Patriots & Tyrants (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 2) (20 page)

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.

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
his 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.