| Subject: Redemption 4 |
Author:
Rox
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Date Posted: 13:08:28 12/16/01 Sun
In reply to:
Rox
's message, "Redemption (Sequel to Mea Culpa)" on 20:54:56 12/13/01 Thu
* * *
“Well, here it is, home sweet home.” Nikita opened the door to the safe house and entered with Brandon in her wake. “I hope you like fried chicken.”
“It’s a favorite of mine.” Brandon smiled as he stepped into the kitchen. “It smells great.”
“Have a seat.”
“Need any help?”
Nikita shook her head. “It’s all ready, all I have to do is heat it up a bit.” At least she hoped so. But Madeline had performed as promised -- an entire meal was waiting only to be served.
“Hey, you have a fireplace. Want a fire?”
“Sure. It’ll take the chill off. You want some wine?”
“No, thanks. Got any milk?”
Another surprise! Nikita made a quick check of the refrigerator before answering, “Yes.”
They finished off the meal with cherry pie, another Brandon favorite. Seated on the floor, he sighed and rested his head against the back of the couch. “That was terrific. I’ve haven’t eaten like that since I left home.”
“Glad you liked it. I take it your Mom is a good cook?” Nikita asked finishing off her milk.
“Yeah, she was,” Brandon returned quietly. “She died when I was twelve.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” And Nikita was surprised that she really was sorry. Both fell silent for several minutes.
“Nikita.”
“Yes?”
“Yesterday, you said you killed a cop.” He looked up at her with vivid blue eyes.
Nikita dropped her eyes, then nodded.
“But you didn’t do it, did you?” Brandon wrapped one arm around his drawn-up knee and leaned forward, giving her his full attention.
Sudden tears flooded Nikita’s eyes. His question had been more of a statement than a question. No one, not even Michael, had ever believed in her innocence, and yet, here was Brandon…
Nikita shook her head to answer him, unable to speak for the tears. She looked over at him as if to ask how he knew, and understanding he answered, “You’re too good to have done something like that.”
It was too much. Nikita began to sob uncontrollably.
“Oh, Nikita. Don’t cry; I’m sorry!” He scooted over to her and awkwardly tried to put his arms around her.
“No b-body would believe me! No one!” She sobbed against his shoulder. “He was already dead -- t-this guy was there. He had the knife… tried to kill me too. He heard the sirens… and I managed to get the knife… and he ran away.”
“I know, it’s okay.” Brandon stroked her hair.
After several minutes Nikita stopped crying, suddenly feeling very foolish. She was here to get Brandon to talk, not the other way around. Madeline was going to kill her!
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed. “I don’t know why I did that.” She quickly wiped her eyes on the backs of her sleeves.
“I do.” He let her go and scooted back to where he had been sitting.
“I didn’t kill a cop either,” he said dully.
“What?” Again Nikita was surprised.
“My mother’s brother, Joey, did it. I don’t know if he meant to or it was just an accident. They were out drunk one night, Uncle Joey and a couple of others. My cousin Todd begged me to say I did it. I was only 14, and he told me since I was a kid, they wouldn’t do anything to me.”
“And your Uncle let them believe you did it?”
“He had a family, Nikita -- a wife, a son. He was my Mama’s only kin. I thought it would be all right -- I thought I’d get to be with my Dad.”
“Your father?”
“Daddy’s in prison for killing the men who killed my Mama.”
“What happened?”
“Mama came home from shopping and walked in on a burglary -- gang members looking for stuff they could hock for drugs. They raped her and cut her throat.”
“Oh, Brandon. I’m so sorry.” Nikita reached out and took his hand.
“It’s over and done with. I know Mama’s in heaven. That makes things easier for me.”
“But now you’re in Section. They won’t ever let you leave. They think you did it, and you’ve acted so tough, everybody just assumed… ”
“My brother told me to act tough if I wanted to keep from being -- you know… ” His face flushed red. “He’s in the Army, and he taught me Tae Kwon Do.”
“What’s your brother’s name?”
“Ross.”
“Didn’t you tell your brother you were innocent?”
“Yeah, but not until after they put me in prison.”
“Brandon, what about being a Neo-Nazi? Is that true?”
“Yes.” His sad expression changed to grim. “But I’m not proud of it.”
“Why did you join then?” Nikita felt him pull away from her.
“I joined because the men that killed Mama were black. They were scum!” His voice broke before he could regain control of it. “They had been arrested before -- more than once -- but they always got off because they were ‘black’! They should have been in prison! If they had, Mama would be alive, and Daddy wouldn’t be on death row!”
“Brandon… ”
”Nikita, I have to go back to Section now.” Upset, he pushed himself to his feet.
“It’s late. You can stay here if you want to.” Nikita stood up beside him.
“No. I have to get back. It wouldn’t be right for me to sleep here. You might get into trouble. You’re the only friend I have now.” He hesitated for a moment. “You are my friend, aren’t you, Nikita?”
Nikita answered him by wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close.
“Yes. For as long as you want me.”
* * *
Madeline was furious, as Nikita knew she would be.
“We got a nice life story last night, Nikita, but very little else! I told you to focus on the problem at hand!”
“I couldn’t figure a way to turn the conversation to the Nazis; I’m sorry. Maybe tonight.”
“There won’t be a tonight. It’s perfectly obvious this isn’t going anywhere.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Brandon’s a liability we can no longer afford to waste time on.”
“You mean you’re going to cancel him?”
“That’s always been the case.”
“No! Madeline -- you are overlooking an opportunity here. Why not just ask Brandon to help us? I think he would if approached right.”
“You have a suggestion?”
“Madeline, give me one day to figure out how to approach him. Twelve hours -- and if I get him to help, I want your promise that he won’t be canceled.”
* * *
“Pan left, Michael,” Birkoff requested through Michael’s ear-com. A tiny hidden camera built into Michael’s sunglasses gave Birkoff a close-up of several men dressed in military camouflaged uniforms. Using the Section computer, Birkoff scanned them for possible police or military records.
“Man… ” Birkoff muttered aloud as he looked at the data.
“What is it, Birkoff?” Snapped Operations, standing nearby.
“Everyone Michael’s scanning is coming up -- there’s ex-military, doctors, lawyers, ex-cops, a few blue collar workers, some bikers… ” Birkoff frowned. “I thought these guys were all Joe-Six-Pack types.”
Operations frowned and leaned down to get a better look at Birkoff’s screen. “It’s part of their cover. They let the media think they are all disgruntled high-school dropouts with beer-belly mentalities. Reality is much scarier. The truth is, most of these men, at one time or another, would have willingly died for their country. For reasons that are quite complex when examined, all of them feel betrayed by the nation they loved. Actually, I take that back. They still love their country -- but they hate its government.”
“But why?”
“Why?” Operations sighed and sat on the edge of Birkoff’s desk. “The world’s changing, and they don’t like the direction it’s headed in. They grew up in a time when ‘Duty, Honor, Country’ meant something, only to be spit on when they returned from a war defending those same ideals. Some fear their country is losing its sovereignty, others fear the ideas of other countries are subverting the traditions they grew up with. Fear begets hatred, which begets violence.” Operations sounded wistful, and Birkoff lifted his head to look at him.
“Sir? You talk as if you know these guys.”
Operations removed himself from Birkoff’s desk. “I served with a lot of them in Viet Nam.” He pocketed his hands and walked away, but not before tossing over his shoulder in his usual, menacing tone, “Get me a list of all the men you identify on site.”
* * *
“Brandon?”
“Hmm? He lay on Nikita’s couch, watching television.
“If I could get you out of Section, where would you go?”
He cocked his head at her. “What makes you think I want to leave Section?”
“You like Section?” This boy was full of surprises! She rested her head on her hand, her elbow propped up against the couch near Brandon’s head.
He shrugged. “It beats prison.”
“But what about life on the outside?”
“What about it? I’ve been in prison since I was 15. I don’t know what ‘outside’ is like any more.”
“But you have a brother. Wouldn’t you want to be with him, if you could?”
“He has his life. He doesn’t need me hanging around.”
Nikita fell silent for several minutes. It had never occurred to her or anyone, she realized, that Brandon might not want his freedom. This supposed easy assignment was turning into anything but! Nikita began to worry. If she couldn’t get Brandon to give her something soon, his life would be over.
“Brandon, what do you see as your future in Section One?”
“What do you mean?” He asked, turning his entire attention to her face.
“Well, you said you prefer it to freedom.”
Brandon sat completely upright, crossing his legs Indian fashion. “I hardly know how to explain it, but being in Section, even this short while… it’s like being part of something important. When I was on trial for the murder of the policeman, his wife asked the judge if she and her two children could address me in court. She stood in front of me, and I was expecting her full hatred. I was prepared for being screamed at, but she didn’t.”
His blue eyes were tear-filled and regretful as he explained, “She forgave me. She said she’d pray for me.”
“But there was nothing to forgive, Brandon. You didn’t do it,” Nikita reminded him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder..
“But there was, Nikita. I helped kill her husband by agreeing to cover for the man who did. I helped kill him because I was silent. Sure my Uncle has a wife and son, but that cop had a wife and kids too. I used to justify what Uncle Joey did, because of those men who killed Mama, but I can’t do that anymore. So the cop was black, so what? His kids cried for him, just like I cried for my Mama. And now, I’m in Section One, and I have a chance to do something about stopping stuff like this from happening to other people. Can you understand that?”
Nikita let out a long sigh. “Yes, I can. Brandon… ” She paused to choose her words carefully. “I need to tell you something important, and I hope it won’t upset you -- I asked you here tonight to test you for the Section. It’s something all operatives have to go through.”
Hoping she wasn’t going to face cancellation herself for what she was about to reveal, Nikita moved to sit next to Brandon on the couch.
“What kind of test?” he asked in surprise.
“A loyalty test -- and it’s over, and you passed.”
“You mean I’m a full operative now?”
“Well, not yet. There is a mission, a very important mission ongoing at the moment that you’ve been chosen by the Section to help with.”
“What is it?”
“It has to do with the Neo-Nazi group you used to belong to.” Nikita paused to let that sink in and gauge his reaction.
“What do you need to know?”
“Was your group interested in obtaining a nuclear device of any kind?”
“Nukes? Well, it was talked about, but that’s all it ever was.”
“What if I told you… ” Nikita sucked in a breath, knowing without doubt that Madeline was online listening and having a bout of apoplexy, “that the group you belonged to has stolen a tactical nuclear device and is planning on using it.”
Brandon frowned. “Where would they get… ” He stopped mid sentence, his face a mask of horror, then answered his own unfinished question, “Ross.”
“We don’t know for sure, but is it possible? Could Ross be involved?”
“Yes… no… I don’t know!” He was flustered at the question.
“Brandon, this is important -- yes or no?”
“He used to talk about it sometimes. Ross said the militia would never make anyone listen to them unless they had an advanced weapon, either nuclear or biological.”
“Did he ever say how he’d use such a weapon?”
“If I tell you, will the Section kill him?” Brandon asked fearfully.
“They’ll kill him if he tries to use the bomb, Brandon. You can save him, if we can get the bomb back before he uses it.”
“He talked about a place called Crystal Palace. He said it was the key to the national defense. He said a well-placed nuke could put it out of business.”
“Crystal Palace?” Nikita repeated aloud.
Almost instantly, Birkoff’s voice replied, “He’s referring to NORAD at Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado. Operations says to ask him where they intended to place the bomb.”
“How was Ross going to place the bomb? Walk in with it?” asked Nikita, obeying.
“No. He said he’d place it in an old mining shaft nearby. If the explosion was big enough, Crystal Palace would either be destroyed or irradiated so much that it could no longer be usable.”
“Birkoff! Run me a plausibility scenario! Then get in touch with Michael!” Operations ordered before running up to his office.
“Nikita. Can’t we go find my brother and stop him before Section does?”
“We can try. Where do you think we could find him?” It was a lie, but Nikita had to keep him talking.
“He’s stationed at Ft. Carson, Colorado -- or he was last time I heard from him.”
Nikita sighed again. “He’s missing, Brandon. He’s been AWOL for several weeks. Everyone’s been looking for him. The bomb disappeared at the same time. Is there any place he might go to be safe?”
“If he’s done this, he’s probably with the Aryan Brotherhood -- but that means they could be anywhere in Colorado, Wyoming or Montana.”
“Brandon, I hate to say it, but Section might be the only way to stop your brother from doing something terrible. There’s already a team in Colorado -- if he planned to bomb Crystal Palace, wouldn’t it make sense that he might be there?”
“Yes,” Brandon replied quietly.
Nikita felt him withdrawing and went to him. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him close. “I know. You don’t want to betray your brother, but you have to tell me where we can start looking for him before the worst happens.”
“They’ll cancel him!” Brandon pulled away.
“Brandon, they’ll cancel you -- and me, if you don’t tell them what they want to know.” She sat down on the couch, feeling sick at the manipulation she was having to perform, but continued. “Do you know what Crystal Palace is?”
“Some kind of missile control station.”
With Birkoff telling her the details in one ear, Nikita recited, “It’s not a missile control station -- it’s the command and control center for the entire air defense network of the United States. If it’s destroyed, computers at missile silos across the US might interpret its loss as an enemy attack and automatically initiate retaliatory launches against all known enemies. We are talking about World War III, Brandon!”
Even as she heard Birkoff say the words, it took a moment for their importance to filter down. Michael would be dead -- everyone would be dead!
“Your brother will be killed, and it won’t have to be by Section,” Nikita added on her own.
Brandon covered his face with his hands briefly, as if trying to make sense of all she’d told him. “All right,” he said finally. “There are at least three meeting places in Colorado he could be at.”
“Let’s go,” Nikita said, grabbing her car keys.
“Go where?”
“To Section. You have to give the information to Birkoff and Operations!”
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