She Is Risen (She Is Risen: The Gun Control Case Studies) (24 page)

            “Where’s your mom, son?” Devlin asks
compassionately, looking the young boy in the face, as he admires his gentle
brown eyes and short, curly hair.

            “Oh, this is some bullshit! You mind your
business, Sir!” The driver commands with a look of repressed rage.

            “Shut the fuck up… This IS MY BUSINESS!” Devlin
replies, giving the man a hard look. 

            “He’s not bad if he isn’t drinking…” The boy
says in a quiet manner, turning his head to the side to show a small bloody cut
from the brief beating he received.

            “Why don’t we let your uncle enjoy his beer and
we’ll go get you some dinner and call your mom?” Devlin asks with a confident
gaze.

            “You ain’t takin’ my nephew nowhere, Sir!” The
man says with an obnoxiously loud voice, consistent with too much drinking.

            “Come on, get out of the car.” Devlin says
immediately, pulling the door open to let the young man out.  “I promise I’m a
good guy, and I’ll get you back to your mom.”

            The young man steps out of the car onto the
sidewalk, hesitating with each step, and looking up at Devlin with distrust. 

            “Get your ass back in the car!” The older man
yells, opening his door and getting out of the driver seat, staggering in a bit
of shameful protest on the street.

            “There are two ways this ends.” Devlin says with
a sinister gaze.  “Either you leave and see your nephew again when you’re
sober, or I whoop your ass, and leave you here to be picked up for a DUI.”

            The older man weighs out his options for a
moment, then waves at Devlin dismissively, slamming the door as he gets back into
the car and starts the engine.

            “Don’t you come back, boy; your momma can’t take
care of ya’ anyhow!” The man shouts as the noisy, unkempt car merges quickly
into traffic.

            “No worries,” Devlin says with a wink, “we’ll
get you some food and call your mom.  I promise.”

            The twelve-year-old is short for his age.  He
looks up at Devlin with a streetwise fear, but seems calm enough to walk beside
him.  They make good progress walking side by side as Devlin keeps him talking,
asking him about school, his mother, and what he wants to be when he grows up. 

            When they reach the duplex, Devlin opens the
door, turns on the light, and gestures for the young man to step inside.  He
stands at the entrance of the small home like a wild creature looking into a
deep, dark cave.  The young man is wearing a blue Levi jacket, black and yellow
striped shirt, and a pair of white cargo pants.  His feet look small in the
youth basketball shoes as they tread softly over the carpet of the duplex, and
he makes his way into the living room. 

            “It’s not the greatest place.” Devlin admits as
he closes the door behind them, feeling genuinely embarrassed.  “But it’s home
for now.” 

            He looks down at his young friend with a
pleasant smirk, watching him take in the new surroundings and wondering where
this place falls on his scale of decent to trashy.  The young man glances at
the television for a few seconds, then at the coffee table, and finally leans
over a bit to see into the kitchen. 

            “Why don’t we clean up that cut on your face and
give your mom a call?” Devlin asks as he kneels down to look the boy in the
face.

            As the two lock eyes, the young man reaches out
and wraps his arms around Devlin’s neck, seeming desperate for affection. 
Devlin smiles and hugs the young man in return, patting him on the back to let
him know that everything is going to be okay.  After this short embrace, Devlin
stands up tall again and gestures toward the hallway where a door leads to the
small bathroom.  The boy walks pensively across the carpet, dragging his feet a
bit as he goes. 

            Once they reach the bathroom, Devlin flips on
the light and points toward the toilet.

            “Go ahead and have a seat.” Devlin says as he
begins to look through the medicine cabinet for rubbing alcohol and some cotton
balls.  “Do you have your mom’s phone number?”

            “Yes, Sir.  She works late, but she might
answer…”  The young man replies nervously, taking a seat on the closed lid of
the toilet.

            “No need to be nervous…” Devlin says, feeling
suddenly dizzy; his heart pounding with thunderous energy as if he were
sprinting at top speed.  “I don’t feel so great…” He says slowly, falling to
his left against the bathroom sink, taking a bottle of cologne and other
toiletries to the floor with him.

            Devlin lands sideways on the bathroom tiles,
feeling the cold flooring beneath him as his heart rate continues to increase. 
He stares at the obscure patterns in the wood of the bathroom cabinets for a
moment, waiting for his life to end.  After a few seconds, his heart rate slows
down, and he forces himself to his feet, but then falls immediately to the
floor again.  His face just misses the young man’s shoes as his body drops to
the tile; this time on his right side.

            “What the fuck did you give me?” Devlin asks
breathlessly, reaching up under his long blonde hair to find a microdot on the
back of his neck.

            “I don’t know, dude.  These people showed up
while we was playin’ basketball and offered my uncle two grand.  They said you
shot up a mall today, or somethin’… and needed my help to catch you.”  The
young man says as he pulls out a stun gun from his pocket, bearing a face of
paranoia, and steps carefully into the tub at his left.

            “I’m not the bad guy…” Devlin mutters as his
heart begins to pound again and his vision fades. 

The OBDAT – Chicago

            “Just under an hour of prep work and Voila.”
Lorabell says with a smile, listening to the transmission from the young man’s
earpiece.

            “Impressive.” Henri says with a relieved
expression.  “How did we get the uncle to play the part?”

            “They weren’t acting.” Lorabell replies
caustically.  “There was no mother.  The boy and uncle live alone in a shitty
little shack near downtown.  Agent Chavez spotted them at a basketball court. 
The uncle was drunk in his car, parked by the side of the road, yelling at the
boy like he always does.”

            “No acting?  I like it!  Are we compromised?”
Henri asks with a satisfied grin.

            “Nope,” Lorabell answers with a reassuring
expression, “Chavez gave the boy a headset and some instructions on how to hug
someone, and to place the microdot.  Then Razor gave the uncle driving directions,
and continued to relay instructions through headsets.  We ran the op completely
through radio, and now… You’ve got your big fish.”

            “Thank you, Cardigan.” Henri beams with
confidence. “Now we can work in peace, which is good because I am not partial
to chloramine poisoning…  Don’t tell Mason that we have Devlin in custody. 
I’ll deal with him my own way.”

            “Sir, about Julia Welheim…” Lorabell begins with
a guilty expression and flat tone.  “I didn’t mean for her to die… We could
have stopped the suicide if Devlin hadn’t attacked us.”

            “Don’t worry about it, sweet lady.” Henri says
with kind eyes, putting his right hand on her left shoulder.  “Just focus on
the mission at hand, and stop thinking about things that are outside of your
control.  We need to get those numbers for The President.  You’re doing a great
thing for this country!”

If I live past Thursday, then I
will find a way to bring the roof down on their heads.  The CIA, NSA, and FBI
will all be coming to collect my head, and if I die before the truth comes out,
may God forgive me for the things I’ve done.  My name is Devlin McConnelly,
former counterinsurgency expert, and Colonel in the United States Army,
recently recruited by the CIA in the private sector after serving my eight
years. 

One thing the world needs to
know from all this death and deception is that Henri Edwards is an evil man. 
Although I am not religious, I can swear that I have seen the Devil, and I know
his capacity to do terrible things.  For the past few months, our teams have
been performing a series of exercises to develop case studies for gun violence,
tracking the activities of various people, and learning their hot buttons for
violent behavior.  During these exercises, I saw some disturbing things take place,
and I’m sure if I had further details, it would be even more disturbing. 

            I will be attempting to expose the corporate
secrets behind Henri Edwards North America; also known as H.E.N.A.  While I do
know that the man himself is evil; I still don’t know what his agenda is with
these exercises.  Mr. Edwards has a direct line to The President.  He has
dominant support in The House of Congress, and as The Speaker of the House, he
has the freedom and power to move mountains within days.  If I succeed in my
mission to expose this evil house of cards, force them all to show their hand,
everyone will be able to breathe easier.  I pray for the safety of my wife and
family. 

            Whoever may find this letter after I am gone;
please take care of my love, Yulia McConnelly.  I love you so much, my dear,
and I am sorry for the things that have happened these past few days.  Please
stay strong, my love.  I have stumbled my way into the lion’s den, and now I
don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.  If I die, please do not try to
investigate, just move on, and be safe.  We’ll meet again, I promise.

                                    Love,

                                    -Devlin McConnelly.

                                    Colonel, United States Army.     

            “Now that’s a very touching letter; I must
admit.”  The Congressman says with a look of resentment in his eyes, leaning
back a bit.  “Do you really need to call me ‘The Devil’ after all this?  I
mean, hell, we barely know each other.”

      Henri rolls his left hand
into a tight fist, then gently folds the letter, and returns it to his jacket
pocket as he straightens his six-foot, four-inch frame. A wicked smile forms as
he releases his hands, letting his fingers dangle lazily down near the hem of
his sleek, black designer pants. His face shines with radiance under the
expensive lighting of the formal Federal Government office, contrasting heavily
with his expensive black suit.

            “I’m pleased to have you here tonight, Devlin,” Henri
begins with a cold stare from his pale blue eyes, running his fingers gently
over his graying hair, “you really are a dog of war, aren’t you?  But you’re in
my house now, and we’ve have more security in this building than you’ll see
anywhere within ten miles.  If you want to try the stunt you pulled back at
that mall, they’ll have to use an industrial magnet to get all the lead out of
your body that these boys can shell out.” 

            Henri glares down at Devlin as the young man
kneels on the floor gasping for breath.  His right eye and lip are badly cut
from a beating courtesy of Henri’s security team just moments ago.  He looks up
at Henri from the floor, his soft blue eyes showing that he has the desire to
fight, but not the strength.

Devlin is half-slumped over,
gasping for breath.  He is dressed in a formal white shirt, a blue and peach
striped silk tie, and dark gray slacks.  The white shirt shows off Devlin’s
muscular frame with strands of long, blonde hair hanging halfway down his back
over the pristine cotton.  He wipes some blood from the side of his mouth as he
listens to Henri from his position on the floor, being careful not to smudge
the shirtsleeve.

“You’ve left one hell of a trail of
carnage; a mess The President will be expecting me to cleanup.  I really don’t
appreciate how you crucified my agent and left him naked on the break room
table either…”

“What the hell are you talking
about?” Devlin asks with fiery eyes, staring at the Congressman as though he is
a shark out of water.  “I didn’t crucify anyone…”

“Bullshit, son, if you’re going to
judge me for MY sins, then let’s both be honest about OUR sins!” Henri demands
with a passionate and twisted sense of honor.  “You took my agent down,
bludgeoned him with a mop handle, and crucified his naked body on our break room
table by sticking two screwdrivers through his hands.  That’s pretty damn sick,
Devlin!”

“I took him out,” Devlin begins,
shaking his head in disagreement, “but I covered his body in garbage bags and
carted it to the break room.  Then I just uncovered it and left it on the table
for your agents to find... With some decoded messages.”

“So you’re just a white knight in
all this?” Henri asks with a discriminate gaze, wanting Devlin to acknowledge
that he is just as dirty.  “I saw the body, Devlin, no one else in the building
would have done that.  Why can’t you just admit that you brought back some head
trauma from Iraq?”

“I killed the man!” Devlin says
with frustration, wiping more blood from the side of his mouth.  “But I’ve
never crucified anyone in my life.  You need to look deeper into that… if it’s
true.”

“Are you saying that you didn’t try
to poison me and my team with a deadly concoction of ammonia and bleach?” Henri
inquires with a troubled expression.

“No, I don’t deny that,” Devlin
admits with subdued hatred, “unfortunately it probably killed some people who
didn’t deserve to die, and left you… to exploit the world.”

The Congressman looks at Devlin for
a moment, half believing that he’s telling the truth.  He rubs his fingers hard
against his temples as he contemplates this, watching the younger man carefully
for any signs falseness.    

            “It’s funny to think,” Henri declares with a
smirk, showing a few wrinkles on his clean shaven face, “here you are on the
end of a losing battle, trying to fight History in the making. And yet… you’re
a good man, Devlin.  I’ve got to hand it to you; you’ve really become an apple
pie and honest-to-God husband.  The only problem is… you don’t know how to
manage your paper trail, and you don’t know how to manage your anger.”

            Henri kneels down and winks at Devlin, putting
one knee on the soft, red carpet as he continues talking face to face.

            “It’s funny to think,” Henri repeats, rolling
his tongue over his teeth, “of all the vile shit I’ve stuffed down inside of me
that they can’t see… People feel safe having me in their homes; they trust me
with their deepest secrets, and give me their hard-earned money.  Every day I
ask myself, Devlin, do these blind sheep have any idea what type of alpha wolf
I am?  Do they know that I don’t value anything above my desire to succeed? 
That I would tear them to pieces if they got between me and my goals?”

            Henri smiles and shakes his head for a moment,
the bright lights shining on his forehead under his silver hair.

            “But you know what I am… You caught me pissing
on a tree in the forest, about to do my dirty deed.  It’s sad that you’ve done
such a poor job managing your paper trail.  With two felonies, Devlin, I could
lock you up in the deepest darkest pit in these United States.  No one would
miss you; not a convicted felon with a history of violence.  It would just be
business as usual.  Goodbye baseball husband and apple pie.  Hello playtime in
the showers.  Three strikes… and you’re out.  You see, it doesn’t matter that you’ve
changed, Devlin, or that you’re a ‘good man. ‘  The American people only
believe your paper trail… and my paper trail.”

            “I guess your paper trail is easy to manage when
you’re victimizing someone who can’t see your face!” Devlin snaps back in a threatening
tone, eyeing the older man like a cobra watching a mouse urinate in his nest.

            These words cause a shiver to flow through
Henri’s body, and his stomach begins to burn with guilt, feeling a sudden need
to leave the room.  He stands up slowly and adjusts his suit, being sure he
looks good enough to make an appearance, checking his clothing and skin
carefully for any blood.

            “When I come back here, Devlin, we’re going to
get you ready for an assignment in Mexico.  With your felonies, and recent appetite
for violence, you’ll be a great subject for my gun control lottery.  In the
meantime, you should be thinking about how you’re going to impress me, and
whether you want prison showers in your future… or apple pie.”

            Henri stares into Devlin’s eyes for a moment,
ensuring his threat hits home, and then he turns his attention to the door
where his security agent is waiting to escort him.  He squeezes his eyes a bit
with irritation, smiling wide as he walks with a brisk stride to the door, his
long legs making him appear wholesome and ready to lead.  One agent steps out
of the office with Henri while the other stays behind with Devlin, closing the
door to keep him contained.