Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1) (25 page)

Sullivan sat in the driver’s seat of his hybrid car and pulled out
his pistol. He chambered a round and then released the slide. After a deep
breath he secured the Glock 17 back into the shoulder holster. Through the
windshield he could see Billy King’s place, a little run down shop in the bad
part of town. Sullivan couldn’t place the last time he came to visit the horny
son of a bitch. Even though he never got any good leads from the gun dealer,
Sullivan knew he needed him. King ought to consider himself lucky that he was
allowed to run free for so long. That would all change today.

The bright sun stung at his eyes, which forced a squint. A little
bell rang from above at the opening of the door. Inside, all was quiet. No
shoppers and no sign of King. It was a small store, which specialized, on the
surface, in small household goods. The bastard also ripped off who knew how
many customer’s with those glass jewels he sold. It was a good cover, good
enough anyway, for what really went on in the basement.

The front counter was made of glass with fake jewelry inside.
Sullivan walked behind it towards the office in the back. There was a strange
sound coming from inside the locked door. It was...a moaning sound from a woman
who just reached her climax. An ear pressed against the door confirmed it. It
was a woman crying out in pleasure. King was still the dog he always was and
would be. Sullivan knew where the majority of the money King made dealing fake
jewelry and guns went to.

With a balled fist, Sullivan slammed hard on the door. The moaning
never paused. King’s shouts of hold the fuck on forced Sullivan to back away. A
brief entertainment of shooting the door handle off was pushed aside. Might as
well let the man enjoy himself as it could be the last time. Sullivan decided
to be patient. The answers would come as soon as King did.

Moments later, the door swung open, and out walked a skinny
brunette. She had the look of a woman who just slid out of bed. Strands of hair
pointed in all directions, her thick red lipstick was smeared all over her
face, too. The plaid miniskirt she wore showed off her ass cheeks from behind
and did little justice for her skinny legs. She worked on her black blouse as
she walked by. The hooker buttoned it up halfway then worked on pushing up her
breasts. She turned.

“Hey, babe,” she said. “Want some love?”

“Sorry,” Sullivan replied. “But, no.”

“What’s the matter, you married or something’?”

“I…was.”

“I’ll bet you I’m better than she ever was.”

The brunette pressed her body up against Sullivan’s. He tried to
back away, but she grabbed a hold of his belt and squeezed. A fire had been lit
inside, but there was no time for this. Julie wouldn’t approve anyway…

Sullivan felt an ache in his heart. “I doubt that.”

“Come on, just for fun.” The brunette said with a giggle. “If
you’re good, I might even give you a discount.”

“Don’t waste your money,” King said. He tucked in his polo shirt
over his pot belly then worked on the zipper of his blue jeans. “Don’t bother
my customers. Just get the fuck out!”

The brunette looked at King’s bearded face and her bottom lip dropped.
Right when it looked like she would start to cry, she turned her body and
marched towards the front door. For a moment, Sullivan felt sorry for the girl.
She had just been intimate, shared her body, with a man who didn’t give a rat’s
ass about her. At the end of the day, she was still just a whore that the
jobless rates and high taxes forced her to become.

King used a brown paper towel to wipe the sweat from his brow.
Sullivan turned his attention his former snitch. The smell from the small
office crept out and the entire store now smelled like sex; a smell which had
become foreign to Sullivan. His fist slammed down on the glass counter. King
began to look nervous, which was a good thing for the Agent.

“Goddamn,” King said. “I love when ‘dem bitches wear miniskirts.”

“I’ll bet you do.” Sullivan replied.

“What’s up, Will? It’s unlike you to come bargin’ in here
unannounced.”

Sullivan reached into his pocket to retrieve a small plastic bag.
He held it up for King to see. It contained the bloodied round which ended
Forte’s life. The round made a pinging sound when it hit the glass counter.
King looked wide eyed down at it.

“Where’d you get that from?” he asked.

“You tell me.” Sullivan demanded.

King picked up the baggie and inspected the bullet. His bottom lip
underneath a pair of stained front teeth. He pulled out a small magnifying
glass to get a closer look.

“Armor piercing 9MM,” King finally said. “Looks like the kind only
you guys should have.”

“Let me refresh your memory, Billy.” Sullivan moved in closer. The
smell of body odor attacked his senses. “You know the laws. Only USR personnel
and the military are permitted to carry firearms. Never citizens. You break
these laws everyday with your…business. Not to mention illegal prostitution.”

“What’s this about?”

“To go back to your first question, I found this round inside of a
wall…it went straight through a decorated Agent’s brain.” Sullivan replied. He
breathed in and regretted it. “What this is about is you telling me who has
access to USR issued rounds.”

The wheels began to turn in King’s head. Sullivan stared right
through him without even a blink. All the while the Agent just hoped that King
would come out with it…before things started to get messy unnecessarily.

King took a step back. “I don’t like what you’re implying here.”

“Nobody cares what you think. An Agent is dead. You know how
serious my boys over at the Department take that sort of thing? We have reason
to believe that the resistance is behind that shooting. If you provided them
weapons…”

“Hey! We have a partnership, you and I.”

“The sole purpose of that is for you to provide me with
information.”

“I don’t like this. You haven’t been in to see me for months. Now,
all of a sudden, you barge in here and throw out accusations?”

Sullivan took a step forward. “Do you sell USR issued, armor
piercing rounds?”

“No.”

“Then who does?” Sullivan asked. “You must know something.”

“Haven’t a clue.”

Sullivan smirked. He could feel his face redden and his body began
to tremble in anger. There was no time for King’s bullshit, especially not
today. Back when the two had a working relationship, King would tell all about
the other dealers in the city. Bragged about how he would crush their
businesses, with his being the only one open one day. He was lying right now,
Sullivan was sure of it. King was protecting a high quality associate. It
usually didn’t take much coaxing to get the coward to spill his guts. Something
was off…

“Haven’t a clue?” Sullivan mocked.

“That’s right.”

A smile crept onto Sullivan’s face and his informant relaxed for a
moment. In that instant, Sullivan grabbed a chunk of King’s damp hair then
slammed his head into the glass counter, cracking it. He kept his grip on the
hair and pressed King’s face into the glass. The informant gasped and breathed
heavy through his nose. With his free hand, Sullivan retrieved his Glock. He
shoved the end to the back of King’s head.

“You better start talking right now,” Sullivan demanded. “Or else
Bubba down at the jail house is going to dress you up in a skirt and make you
his bitch.”

“Shit, man, let me go.” King mumbled.

Sullivan pressed the gun harder to the back of King’s skull. “Or,
maybe I should just kill you myself.”

“Come on, Will, let’s talk this out.”

“We can start with you. You’re withholding vital Intel from an
Agent. You know what would happen if I blew your head off right now? I’d get a
pat on the back and a pay increase.”

“Why would I lie?! You’ve got a gun to my head…”

“And my trigger finger itches.”

When King tried to wiggle his head free, Sullivan’s strong left
forearm dug into the back of his neck. Only a matter of time now. The threat of
jail time and death would eventually get the answers to come out. The gun was
pressed harder.

“Okay, okay, okay.” King said with a shaky voice. “I’ll tell you
what I know. Just…ease off.”

Sullivan held his ground. “Convince me.”

“There’s this Puerto Rican guy…calls himself Joe Young.”

Sullivan eased off and backed away. He kept his gun trained at
King. The informant turned then wiped the blood from his top lip.

“Joe Young, huh?” Sullivan persisted. “You got an address?”

“Sure,” King replied. He gave him the address.

“I’m going to get in my car and leave.” Sullivan holstered his
pistol. “You have yourself a good day.”

“Sorry for lying to you. Joey’s one of my biggest partners.”

“Remember who I work for the next time you think about lying to me
again.”

Sullivan walked out from behind the counter. He walked straight
for the door and back to his car. Joe Young must have been at least one major
supplier for the resistance. Maybe he would meet with them again. Only this
time, he cared nothing for bringing them in.

The bullets in his own gun would provide the necessary justice.

Paxton opened the driver’s side door and then stepped out. Krys
did the same on the passenger’s side. They both closed their doors and then
walked to the back of the van. Each slung a black duffel bag over their
shoulders before slamming the double doors shut. Paxton walked up to Young’s
door and knocked twice. The sound waves of Daisy’s violent barks penetrated the
wooden door which led to the inside.

A few seconds later the door swung open. A half-dressed Young
looked through his bloodshot eyes at Paxton then Krys. His eyes grew wide at
the sight of her and he smiled. Krys shook her head. Paxton gave his dealer a
judgmental look.

“Don’t judge me, ese.” Young protested.

“No judgment here, compadre.” Paxton replied. He held out his
hand. “Score a loose?”

“Sure thing, bro.”

Young pulled out a pack of smokes and shook one loose. Paxton took
a hold of it then put it between his lips. He pulled out his Zippo and the
tobacco caught fire. After just one drag he was already coughing. When would
his body finally have enough? Krys patted him on the back as he coughed several
more times.

“You should quit.” Krys suggested.

“Oh,” Young said after catching sight of Krys bending over to help
her leader. “I see you brought that ass with you today.”

“Joey,” Krys said. She stood upright and raised her eyebrow. “How
are you today?”

“Just fine now, mami.”

“Not today,” Paxton cut in, still short of breath. “Rough night.”

“I’ll show her a rough night…anytime.”

“Please…” Krys replied as she held up her middle finger.

Young laughed hard at the gesture and then led the way inside. Daisy
was already locked up in her cage where she resided for the entire day. Young
wasn’t in the mood for her bullshit. The three walked past her and made their
way to the basement. At the sight of Krys, Daisy wagged her tail. For months
now, ever since she was introduced to drug smoking gun runner, Krys begged
Paxton to let them keep the dog. Paxton hated dogs, so the answer was an
obvious no and remained such.

Once they were down in the basement, Young yanked on the swinging
light above, causing the room to illuminate with light. Krys headed straight
for the ammunition rack. She started to fill her bag full of preloaded
magazines for the PSD.

“Make sure,” Paxton said, not looking up from the rack of
grenades. “You get plenty of ammo for the PSD’s.”

“Already on it.”

Paxton smiled. “Good girl.”

***

Sullivan parallel parked his car behind a black van. Once out of
his car he examined it. He found the USR insignia on it as well as the evidence
of age all around the body. This was the van from the other night, he was sure
of it. Now, he could finish the job. Old King came through after all. He fought
his initial instinct to call it in. He was on suspension and didn’t want to get
thrown in prison for taking the law into his own hands.

He stood outside the chipped wooden door and took several deep
breaths. He yanked his Glock from the holster and reached for the door with his
free hand. This would be it. It would all end now, one way or the other. Sullivan
jiggled the handle to find it locked. He cursed under his breath and then backed
away from the door. Both hands were now gripped around the handle of the gun.
He took a deep breath before he started to count in his head. After he got to
three, he lifted his right leg and kicked at the door. The old door flew open
without a fight.

Sullivan moved in quick, but stopped on a dime when he heard the
loud barks of a very big dog. He found the dog in a large cage with thick,
though rusted, bars right by the front door. It continued to bark and snarl as
Sullivan got closer.

So much for the element of surprise.

***

The unmistakable sound of Daisy barking startled Paxton and Krys
in the basement. Who could that be? Had the USR finally gotten a beat on them?
Paxton dropped his bag and moved towards Young’s desk. Young pulled out a
shotgun and grabbed a box of shells.

“Joe?” Paxton said.

“You get out of here,” Young said. His eyes remained fixated on
the gun as he loaded shells into it. “Go now. I’ll take care of that gringo
upstairs.”

“We’re not leaving you here.” Krys said.

“I appreciate that, mami. I will fuck…I mean, thank you later.”

“You are such a…”

“No time for this,” Paxton barked. “Leave the bags; we’ve got to
move fast. Joe?”

“What?”

“Good luck.”

Young held the shotgun up to his chest. “I don’t need it.”

The sound of the footsteps from above inched their way to the
stairs. Daisy’s barking grew louder with each step. The intruder was getting
close. Paxton led Krys to the double wooden doors which led up to the alleyway
at the side of the building. There was no way of knowing whether or not there
would be an ambush awaiting them. It was a chance they had to take…the only
chance they had at escape was through those doors. Paxton gripped his Glock
with both hands and then drove his shoulder into the doors. They opened up
without much of a fight. Thank God Young never installed a Masterlock on the
doors. The old veteran popped his head out with his gun at the ready. No sign
of the feared ambush.

Paxton kept his gun trained in front of him while he awaited Krys.
Once she reached the top, she retrieved her P99 from the holster underneath her
jacket. The two moved forward, their guns drawn, and their pace urgent. When
they reached the end of the building, they flattened themselves against the
side. Paxton moved his head over the corner with caution. There were no sirens,
no Agents with machine guns blasting their way, nothing. What was going on?

With a hand signal, he motioned for Krys to move. She drew her P99
once more and moved towards the van. Once she made it safely, Paxton made a run
for it. He flung the driver’s side door open, ignited the engine, and then
floored the van forward.

“Make sure nobody follows us.” Paxton ordered.

Krys stared at the rear view mirror. “Already on it.”

***

Sullivan walked through the kitchen to a door that stood about a
quarter of the way open. They must be down there, he thought. He used his left
leg to move the door open the rest of the way. The hinges cried. His position
was already given away, though, thanks to the dog. He pressed his back against
the wooden wall to the right side of the stairs. Sullivan inched his way down,
his Glock 17 gripped with both hands.

He reached the bottom and stood still for a moment. He moved his
head along the wall to get a feel for his surroundings. There was nobody down
here anymore. Sullivan cursed the dog one last time. He moved his head out a
little further and saw a counter with no one behind it. Nothing behind it
except for the barrel of a shotgun…

Sullivan moved quickly back behind the wall. A blast from the
shotgun boomed through his eardrums while the buckshot ripped a hole in the
wall. Sullivan moved up before another wave of buckshot tore through the wall
again. He pointed his gun through the second hole then fired two blind shots.

“What’s up, Motherfucker?” Young cried out.

Young let loose another blast. The wall that once provided some
cover began to shrink. Sullivan moved up a couple of steps. He took in deep
breaths to try to slow down his heart rate. He had to think fast. The shells in
the shotgun wouldn’t last forever, but his target down those stairs had a full
arsenal available to him. Sullivan had to think of a way out of this…

One more blast from the shotgun tore through more of the wall.
Action needed to be taken and fast. He could not allow himself to be a sitting
duck for much longer. Sullivan inched himself down further and looked through
the now shattered wall. As he tried to get a better look at the shooter, he saw
the barrel of the gun again. The blast rang through the air. Sullivan cursed
himself again. Maybe he could talk him down.

“This is the USR! Cease fire and…” Sullivan was cut off by one
final shotgun blast.

“Fuck you!” Young cried. He pulled the shotgun down and started to
reload.

Sullivan blinked his eyes several times. He needed to make a
decision and fast. He used his ears. Over the barks, he heard the sound of
shells being loaded. If he was ever going to have a chance, this was it.

The Agent ran down the rest of the stairs then made a bee line
towards the gun racks in the center of the basement. Young pumped the handle
and then stood with a full shotgun again. Still out in the open, Sullivan
pointed his gun that direction and squeezed off two rounds. He slid the rest of
the way along the slick cement. Young fired off another shell. The boom, then
the clinging sound of buckshot hitting the metal guns, filled the room.

Sullivan scanned the weaponry in front of him as another shell was
fired off. He found several MP-5K’s hanging on a rack. Where did this guy get
his weapons from? He kept his head low and reached up for one of the submachine
guns. He pulled the magazine out to find that it was preloaded. Sullivan held
the MP-5K in his left hand with the Glock in his right.

There was another blast as Sullivan spun his back from behind the
rack. Young pumped the shotgun then ducked quickly when he saw the Agent.
Sullivan squeezed the trigger of the submachine gun. An automatic burst of 9MM
rounds narrowly missed their target. He spun back around and scanned the
weaponry once more.

Something caught his eye on the back rack to the far right. His
eyes grew wide at the sight of the grenades. Young fired again. Sullivan did a
roll to the rack beside him. It took him only seconds to find what he searched
for. He did not want to kill this man…not yet, anyway. He searched past the
frag grenades and took hold of a flash bang. He ignored another shotgun blast
and took hold of one of them. He moved back to cover.

Sullivan counted to three in his head. At three, he pulled the pin
and tossed it as hard as he could over his head. He covered his ears with his
hands. He kept his eyes shut. The flash bang exploded behind the counter. The
near unbearable ringing sound penetrated his hands. Young cried out from behind
the counter. There would not be much time before the grenade’s effects would
wear out.

With both guns drawn, Sullivan moved towards the counter. Once
behind it, he saw Young rub violently at his eyes while he writhed on the ground.

“Freeze!” Sullivan commanded.

He wanted to keep this man alive, but he caught a glimpse of Young
reaching for something behind him. The shotgun was dropped to the ground and
out of reach. Sullivan demanded that Young freeze one more time, but the gun runner
didn’t listen. A round fired from the Glock. It penetrated the left shoulder.
The reaching ceased.

“The fuck you want with me, ese?” Young cried.

“Take your gun,” Sullivan said. “And toss it over the counter.
Slowly.”

Young did as ordered. He took hold of the PPK-S from the small of
his back then tossed it over the counter with his good arm. Young struggled to
get himself upright. Sullivan placed the MP-5K on the counter, but kept his
Glock trained on the center of his target’s head. He knelt down, took hold of
the shotgun, and then tossed it over the counter.

There was a stool beside him. Sullivan grabbed it and moved it
towards Young. The gun runner picked himself up off the ground. He sat on the
stool and looked right into the muzzle of the gun pointed at his head. He
laughed.

Sullivan ignored the laughter. “Can you hear me?”

“The ringing is still pretty bad, homes.” Young replied. He put
pressure on his wounded shoulder. “But, I can hear you. What’s your beef with
me?”

“It’s simple,” Sullivan replied. “You’ve been supplying weaponry
to the resistance.”

“Right to the point, I like that. But, I’m afraid I don’t know
what you’re talking about.”

“Take a look at this,” Sullivan reached into his pocket. He pulled
out the baggie and tossed it at Young’s lap. “Armor piercing, standard USR
issue. I must know. Where do you get all these weapons from?”

“I got my connections. But, you can’t prove a fuckin’ thing and
you know it.”

“Prove what? I’ve already got you with this small arsenal down
here. I can toss this place, though, and find more, just like that. A simple
death sentence is going to get a lot more painful for you, ‘homes’.”

“You fuckin’ stupid.”

“Supplying weapons to the resistance? That’s a whole ‘nother ball
game than just selling to ordinary citizens, comprende?”

“Don’t you try and speak broken Spanish to me, gringo!”

“Oh,” Sullivan smirked, “did I offend my little Puerto Rican
friend?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck
me
? It looks like you’re the one who’s fucked here.”

“You can’t prove nothin’. You know how many arms friends I got?”

“Let me get something straight,” Sullivan said. He moved his face
closer to Young’s. “I can make it look like anything. Maybe you sold them
weapons, maybe not. But, I saw a black van outside with USR insignia on it. Just
like the one described at the scene of an Agent’s murder. If that’s the case,
you sold those rounds to the resistance, which led to the death of a decorated
Agent. I’d say you better start answering my questions right now. We can cut a
deal.”