Patriots & Tyrants (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 2)

by Cotton, Brian

  “I’m telling you,” Sullivan told Reed near the end of their meeting. “I’m done with the USR. I’ve done some thinking about it today and I’m through.”

  “I want to believe you…in fact, the greater part of me does believe you.” Reed replied. “But, I just can’t convince my men to take that chance. It’s not fair to them, as they’ve been with me for the long haul.”

  Sullivan nodded. “Again, I understand that, but you keep that cell phone on you. I’ll let you know if I find out anything, okay?”

  “Sure thing. I appreciate it.”

  “Well, good luck to you. Take care of yourselves, you hear? If you ever need another soldier in your war, just give me a ring.”

  “Will do.”

  And, with that, Sullivan turned his back on Reed and walked out of the park still with very little answers. It was during the drive home that he began to feel a sense of contentment inside that if he never found out exactly what happened to Julie, then that was okay. As hard as it was for him, his relationship and time with her had passed, he needed to move forward, somehow, with Davie.

  With the car put in park, Sullivan got out of the vehicle and started his short walk to the front door. The neighborhood was quiet tonight. Then again, it was always quiet every night once curfew hit. He was still feeling blessed that he had not been stopped by anyone. If he did, all he had to do was flash his credentials and the rest would take care of itself, even if he was under suspension, having anything Agent in the title went a long way.

  He inserted the key in the lock and moved in. Once inside, he reset the security system by the front door and hung his jacket on the coat hanger to his right. Something felt out of place. Nothing obvious to the naked eye, it was more of a gut feeling felt within. Sullivan became cautious with his movements. It was right up the USR’s alley to kill an Agent they felt was beyond salvage. Given Sullivan’s dealings with Reed, if anyone knew about them, that term fit Sullivan like a glove.

  Like all of the gut feelings Sullivan had in his life, this one turned out to be true, as well. When he reached the dining room, he saw a man in aviator sunglasses and an expensive black suit sitting at his table. When Sullivan’s movements could be heard, the man in the black suit flipped on the light switch behind him. His silenced PPK-S pointed straight forward in Sullivan’s direction.

  “Have a seat,” a familiar voice said.

  “Little?” Sullivan cried. “What the hell are you doing here? Did Fitzpatrick send you here?”

  “Not exactly,” Little repeated. He made a motion with the gun for Sullivan to have a seat. As Sullivan obeyed the silent order, Little reached up with his free hand and removed the sunglasses. “You’ve been snooping around in places you shouldn’t, Agent…or is it ex-Agent at this point?”

  “Ex.” Sullivan replied.

  Little chuckled, “I see.”

  “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

  “I’m with the USR...not from your department or anything. I’m something of a chameleon. The USR gives me jobs all over the country and I carry them out. Sometimes, its things like surveillance, intelligence gathering, really boring shit.”

  “And, other times?”

  “Well, let’s just say that at other times, I’m ordered to take out the trash. This is one of those cases.”

  Instincts started to kick in within Sullivan. He doubted that this man would have a change of heart, unlike that one rebel who broke into his home. Both situations were the same, however. He had a gun pointed at him with no easy escape. Little was obviously a trained killer, something that Sullivan wouldn’t have expected, but the boy was a damn good actor.

  “How long have you been watching me?” Sullivan demanded.

  “You’ve been trying to access files on your work computer. Files which contain highly sensitive and classified information.” Little paused for a moment when Sullivan’s facial expressions began to change. “You look surprised, my friend. Did you not think we keep a log of every time you tried to access those files?”

  “Of course I knew that,” Sullivan replied. “I’m just surprised that you people would go to this much trouble over some curiosity.”

  Little chuckled, “We know that you’re…fascination with our little experiments go way beyond just curiosity. You lost a loved one to that experiment, didn’t you?”

  Sullivan nodded.

  “You would love nothing more than to get answers to her death. What you fail to realize is that there are things in this life which don’t need answering. You just have to trust that the USR, in all her dealings with citizens, has humanity’s best interest in mind. If you trust that, then you can live a much easier life, free from worry.”

  Sullivan smirked, “How am I not supposed to worry when you’re killing innocent civilians?”

  “You’re starting to think like them,” Little replied with a smirk of his own, his handgun still aimed for a perfect kill shot at Sullivan’s head. “Don’t do that, you’re not. You’ve let your little tragedy cloud your thinking. Ever since your wife’s passing, your performance has gone way down. We could just fire you, but now you’re dealing with the enemy. You’ve been having secret meetings with Travis Reed, have you not?”

  “What if I have?”

  “We know you have, because I know you have. Do you know how hard it is to sit back and pretend like I have no clue what’s going on when I knew exactly what you were up to?”

  “Excellent job, Kevin. You played a good pussy…right down to the smell.”

  Little let out a small laugh. At that exact moment, Sullivan forced the folding edge of the table upward with his left shoulder. He shoved it so hard that the edge almost came right back down on him. Little fired his gun at the movement. The bullets splintered through the edge of the table. Sullivan moved fast. He pulled the little six shooter from his ankle holster, flicked the safety off, and then fired twice at Little. Each round shattered the spy’s knee caps one at a time.

  The spy cried out in pain. As he fell to the ground, he squeezed off two more rounds from the PPK-S. The bullets flew through the dining room and shattered some of Julie’s old pieces of china. When Little hit the ground the gun flew from his hand. Sullivan approached, now with the upper hand. He bent over and picked up the silenced handgun that was now well out of Little’s reach. The spy tried to reach for it anyway, but it was all for naught. With both guns pointed between his eyes, gone was the arrogance in them, only fear remained.

  “It’s over,” Sullivan said. “Tell me what your next move is.”

  “I’m a patriot,” Little said, almost unable to get the words out because of the pain. He continued to writhe around on the floor. “I will serve the USR until the very end. Just do what you gotta do.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Sullivan demanded once more.

  “There’s going to be a whole new ballgame out there. One with a new set of rules. You think that we’ve got guys on every corner now? Just wait until the military takes over the streets.”

  “They are going to declare martial law?”

  “That’s right. Once we take care of your boys, that is.”

  “What?”

  “Your friends you’ve been talking to…they will be the first to go and it will signal the start of a new kind of USR. One in which the military and the police forces work in harmony to root out the resistance. It’s going to be hell…for citizens such as yourself. Their plan to take out the resistance members should be starting right about…”

  Little reached behind him for another gun that he kept at his back side. Sullivan saw the sudden move and pulled the triggers from each gun twice. The four rounds shattered through Little’s skull, killing the spy instantly. The instant death was not poetic. That man on the ground deserved a far worse fate.

  There was no time to stand around and think about punishments, though. Sullivan reached for his black phone and dialed Reed’s number. His heart raced through all four of the rings.

  “Travis,”
Reed said over the receiver.

  “Travis, its Will. Listen, the USR has been onto to me.”

  “What?”

  “They sent in a spy to shadow me. He knew everything. He said that the USR was about to initiate Martial Law. They are going to use your deaths to justify the need for it.”

  “Shit!”

  “You need to get lost now. Get your family safe, if you can. Just get the hell out of wherever you are.”

  “What about you?” Reed asked. Sounds of his family could be heard in the background.

  “Call your people. Tell them to meet at the bridge where we met in two hours. We’ll go from there. I’m going to join you guys. I’ve nothing left for the USR. I’m nothing but expendable now.”

  “Okay, I’ll relay the message.”

  “Be careful.” Sullivan said.

  “You, too.”

  Sullivan ended the call and ran straight for his car.

  .43

  Just as Reed ended the call with the last of his comrades there was a banging noise outside his door. The door was already barricaded with a strong piece of wood, but that wouldn’t hold out for long. There was no escape from here. Being in the basement level, they didn’t have any back windows that could be used. Unless there was some kind of miracle, like Reed being able to fight them off on his own, there was no hope for them now.

  “You all stay back here,” Reed said. “Stay close to your mama okay.”

  The children all moved in on Belle. Tears were welling up in her eyes. Reed couldn’t stand the sight of it, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. He fucked up big time and his family was about to pay the price for it. As he moved to the kitchen, the pounding on the door grew louder and more aggressive. The wood was starting to break in half. Reed grabbed the AK-47 he had stashed behind the stove and clicked the safety off. Down on one knee, he kept the weapon trained on the door.

  He wondered if all that he had done was worth it.

  ***

  Masters waited patiently outside the door to the apartment. His men would breach the door soon. All he wanted at this point was to get in there, deal with the maggots inside, and be done with it. It was on to greener pastures from here and he knew it. The dogs inside needed putting down and he was the perfect man to do it. He personally requested with Blackman to take out the leader of the group. Masters would take no joy in killing off the others. He wanted the leader. He had to let that leader know who was really in charge.

  One more hard lunge by his men and the framework around the door started to splinter. Masters trained his G36 towards the door and spit out the toothpick he had been chewing on. While the others in his squad carried the standard issue M4 Carbines, each customized to their own individual tastes, Masters liked the G36. It was light weight, so he could move it around better. It might not have packed the power of the heavier duty Carbines his squad used, but a head shot was a head shot. It didn’t matter what size round did the killing, so long as the killing got done.

  Just the thought of putting a bullet in Reed’s head brought about a smile.

  ***

  Reed never found room in his life to be a religious man. He was always too busy working and trying to reconcile however he could a relationship with his family. It was at this point in his life, however, that he found himself praying even if he didn’t know how to. One more shove, and the door would give way, and that would be the end of his life.

  The sweat that beaded around his forehead started to flow free down his face. His aim, which had once been steady, now trembled along with his hands. This would be impossible. He didn’t know the size of the squad on the outside, but any numbers that they would bring in would instantly beat one.

  When the breach first started, Reed didn’t want them to break through the door. He wanted to savor the last moments of his life as best he could. The wait was almost too much to bear now, though. Reed was half tempted to walk to the door and open it for them. No need to make it easy, though, he reasoned. He might as well give them a little hell before they subdued him.

  That last lunge forward by the assault team outside finally breached the door. As soon as the door came crashing in, Reed held down the trigger of the AK and the automatic rounds flew through the air. He managed to take out the first man, the bulky guy who was leading the charge on the door, with several bursts to the mid-section. The other men tried to climb over him and Reed took out a second one.

  It was no time to get cocky, but the adrenaline was now flowing free through Reed’s veins. His once shaky aim was straight again. He felt a sense of calm as he got up from his kneeled position to take cover in the hallway. As he back peddled towards the cover, his finger remained on the trigger, sending out bursts of five at a time. The assault team grew more cautious. He managed to get a rough count of how many were left when he saw a flash bang being tossed into the apartment. Reed shielded his eyes with his lids squeezed shut. The screams from his family members in the bedroom soon became drowned out with a deafening bang which ringed at his ears.

  On the outside of the apartment, anger filled Masters’s insides. How could the two men who lay dead on the ground allow some heathen to put them down? No matter, his team still had the upper hand. When the flash bang went off, the assault team finished their breach inside the apartment. Masters entered in last, bring up the rear. He heard screams from all over the basement level of the apartment building. The screams of the “innocent” brought another smile to his face. They would all have something to really scream about in due time.

  Back inside, the ringing in Reed’s ears started to ease up a little bit. His family’s cries from inside the bedroom were audible once more. The sounds of the assault team moving in could be heard, too. Reed moved the barrel of his AK over the side of the wall. He let out an automatic burst.

  This is no good, Reed thought.

  He made a break for the bedroom. With a strong dive towards the door it was forced open. Belle screamed the loudest, but everyone inside shared in the cries. Reed mouthed the words “I’m sorry” before he turned his attention back to the hallway. The assault team started to move in. Reed could feel his family behind him huddle against his back.

  Covering his family, Reed held his finger down on the trigger and cried incoherent words.

  .44

  When it came to waiting to protect his own life, X had the patience of Job. The booby traps around the door to his apartment were already rigged. The poor son of a bitch that opened the door would be in for a hell of a surprise. The thought of running had crossed his mind, but he decided that he was safer here in his apartment than getting caught outside with his pants down.

  X held the twelve gauge shotgun in his hands. The barrel was pointed at the front door. All the lights in the place were turned out. The only light in the room was that which penetrated the drapes over his windows. He had been waiting in this position ever since he got the call from Reed that the USR was onto them and sending in troops to kill them all off.

  For a moment, he thought for sure that it was that Agent who was talking to Reed who tipped off the USR. However, according to Reed, it was Sullivan who tipped off his one-time friend that they were coming. If it was him, why would he do that? He wouldn’t, X reasoned, so maybe he really was on their side. If not on their side, he definitely wasn’t on the USR’s side. That much was made clear by now.

  In the moments waiting for the eventual ambush, a sense of guilt started to bellow up inside of him. When he first approached Reed about starting up a small resistance group to aid the others, their relationship was built on trust. He should have trusted his friend more when it came to the Agent. He should have known that Reed wouldn’t have steered them in the wrong direction. It was mainly his own desires to defeat the USR that caused the mistrust. X didn’t want anything to go wrong and at the first sign of trouble, he relegated back to his old ways. He just hoped that Reed made it out okay with his family.

  Outside the doors, he could hear foo
tsteps on the old wood. Being Catholic, X went north, south, west, east with his right hand. After the ritual was complete, his grip on the shotgun returned. There was no fear now. If this was his time, it was his time to go. That’s how he always lived his life. During the fast times of being a gang member, death was always right around the corner. X learned not to fear it, but to embrace it, and that made him a dangerous man. He hoped that the dangerous man would return for this firefight. The old X would be needed to get through this.

  The door handle started to jiggle a little bit. Whoever was messing around with it was shocked to find that the door was unlocked. Would he fall for the trap? The answer soon became yes. The USR soldier swung the door open. The ax, which rested above the door frame, was turned loose. The red end of the silver blade cut right through the soldier’s face. It was an instant death and his body hung with the ax firmly entrenched in his skull. The other soldiers took a step back for a moment. They looked in shock as their comrade hung by his tip toes outside the door.

  X cracked a smile as he waited by the door. Eventually, the soldiers pushed aside their fallen squad mate and entered the apartment. At the sight of the first soldier, X pulled the trigger on the twelve gauge. The soldier took the buck shot to the side and fell, bleeding out on the floor. X did the same to the second man who tried to enter. When the second one fell, he raced from his seated position to behind the couch, which faced the door. Automatic gunfire now filled the room.

  X used the shoulder strap of the shotgun to hang the weapon against his back. His Colt .45 rested in his hip holster. He gripped the weapon then held it in his hands. He popped up from his cover and took out another soldier with a five quick squeezes of the trigger. The other soldiers were quick to return fire. X ducked back down. The count of men left was four.