Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1) (22 page)

“Did you ever find anything out from the CA?” Fitzpatrick asked,
trying to change the subject.

“I did. This killing today confirms it. I told Greg Boler from
that department about Forte, and look what happened. They even ripped the poor
bastard’s fingernails out.”

“Boler,” Fitzpatrick rubbed at his chin, “he didn’t show up for
work today.”

“Can you blame him? He’s probably skipped town by now.”

“We’ll send units to his house right away, just in case.”

“Sir,” Sullivan pleaded. “Let me ask you one last time: let me be
there tonight.”

“Absolutely not. CA is running this op, same as usual.”

Sullivan stood and pointed. “They are sending those boys to their
deaths. That I can guarantee.”

Fitzpatrick grimaced. “Get that finger out of my face. I don’t
like this anymore than you do, but that’s an order straight from the top. All
we can do is hold our breath and hope that they apprehend the suspects.”

“Sir, I cannot back down from this. Forte was one of my men. Do
you know what they did to him?”

“Yes, I read the report.”

“Let me refresh your memory,” Sullivan sat back down. “They shot
him dead…in cold blood right after they tortured him.”

“As I understood it,” Fitzpatrick looked to his computer screen,
“he did the same thing.”

Sullivan was taken back a moment. He couldn’t believe what he
heard come from his own boss’s mouth.

“What are you trying to tell me, sir? That it’s fine? It was his
Karma?”

Fitzpatrick rubbed his forehead. “No, that’s not what I’m trying
to say. He got what he dished out. Let’s admit something. Travis was not
exactly high up on the morality ladder. It was just an observation.”

Just an observation, there was that phrase again. Sullivan sat
down then tried to relax himself on the chair while he played with his smooth
chin. He soon came to the realization that Fitzpatrick was not going to see his
view of things. It was futile to try any longer. He reasoned that he would have
to take a stronger route instead.

“Let me tell you something,” Sullivan said. He leaned forward,
“Travis Forte might not have been the greatest human being to walk this earth,
but he was one of us. We have to show them that we will not just sit on our
hands while they kill our own people.”

“We will get them,” Fitzpatrick replied. “Just let CA take care of
it. Again, this is an order straight from the Consul’s office. I will not allow
you to go. I will not be thrown in prison for you, no matter how great of an
Agent you are.”

“There’s something else.” Sullivan replied.

“What?”

“I look around at all the bad shit that’s going on out there. The
resistance is the cause of it. I will see to it that it all ends, tonight. Let
me go.”

“One final time, stay away. If I catch you out there, I will have
your badge, do you read me?”

Sullivan stood and saluted the Captain. “Yes, sir.”

He turned and opened the door, letting it slam behind him. Once in
his office, he clinched his fists once again. Sullivan could not let this go.
He could not put this in the hands of the imbeciles over in the CA, this
mission was too vital. He would go, hide in the shadows, and if he got his
chance, he would grab one of them and make the arrest. They wouldn’t take his
badge if he brought in a member of the resistance. How could they?

Sullivan pulled his leather chair back and sat. He began to plot
out his actions and weighed in on the pros and cons. He reasoned that the pros
far outweighed anything negative that could happen, including losing his badge
or his life. When he began to question his decision, he quickly silenced that
negative voice in his head.

This was ending tonight: one way or the other.

Howard Anderson fumbled around for something in his pocket. Once
his fingers reached the keys, he pulled them out and sighed. It had been a
long, grueling day at work. Some deals he had been responsible for turned sour,
for no reason apparent to him. He worked on that sale for the last three
months. Everything appeared on the surface to be going smoothly. Just a day
ago, the buyers were enthused by what Anderson sold to them. Then, at the drop
of a hat, they backed out.

Anderson unlocked the door to the tiny one bedroom apartment. It
wasn’t much, but it was better than some of the places his co-workers lived in.
It was only temporary, too. There would be other deals to make. If his bosses
didn’t fire him, that is. The time would come when he could afford the dream
house his wife fantasized about for the past year. It was a fool’s hope, he
knew, money wasn’t to be made with the high taxes, low wages, and higher
demands. Dreaming of a new house was not something he wasted his thoughts with,
even if he indulged his wife with them.

He laid his jacket against the back of the red couch, which stood
facing a small, sixteen inch flat screen television. He saw his wife cooking
something in the kitchen in the back of the apartment. Over to the right was
the door which led to the bedroom.

“Hi, honey.” Ashley Anderson said.

“Hey,” Anderson replied.

His wife put up that smile and, for a moment, he forgot about the
hard day he endured: the low wages, the demanding boss, the deal of his career
falling flat. The smell of tomato sauce hit his nostrils. He breathed in his
wife’s cooking and smiled. He hadn’t told her about the day, yet, but it was
almost like she accessed some type of telepathy in her mind by cooking up his
favorite meal. He walked into the kitchen, pulled his wife in close enough to
feel her heart beat against his chest, and kissed her.

“Where’s Frankie?” Anderson asked.

“She’s in the bedroom, working on homework.”

“How has she been doing in school?”

“Straight A’s on her report card today.” Ashley replied.

“Ain’t that something? She’s such a bright young girl.”

“Sure is…oh, darn it, the sauce!”

Ashley ran over to the stove to shut off the burners. She moved
the pot of sauce over to a cool burner on the stove. Anderson could not help
but laugh. He got the “look”, those stone cold devil woman eyes, from his wife
and Anderson shrugged his shoulders. He walked over to the dinner table where
an empty plate, silverware, and a glass of ice water awaited. He took a sip of
the water and the cold liquid relaxed him as it went down. He was home. He
raised the glass to his lips again…

BOOM!!!

The loud explosion forced Anderson to drop the glass to the
ground. When it hit, the glass shattering resembled what just happened to his
front door. Ashley screamed and bee lined towards her husband. Anderson stood
and stumbled backward as the SWAT team poured their way in. Six Agents made up
the squad. They were armed with P90 submachine guns, all of them pointed in his
direction.

Stay in the bedroom, Frankie.

After the initial wave of Agents made their way in, a seventh man
entered. His getup was different from the black fatigues the others wore.
Instead, he bore a gray and red uniform. The long top went down past his knees,
the collar up to his chin, with the wrinkled skin of his Adam’s apple exposed
down the middle. His long nose curved up in the middle and in his skinny,
wrinkled hands, he carried a small leather book. Anderson’s grip on his wife
grew tighter as the old man approached. The man in red and gray looked at
Anderson with small, red eyes. Anderson looked into those eyes and saw nothing
behind them. He appeared to be a soulless, emotionless being who merely existed
to do the USR’s bidding.

“Howard Anderson?” the leader asked with a voice void of any
emotion.

“That’s me,” Anderson replied. “What is this all about?”

“You are under arrest. For conspiring against the USR and her
leaders.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’ve come across some information from an informant. He has
implicated you as aiding the resistance that has been terrorizing our city.”

“What?” asked a stunned and confused Anderson.

Ashley looked into her husband with wide eyes. “Is that true?”

“Sir, I believe you are mistaken.” Anderson said. “I work for the
Corporation and have no ties whatsoever with the resistance.”

“We don’t make mistakes, Mr. Anderson.” the leader said. He pulled
the book up to his eyes, licked his right index finger, and began to finger
through the pages. “You have already confirmed your identity. I’m afraid that
you’ll have to come with me.”

“But…” Anderson tried to get out.

“But, nothing, it says right here on page twenty-nine, article
seven: Any citizen accused of conspiracy against the USR are to be brought to
justice to answer for their crimes. You are coming with us. If you are innocent,
then you have nothing to fear. You will have the opportunity to prove your
innocence.”

“How can I do that?” Anderson demanded. “I watch the news, I know
how this works.”

The leader looked up from his book. “Think of your wife and child.
Do you want them to be involved in this?”

Anderson gripped his wife tighter. He cut off all circulation to
the rest of her arm with his grip.

“No. You keep them out of this.”

“That is up to you, Mr. Anderson.” the leader said as he put the
book into the deep pocket of his coat. He extended his hand towards his
suspect.

“What’s going to happen to him?!” Ashley demanded. Her tears began
to flow freely down her soft cheeks.

“That,” the leader said, “is not of your concern.”

“He’s my husband!”

“Then he’s obviously not a good one, putting you and your child
through this. Mr. Anderson?”

“It’s okay,” Anderson said. He looked deep into his wife’s eyes
and released his grip. “Your job is to take care of Frankie now, okay?”

“How can I do that without you?”

“You’ll find a way.”

Anderson moved in for one last hug and kiss, but a pair of strong
hands clamped down on his shoulders. Another Agent slammed his riot stick to
the back of his knees, forcing him to kneel. He looked up at his wife and the
tears started to run down his own face. He had pretended to be strong up to
this point, but the sight of his wife didn’t allow that anymore, his heart
couldn’t take it. The feelings of sadness were quick to turn to dread when he
felt the cold metal handcuffs around his wrists.

A horrible sight entered into his vision. Frankie stood in the
open doorway to the bedroom. Anderson looked into his daughter’s moist eyes and
his heart broke in half.

“Daddy!” Frankie cried.

Frankie ran towards her father, but Ashley snatched her up before
she could reach him. The little girl wiggled her way free from her mother’s
grip. She approached her father and squeezed tight around his neck.

“Where are you going?” Frankie asked.

“Daddy’s got to go away for a little bit. You need to go back to
your room and finish your homework. Dinner’s…almost ready. Go back there, now.”

“Daddy, no, don’t go!”

“You have to stay behind and be strong for your mommy. She needs
you know more…”

“Enough!” the leader cried. “We must go now!”

“Good bye.” Anderson said. The Agents behind him lifted him up off
the ground. They forced him to turn around. He got one last phrase out, “I love
you.”

The feelings of confusion grew more intense. He saw two men,
dressed in all black, with black masks on. They kneeled in between the opened
door, their assault rifles aimed and at the ready. The resistance, Anderson
thought, are they here to save me?

“Everybody down!” Kilbourne yelled through his Balaclava.

“Now!” Li shouted from beside Kilbourne.

With what strength remained, Anderson forced himself free from the
grip of the Agents. Ashley forced her daughter to the ground and lay down on
top of her. She covered her ears and let out a scream.

The shooting started. Kilbourne let out a three round burst to the
leader’s head. The three bullets caused a spray of crimson to shoot out before
the leader fell to the ground dead. Li sent two three round bursts in quick
succession to the two Agents who were escorting Anderson. The Agents fell to
the ground. The armor piercing rounds shredded their Kevlar.

Two of the remaining Agents moved to cover in front of the couch.
They fired blindly as they did. Kilbourne and Li took cover at each side of the
doorway. Kaspar stood at the end of the line beside Krys. His body began to
sweat profusely underneath the jump suit. He wanted to storm the apartment and
start killing Agents, but he knew that he had to be patient. He looked down at
the yellow fabric. He had to keep his cool, for her.

Kilbourne moved his masked head slightly into the doorway. He
caught a glimpse of an Agent who moved backward, looking for cover. Kilbourne
sent a three round burst into him and moved his head back to cover.

Ashley closed her tear filled eyes and began to scream once more
at the sight of the dead bodies in front of her. Anderson heard his wife’s
screams through the ringing sounds in his ears. He looked behind and saw his
family. He had to protect them. He tried to keep low as he moved back to them.
One of the Agents in front of the couch pointed his P90 at Anderson and fired.
The burst tore its way through Anderson’s back. He fell to the ground dead. The
sight forced Ashley to scream louder.

“NO!” Ashley cried.

“MOVE IN!” Paxton ordered from the hallway.

There were three Agents left: two in front of the couch and one in
the kitchen. The one in the kitchen used his shoulder to kick over the table,
the glass cups and plates shattered on the floor, he took cover behind it.
Ashley started to crawl at a snail’s pace towards the bedroom. She lost her
grip on Frankie, who ran into the room, shutting the door behind her.

The two Agents in front of the couch raised their P90’s over the
back and fired automatic bursts blindly towards the front. Kilbourne and Li
kept their heads low and took cover behind the couch. Paxton started to move in
but moved his head back at the sight of the muzzle flashes from the automatic
weapons inside. He held his hand out for Kaspar and Krys to wait.

The automatic burst tore through the wooden walls of the
apartment. Kaspar ducked his head low when a round penetrated the wood right
above his head. His grip on the PSD tightened.
Stop firing so I can get in
there and blow you away.

Kilbourne and Li remained patient behind the couch. The clicking
sound of the Agent’s automatics told the two rebels that their guns were dry.
Li held up his hand, Kilbourne nodded his head in acknowledgment of the wait
signal.

Li moved his head over the side of the couch. He saw the armored
men reload their weapons. The Agent in the kitchen tried to yell out a warning
before he fired at the couch. It was too late. Li switched to full auto and
held his index finger on the trigger. The automatic burst filled the Agent on
his end with rounds. Li moved back to cover.

The second Agent finished his reload. He tried to raise up to get
a shot on Kilbourne. Kilbourne rose first. At point black range, a three round
burst tore through the Agent’s face.

“Clear!” Kilbourne yelled. He dropped back down to cover.

The last remaining Agent dropped his P90 and ran for Ashley. The
rest of the team entered the apartment and aimed their PSD’s at him. He forced
Ashley off of the ground before anyone could get a clean shot. He pulled out
his sidearm, a Glock, and pressed the muzzle to the woman’s ear. The Agent
forced her to the right, towards the small hallway that led to the bedroom.

“Let her go!” Paxton ordered. He thought he had a clean head shot
but hesitated. “You’ve got nowhere else to go.”

“Drop your guns, or I drop her, got it?” The Agent cried out.

“You can walk out of here or not, your choice.”

“The same applies for her. Maybe you should think about that.”

He reached the bedroom door with the woman. The Agent ducked low
in order to make sure his head was covered by his hostage’s. Once he was sure,
he reached behind him and twisted the door handle. A kick from the back of his
left foot forced the door open.

Kaspar stood in the back, watching the entire scene unfold in
front of him. The Agent back peddled with the woman into the bedroom. Kaspar
looked into Ashley’s terrified eyes and couldn’t help but think of Mother. How
she must have had the same look on her face before she met her fate. He wanted
with all his soul to squeeze the trigger, but what good would a stray bullet do
for her?

The screams from the little girl filled the apartment as the door
slammed shut. The waiting game had officially ended. The others remained calm
and were careful with their movements. Kaspar raised his PSD to his shoulder
and ran towards the room as fast as he could.