Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1) (26 page)

Sullivan kept his gaze on the Puerto Rican. He could see the gun
runner was contemplating something. Sullivan just hoped that Young would come
out with it. Tell him where the resistance hideout was. Shit, he would settle
with just descriptions of what they looked like if Young didn’t know that. Young’s
eyes moved from the gun, to Sullivan, and then back.

“Okay,” Young said. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know who the resistance members are.” Sullivan replied.
“I want to know how I can find them.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

Sullivan fired a warning shot next to Young’s right ear. He
pointed the gun back at Young’s forehead.

“What?” Sullivan demanded.

“I don’t know who they are, bro. You know how many people come
into my shop? How am I supposed to know?”

“You never see anybody come through here who buys an unusual
amount of guns or ammo?”

“No, nothing unusual, you think the resistance is that stupid?”
Young asked.

Sullivan pressed on. “You better start giving me facts or make up
some names real fast. I am so far from fucking with you.”

Young bit his bottom lip. “How about…your mother?”

Sullivan let out a sarcastic laugh which drew laughter from Young.
He wanted with all his might to punch Young straight in the grill to wipe that
smile from his face. His eyes never leaving Young, Sullivan pulled out his
phone and started to punch in some numbers. He put the phone on speaker.

“Donald Fitzpatrick,” a voice said.

“Sir, its Will.”

“William, what are you up to?”

“My wife’s dead…” Sullivan replied. He regained his composure. “I
think it was the resistance trying to get to me.”

“Where are you now?”

“I’m in an old, trashed apartment in the alley of West Liberty.
I’ve got a high priority suspect in my custody.”

“William,” Fitzpatrick barked. “What are you trying to do?”

“I have to find them, sir. I don’t care what the Consul says or
does to me afterward. They killed my wife…”

“What do need from me?”

“Send back up units over here, ASAP. Take him in and get some
answers. He says anything, I’m the first to know, right?” Sullivan asked.

“Of course,” Fitzpatrick replied. “I’m sending backup units your
way, now. Just get out of there and let us do our jobs.”

Sullivan pressed the END button then placed the phone back in his
pocket. He looked to Young, who still had that grin on his face.

“You hear that? Backup’s on the way.”

“So what?”

“You really don’t know who the resistance members are do you?”
Sullivan asked one final time.

“None whatsoever.”

“I’m not buying your bullshit, you hear me? You have one last chance.
Once those black and whites roll in here it’s going to be mucho trouble for
you. I won’t be able to stop them.”

“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’. I ain’t scare of them, you, or nobody.
Let them come and get me, you’ll see.”

“Have it your way.”

Sirens wailed over the sound of the still barking dog. Sullivan
pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his belt. He slapped the cuffs on Young
then led the gun runner upstairs. When they walked past the dog, Young said
something to it.

Once outside, a sea of USR Agents flooded the alleyway. When
Sullivan handed Young off to the Agents on scene, Young looked back. Sullivan
could not be sure with the sunlight beaming in his eyes, but he thought he saw
something. It was a smile straight from Young’s lips as he was being escorted
into the squad car. It was not that smug smile he had seen before. More like an
‘I beat you’ smile.

What was going on?

Paxton walked into The Committee’s Chamber and saw only Pat
Roberson seated at the stage. When Paxton called this emergency meeting, his
expectation was that they all would be here. Krys waited outside in the lobby.
Against his better judgment, Paxton drove straight here from Young’s shop once
he was sure that they were not being followed. Roberson was sure to no
appreciate that, either.

“Mr. Paxton,” Roberson called from the stage, “what can I do for
you today?”

“Where are the others?” Paxton asked.

“They are attending to other matters.”

“Fair enough. I’m sure you heard the news by now.”

“What news do you speak of?” Roberson chewed on his bottom lip
before speaking again. “The news where you shot up an apartment or the news of
you losing your dealer?”

Sarcasm, Paxton thought, just great.

“The news of Joe Young being arrested.” Paxton replied.

“I knew that, I was being facetious.”

“Sir, I…”

“Hold it.” Roberson said. He took off his glasses and wiped the
lenses with a white cloth. “You’ve become reckless, Mr. Paxton. Our patience
with you and that crew of yours is growing thin. How’s the new guy coming along?”

“Just fine,” Paxton replied. “Sir, we need to talk about finding a
new dealer.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Sir…”

“You’ve just cost us a valuable asset in this war, one that will
not be easily replaced…if at all.”

“I’m sure there are others…”

“You’re not listening,” Roberson cut in, slamming his fist on the
table. “We can’t do anything for you right now. No quick fixes this time, I’m
afraid.”

“What are we supposed to do, then?” Paxton demanded.

“Have you considered laying low for a while, until we can find you
someone else?”

“Sir, laying low is not what I do. You know that.”

“Far too well, I’m afraid. You lost Boler, our contact within the
USR. Now, within a matter of days, you lose Young, too? That is unacceptable,
soldier.”

“You see what’s going on out there, don’t you?” Paxton pleaded.
“And, you expect me just to tell my people to lay low? Don’t worry about it for
a while?”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Roberson replied. “We are in
a guerilla war here, son, and because of that, we must choose our battles with
wisdom. That is something you have failed to do since…well, since almost minute
one. How much weaponry do you have at the moment?”

“We’ve got enough to get us by, for the moment, anyway. But, we
are going to need another supplier.”

“Good, you can sit on that while we try to work something out.
Anything else?”

“No, sir.”

Paxton saluted Roberson; even though that was one of the last
things he wanted to do at the moment. He did not get a salute back. The old
veteran turned his back on Roberson and walked for the doors. What a waste of
precious time. He would never understand Roberson. Did the politician not
realize that they were at war? Sure, Roberson was pretty good at throwing the
word around, but he didn’t understand the costs. He never fought in an actual
battle like Paxton and so many others in this new war did. In war, you did what
was necessary to win. You cleaned up the mess after you won.

“Mr. Paxton,” Roberson called out. “I didn’t dismiss you, yet.”

Roberson cleared his throat. When Paxton turned, his boss motioned
with his right hand for him to return to the podium. Paxton obeyed the gesture.
What next?

“Have you talked with your tech guy, lately?” Roberson asked.

“Yes,” Paxton replied. “He said that you guys sent him something.
He’s been trying to hack in ever since. Why?”

“Well, that item we sent might have larger implications that we
originally anticipated. Has he had any success?”

“No, sir, he’s trying his best.”

“We might have a way to get the information we need.”

“Really?” Paxton asked, his curiosity now piqued.

“Yes, but it is going to require your team to infiltrate a USR
precinct in order to get it. After hours, of course. You’ll have to download it
straight from one of their hard drives.”

Paxton folded his arms across his chest. “You’re joking, right?”

“Afraid not. But, you can do it, it is possible. Staffing is light
after hours; budget concerns. Infiltrate the building. Download the files. It’s
the only way. Mr. Clarke is good, but I’m afraid this is beyond his skill, its
serious business. Can I count on you?”

“Why is this so serious?”

“We think it might have something to do with the water supply, but
we can’t know for sure until you download those files. Again, can I count on
you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Roberson said. “And, please, for all that is good and just
don’t make a big scene out of this. You’ve been on the TV far too much
recently.”

“We’ll try not to, sir. Am I dismissed?”

“Yes, you are. Good hunting.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The two old men saluted each other. Paxton lowered his arm then
turned for the door. On his way out, he could hear Roberson standing up from
his chair and walking out. Krys was outside the door when Paxton opened it,
eagerly awaiting his presence. She was chewing at the end of her hair.

“That’s a filthy habit.” Paxton said.

“Look who’s talking,” Krys replied. “What’s the word?”

“We’ve got to fend for ourselves as far as weapons are concerned.”

Krys sighed. “That’s good news.”

“It gets even better,” Paxton said. He grabbed at her shoulder.
“You have to infiltrate a USR building tonight.”

***

Paxton applied the brake on the USR van inside the Precinct 28
parking garage. He left the engine running just in case. The van would not be
much of a disguise if an Agent came snooping around, asking too many questions,
but it would do for now. He didn’t expect Krys to be in there very long in any
case. The 28 was chosen because of the multiple escape routes available to Paxton
should they need one.

Since this particular mission dealt with computers, Clarke
insisted on joining them this time. Once again, Paxton played the role of heart
breaker. He explained that Krys was very good at infiltration. All she would
have to do once inside was turn over control to Clarke. He could do that from
the safety of the safe house.

Kaspar sat at the back of the van, his mask off, it rested on his
shaking knee. He did not like this mission one bit. Sending Krys into a USR
building, no matter how lightly guarded, all by herself? Did they want her dead?
He watched as Krys threw on her mask, eager to get out there, to get on with
what Kaspar hoped would not be a suicide mission. Why not send everyone in? He
cared nothing for Paxton’s explanation that it would draw too much attention.
His only care, at the present moment, was for Krys’s safety.

“Robert,” Paxton said into his mouth piece, “we’re in position.”

“All right, John,” Clarke said through the ear piece. “Just give
me a few more seconds.”

“Move your ass.”

Back at the safe house, Clarke typed away at a lightening pace. He
clicked his mouse around at several items. He reached the 28’s security system
and his typing resumed. He reached over for a handkerchief and wiped away the
beads of sweat that began to form on his forehead. Clarke then managed to fully
hack into the security system after what felt like forever. He clicked around
on each of the security monitors and sent each of them looping pictures of
empty hallways and corridors. Clarke made the real images available to him on
the second of his three monitors.

“Good to go.” Clarke said.

“What’s security like outside the building?” Paxton asked.

“Alarm systems are offline. I’ve unlocked the electronic locks on
all the side doors. Come on, John, you know me better than that.”

“Good work,” Paxton said. “Keep Krys informed.”

“Will do.”

“Krys,” Paxton said. He turned to face her covered face. “You’re
on.”

“Yes, sir.” Krys replied.

Krys moved back to the double doors and swung them open. She
pulled out her silenced P99 to inspect it. As she did, she felt someone grab
her by the arm. She turned and looked to Kaspar through her tinted lenses.

“You be careful,” Kaspar said.

“Don’t worry about me,” Krys said. She moved her arm from Kaspar’s
grasp. “I’ll be fine.”

Krys shut the double doors behind her. She took a deep breath then
moved with a quick yet quiet pace out of the parking garage. She arrived at the
target building. With her back pressed against the cool concrete, she moved
sideways and turned the corner. Around the corner there was a side door that
led to the main offices. One of those offices was for the archives.

“Robby,” Krys whispered into the mouthpiece under her mask.

“Hold on a sec,” Clarke replied.

Clarke scanned the security monitors on his second computer
screen. He saw two guards patrolling at the moment, but none of them were in
position to catch Krys enter the building. There was one, however, who held a
submachine gun posted in front of the door.

“You’ve got one bogey,” Clarke’s voice said. “He’s posted right in
front of that door.”

“Copy.” Krys replied.

Krys started to grow anxious when Clarke didn’t say another word
for a moment. She started to scan the area with her eyes, awaiting a guard that
was unseen to him to take her out. Her hands began to shake a bit with the
increase in her heart rate. She kept her silenced pistol below her waist,
gripped with both gloved hands, her right index finger rested on the trigger.

She couldn’t take the silence any longer. “Robby?”

“He’s still there.” Clarke said.

Clarke kept his focus on the guard in front of the door. He tried
to keep track of all the other feeds, but his main priority right now was that
door. The guard stood with barely any movement. The only movement he made was
to put his hand in front of his mouth while he yawned. That was good: he was
tired from boredom.

Back in the van, Kaspar’s nerves started to get the better of him.
He pleaded one final time for Paxton to let them all go in, but his request was
ignored. So he sat back, hands gripped to his PSD, listening with intent to his
ear piece.

Come on, Kaspar thought to himself. Move, you son of a bitch.

Clarke watched as the guard looked to his left then to his right.
The guard then moved down the hallway. Clarke was about to give the order for
Krys to move in, but he paused. The guard looked back over his shoulder one
last time. Clarke tapped at his lips with his fingers while he watched. He
waited. The guard turned and opened a door. It shut behind him. No time to wait
any longer. It was now or never…

“Clear.” Clarke said.

Krys slid the silver door handle down and walked through the door.
She entered the lobby with her gun drawn. She did a quick sweep from left to
right then headed for the archives. Her feet made little sound under a quick
but steady pace. She pressed her back against the end of the wall, the men’s
restroom located to her immediate left. Around the corner was the hallway which
led to the archives. She needed to reach the last door to the left. She moved
her covered head around the corner to get a good look at the hall. Nobody was
posted there.

“Get moving!” Clarke shouted. “Your bogey is coming out of the
restroom!”

The door creaked open. The guard walked out, looked to his left
and his right and saw nobody. He moved back to his post in front of the door,
yawning as he did.

Krys’s heart rate picked up as she moved down the hallway. She
caught a brief glimpse of the guard when he walked out. She was lucky to be
alive and she knew it. Her pace quickened as a result. With her silenced pistol
at her waist, she kept her eyes peeled and ears glued to the ear piece. She
reached the last door to the left. It read “ARCHIVES” in bold, black letters
against the glass. Krys reached for the door handle. When she was inside, she
made sure the door was shut as little sound as possible.

After a brief sigh of relief, Krys moved to the main computer in
the back of the room. She wheeled the chair back, took a seat, and then moved the
mouse. The USR insignia overtook the computer screen.

“Okay,” Krys said. “I’m in.”

“Good,” Clarke replied. “Now, do exactly what I say.”

“I’m all ears. Just keep your eyes on those bogies.”

Clarke began to bark out instructions. After following his orders,
Krys could see the mouse pointer move on its own. She always wondered how Clarke
pulled off what was like magic to her. How he could remote link his computer to
another one miles away like it was just another day at the office. She spun the
chair around with her pistol in both hands, pointed at the door, ready to fire
if anybody had the misfortune of walking in.