he got into this line of work, about what would happen should he fail. The most likely punishment would be torture, several days’ worth, and then an execution, either public or private. Either way didn’t matter to his employers.

  He finished putting h
is Walther PPK-S back together after a thorough cleaning. It was his ritual, even though he hadn’t fired this particular gun in quite some time. He always killed his targets with a fresh gun. He felt that this was the only way to do it. To kill another human being with a dirty gun just didn’t feel right. It also made each kill feel all the more pure to him, as well.

  With the gun reassembled, he grabbed a black silencer and screwed it on, making sure that it fit right. Once satisfied, he removed it and placed it in his briefcase which lay on the bed next to him. The spy stood and stretched his back then walked over to the mirror. He stared into his own reflection and told himself that this had to be done. Not just for his own sake, but for the sake of the country. He never did enjoy the killing, but he did enjoy the fact that he was serving the USR.

  After a moment with his thoughts, Kevin Little moved to the bathroom to shower.

  .42

  Sullivan breathed in deep as he pulled his car along the sidewalk in front of his house. Even though he really wanted to see Davie tonight, he knew that was impossible. It was far too late to go see his boy tonight. Especially since Davie had school tomorrow. He had just gotten done with another dead end meeting with Reed, this time in an old picnic shed at a local park. Reed filled him in on the current situation with their mission. Even though Sullivan was dying to know, Reed still refused to tell him what they did in that factory.

  Reed also confided in Sullivan, letting him know that their continuing partnership had caused rifts from within. The Agent tried his best to comfort the rebel leader, but Sullivan knew that there was little he could do to make the rest of those boys trust him. He was, after all, involved with the enemy. During his time as an Agent, he led the charge to bring them down. He couldn’t expect them to trust him now.