Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1) (20 page)

Kaspar noticed that this room had been deserted years ago. All
that remained were stained white and black tile floors, complete with little
brown pellets of rat droppings. He noticed Forte on that old wooden chair. The
legs were loose; they wobbled with each feigned attempt at escape. Kilbourne
looked to have a firm grip on Forte’s shoulders as Li wrapped silver duct tape
around the mark’s midsection. Next came the legs and finally the arms were
taped to the arm rests. There would be no way for this man to break free and
start swinging at people. Then again, he was outgunned five to one, so it
wouldn’t make much of a difference, anyway.

Forte looked wide eyed at his abductors as Kaspar reached into his
pocket for his pack of smokes. Kaspar shook one loose and lit up with his
lighter. The nerves inside of Forte caused an involuntary shake of his body.
His lips trembled and Kaspar fought back a smile the whole time in between
drags. Where was the smug, arrogant face now? This Agent had tortured innocent
people, then led other Agents to arrest and murder more innocent people. So
proud of his work he must have been…now he sat there like a coward seeking a
way out.

“Who are you people?” Forte demanded with a shaky voice.

“That,” Paxton replied as he rubbed his hands together, “is none
of your concern. What is of your concern is that you have information that we
want.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Travis, don’t play dumb. It offends me.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know lots about you,” Paxton replied. He knelt down to get to
eye level. “I know that you torture, arrest, and kill innocents.”

“It’s you guys…” Forte said. His eyes grew wider.

“Yeah, oh darn, right?”

“When they find you…”

“They won’t, as your precious RU has already proven.”

“We know you have somebody on the inside, when we catch him, he’ll
talk.”

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this,” Paxton said. He
reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. “But our person on the inside is
way better than you, you’re not catching anyone.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Paxton took several drags on his cigarette. When finished, he
threw the butt onto the ground and rubbed his military boot into it, smothering
what was left. He moved in closer cracking his knuckles as he did. He knelt
down once more and backhanded the right side of Forte’s face.

“Enough chit chat,” Paxton said. “Let’s get down to business.”

“I ain’t telling you shit.” Forte replied. He spit onto the floor.

“I don’t want you tell me ‘shit’. I want you to tell me who your
next targets are.”

Kaspar waited patiently enough. He threw his cigarette to the
ground and moved in on Forte. This pumpkin haired bastard had to have known
something, he was sure of it. He worked for the RU, which charged its Agents
with rooting out the resistance. Mother…she was charged with aiding the
resistance.

“Hold on a sec…” Kaspar said, he held his right arm in the air.

“What are you doing?” Paxton demanded.

“I’ve just got something to ask him.”

Kaspar kneeled down on one knee and the two engaged in stares. He
did not want this to get too ugly, but the truth would be known today. The red
eyes of Forte caused something inside of Kaspar to burn.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.” Forte said.

“I think you do,” Kaspar replied, eyes filled with rage. “Does the
name Jenna Kaspar mean anything to you?”

“No…”

“Not this again,” Paxton said. He sighed and touched Kaspar on the
shoulder. “Look, we’ll get the answers to that later. We don’t have a lot of
time here.”

“This little son of a bitch knows something…”

“Jenna Kaspar?” Forte said with a laugh. “I don’t know that name.”

“What kind of work do you do?” Kaspar demanded.

“I…round up your comrades and bring them to justice. Same thing
that’s going to happen to all of you, now that I know who you are.”

“Jenna was…my mother. She was killed by your people.” Kaspar said.
He reached to his back for something.

Paxton noticed it and grabbed hold of Kaspar’s wrist. Kaspar tried
to wiggle his way free, but the grip proved to be too strong. The old veteran
kept his grip as the kid looked over at him. He felt sorry for him, but now was
not the time.

“Go stand in the corner,” Paxton ordered. “Let us handle the
interrogation.”

“He knows something…”

“I don’t know that bitch you’re talking about,” Forte said. “But,
I’m sure if I saw her…”

The comment sent Kaspar’s rage ablaze and, with it, an adrenaline
rush. He broke free of Paxton’s grip. He pulled out the Beretta from the
waistline of his jeans. He pistol whipped Forte along his right cheek. The whip
caused a nasty gash on his face, the blood poured out instantly. Kaspar went in
for another blow, but the oxygen from his lungs failed to come up.

Paxton moved his hand back and waved it in the air. He didn’t feel
good about sucker punching a comrade, but he couldn’t allow anyone to
jeopardize this operation. He watched as the kid wheezed. Paxton motioned for
Kilbourne to help him up.

“You wait outside,” Paxton said as he looked over him. “Ron, take
him.”

Kaspar tried to breath and fight off Kilbourne’s monstrous grip at
the same time. When it became apparent he wouldn’t escape, Kaspar concentrated
fully on catching his breath. In between wheezes, he caught a glimpse of Forte
as he was being dragged out. The Agent had a grin on his face, the grin made
the urge to pull out a gun and shoot out those yellow teeth stronger.

He
felt his body fly when Kilbourne gave him a shove. Without saying a word,
Kilbourne turned and walked back into the makeshift interrogation room. Kaspar
said nothing, either. Instead, he picked himself up off the ground then walked
to the front door. He moved over to the corner on his left. Sitting down, he
let out a laugh. There was an Agent in there who might have, in all likelihood
did, know what happened to Mother. Hell, that Forte bastard was probably the
one who pulled the trigger
.

If
only the others would give him the time to get the answers. They could continue
their game later while Kaspar went out and brought about true justice. They
refused to give it to him so all Kaspar could do was sit on the old floor and
laugh. The laughter soon turned to sadness. He thought for a brief moment about
barging into the room to take out Forte. The logical part of his brain kicked
in. He was outnumbered and he wouldn’t stand a chance.

He
used all of his strength to stand up and smoke another cigarette instead.

“It looks like you have some dissention in your ranks.” Forte said
with a laugh.

Paxton raised his right hand and punched Forte on his cheek. Then,
before the Agent could move his head forward, he was struck again. Paxton
looked down at the scared, yet defiant, look on his enemy’s face. The gash from
Kaspar’s pistol whip continued to leak blood. The old veteran aimed for it with
one last strike to Forte’s face. He shook the pain off of his hand and used the
Agent’s shirt to wipe off the blood.

“He’s still a green horn,” Paxton said. He grinned, “But, we’re
not.”

“What now?” Forte demanded. “You going to hit me some more?”

“It depends. Do you have anything to tell me?”

“I already told you, you ain’t getting nothing outta me.”

“Fine, have it your way.”

Paxton folded his arms and walked away with careful steps backward.
Kilbourne moved in front and started to crack the knuckles on his monstrous
hands. Upon approach of the Agent, he began to rub his hands together and
flexed the muscles in his arms and chest. Forte’s expression turned to complete
fear, his body shook, his heavy breathing turned to fast panting.

Kilbourne landed a sharp blow to the midsection. He reached back
and landed another one. A loud pop from a cracked rib pressed Kilbourne to go
further. Another blow to the midsection and Forte began to cry out in pain.
Kilbourne ignored it. He landed a blow to the right groin…then to the other
one. The punches moved up to the face, one cheek and then the other. Kilbourne
then used his powerful right hand to form a death grip around Forte’s neck.
What little movement the Agent could muster was spent wiggling around in the
chair.

The Agent’s lips turned blue, but Kilbourne kept his grip until he
felt a tap on the shoulder. He released the grip and Forte gasped for air.
Paxton took to the front again. He stared down at the enemy, allowed him to
catch his breath for a moment, while he fumbled around with something in his
pocket.

“You got something to say to me now, don’t you?” Paxton demanded.

“…Fuck…you…” Forte managed to get out.

“You want to play games, is that it?”

“No…no, games, please…”

“Okay, then, who is your next target?” Paxton demanded.

Forte looked up and, with what little strength he had left, he
spit in Paxton’s face. Paxton backed away and then used his shirt collar to
wipe away the white and red mixture on his cheek. He shook his head and took a
tight grip to the black handle inside of his pocket. He did not want to do
this, but the bastard gave him little choice. Despite the insistence that Forte
didn’t want to play games, that was exactly what was to happen. He held up the
handle of the switch blade for his enemy to see.

“You know,” Paxton said. “I’ve heard some interesting rumors about
you. I’ve heard that you like to dig your victim’s fingernails out. Is that
true?”

Silence.

“IS THAT TRUE?!” Paxton demanded once more.

Silence again. Paxton pressed down on the handle and a shined
blade shot up with a flicking sound. Forte’s jaw began to tremble as his
interrogator waited for an answer…anything. Nothing came, so Paxton approached
and took hold of the trembling index finger on the right hand.

“Last chance, bub.” Paxton said.

Forte spit in his face once more. The old veteran didn’t bother to
wipe the saliva off this time. There were more pressing matters now, like
getting answers. He looked back and signaled for Kilbourne to move behind.
Kilbourne obeyed and held down the Agent by the shoulders. Paxton dug the sharp
blade into the index finger, underneath the nail. He ignored the cries of pain
and reached the end of the nail bed. With a sharp flick upward, the nail went
flying into the air and landed next to Forte’s foot.

Krys stood in the back of the room and couldn’t take it anymore.
She buried her face into her palms while she walked to the door. Paxton looked
back to see her walk out and that thing inside of him began to eat away at his
soul. It kept telling him to stop it, but he ignored it like always. The
struggle within himself began once again.

He did not want to take pleasure in what he was about to do.

***

Kaspar heard the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway. He
threw the half smoked cigarette to the ground and looked towards it. It was
Krys, her head low, with nobody else to accompany her. What was going on in
there?

She walked to the wall adjacent from him and leaned her back
against it, head still straight down. No words came from her trembling lips. No
sound except for her heavy breathing. She finally looked up and when she did,
Kaspar could see tears roll down her cheeks. He walked over to her and stood
beside.

“What’s going on?” Kaspar wondered.

“Nothing…” Krys replied. “Just John’s usual routine.”

“What routine is that?”

“He’s…questioning our mark right now.”

Kaspar’s eyes lit up and anticipation filled his voice. “He’s
torturing that man in there?”

“Yep, he’s using the same methods that they use. I thought we were
supposed to be above that…I guess I just don’t get it.”

“If he’s not giving any answers…”

“That shouldn’t matter! He’s a human being.”

The tears continued to leak down her cheeks as Kaspar breathed in
and turned his head away. He searched his mind for something to say, but since
he didn’t disagree one tiny bit with what was going on in there, he remained
silent. The USR…they took away Mother…they committed horrible acts against
their own people. Why should it matter if the same brand of justice was brought
back to them?

“It’s necessary,” Kaspar said.

“No evil is necessary,” Krys replied. She looked into Kaspar’s
eyes. “You of all people should know that.”

Kaspar looked away again, “If you were in that position, if you
knew something the USR wanted, do you think they would spare you…that?”

“No, they wouldn’t. And that’s why we are fighting them.”

“Why stay, then? If you know this goes on?”

“I don’t know…I want to make a difference, but not at the expense
of my own humanity. I don’t want to be like them…like John.”

Krys moved in on Kaspar and then buried her head in his chest.
Kaspar, unsure of what to do, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and just
stood there. He held her and began to run his left hand down her soft hair.

Neither spoke.