Billy Ray McBride was a guy who had it all worked out. He had a future planned after college, a great girl, loving parents, the works. That is, until his twenty first birthday, when all of that was taken away. On this fateful day, his father was murdered, setting a string of events into play that will change his life forever. Walter McBride is a career man with the FBI, and is ready to walk away. Retirement is calling to him, and he is more than ready to heed the call. For too long, there have been too many long nights, too many fatherless occasions, too much strain on his life and marriage. The time has come for him to close his records and file them away. The announcement of this glorious decision is his gift to his son, on this fateful day. Over twenty years with the FBI gives a man a chance to make enemies. Walter's was a mobster who was in his sights for most of Walter's career. He should have informed the Callistone syndicate of his decision. Too close for comfort, a price was put on Walter's life. Billy Ray McBride sat and watched, as his father was gunned down right in front of him, on this fateful day. Love, hope and happiness are replaced by anger, hate and vengeance. His father's murder case was being swept under the carpet, giving him the self appointed duty of serving justice. Billy becomes a driven man who will not stop until the death of his father is avenged. This brings on a constant battle raging inside him, with morality as the subject. To overcome this and save the innocent, he must cast away his rage, putting others first, before himself. This is Billy's story . . .

North & South

The Confederate SoldiersBy Stacy Wright

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Stacy Wright
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4520-0387-0

Chapter One

Three months later ...

Losing a loved one in someone's life is a traumatic experience. Some are able to pick up and move on with their lives after a suitable time of mourning. Their wounds of love heal and they actually are drawn closer to the rest of their family and friends, drawing strength from their love and support. For others, the time is painful as the person becomes consumed with the loss. It is not a time of reflection, remembering the passing soul. No, for these people, it is an agonizing time that is not short lived. Nine months is a long time. Nine months of constant reminders of how the loved one was lost. Nine months of nothing but bureaucratic red tape and judicial postponements while the guilty walk the streets. Nine months of distancing everyone around you, while convincing yourself that you're the only one who will do anything, because you're the only one who really cares. Most people like this never make it back from that long, dark journey.

Billy opens the door to his condo, tosses his keys onto the counter and throws his bag over against the couch. He turns on the lights to find the place cleaner than how he had left it. Bobby had obviously stopped by and decided to tidy up for him while he was gone. "Some day I'm gonna remember to change the locks." Barbara or as she likes it Bobby Cox, is Billy's "former" girlfriend. They met three years ago, and had a pretty good relationship, professional and personal, until nine months ago. After his father died, Billy started withdrawing from social circles and family gatherings, until he had completely alienated himself from everyone in his life, including Barbara. They didn't have an ugly break up by any sort. He had to end the relationship because his new venture will be taking up too much of his time. Not to mention the fact that he didn't want anyone to suffer, if something were to happen to him. For now, she just hangs back in the shadows, hoping that one day Billy will pull out of this depression.

He looks around the room, taking an inventory of papers covering his walls. There are newspaper clippings dating back to the time of his father's murder. There are photos of warehouses and businesses, cars and limousines, all taken with a high powered lens on the camera. Faces in the shots are circled, with notations beside each one stating who the person is. There are wrestling promotional flyers pinned in amongst the photos, anywhere he can find the place. Some were matches won and some were lost, but they all served as an outlet for Billy's anger. Then, he recognizes what is out of place. Bobby had somehow found an old picture of him and her and tacked it to the wall. He walks over to get a closer look, and is not happy with what he sees. Bobby had a sticky note stuck to it that read, "Remember this guy?" The comment was aimed at a happy young man beside his girlfriend, having a great time together. He wishes she would just take the hint. Billy pulls the picture from the wall and wads it up, to toss over into the trash.

He moves through his usual regiment without a hitch, until he bumps the coffee table reaching for the television remote. It isn't like it's a catastrophic event by any means. All that happens is a book falling over onto the table, before flopping to the floor. What makes this book so special is that it was his father's favorite novel. As he reaches down to retrieve it, he has a flashback in time to his high school days.

"Come on, Son, read the book! If you don't trust my judgment about anything else, trust me about this and read the book." This is a vision, or memory, of a time and place not so long ago. The man was a loving father who like most parents, never seemed to have enough time to raise his son. "William, this is a great book and one, if not the favorite book that I enjoy reading, over and over. You've got a report to do, and don't know what topic to choose. Here, I'm giving you one to solve your problem."

Billy rights the bookstand and sets the novel back on its perch. He opens the sliding glass door to his balcony allowing the brisk night air to flood the apartment. The memories of his father are painful, even though they are all of happier times. It is a cold breeze that blows through the city of Atlanta, as the full moon shines brightly on the southern metropolis. He looks through the telescope that is pointed at Antonio Callistone's high rise down the street. Disappointed that no one is home, Billy looks to the skyline, stretching his arms out and taking a deep breath of the chilly air. He welcomes the cold. It numbs the pain in his heart and soul. Somehow, some way, someone has to pay for his grief. All of his life, or at least all he can remember, Billy has longed for the day to finally have some of his father's time. Walter McBride missed Billy's football games because of his work. He missed Billy's graduation. He missed too many a Christmas and too many birthdays. In fact, he missed almost everything that was important to Billy as he grew up. But the faithful son excused every event, because he knew that his daddy was making the world a better place to live. Billy's only question now was who is it better for? He props himself up on the balcony railing of his apartment and looks out into the not so distant lights of Atlanta. Somewhere out there is the person responsible for Billy's pain. That someone has to be brought to justice one way or another.

The television screen goes black at the end of a commercial, only to light up again as the late edition of the news returns. The newscaster sitting in front of the camera has an infatuation with Billy's alter ego. "... And again tonight, we grace this newscast with another sighting of the mysterious grey specter that has been stalking the Atlanta skyline. But wait loyal viewers; we have a bonus for you on the subject. Here, is actual footage shot by a parking garage security camera that shows the mystery man running along the parapet wall of the top floor. Now, we know that this is black and white footage and how difficult it is to make out, so I had the boys down in the computer department clean this up and give it life. Keep in mind; this is merely the objective views of our art staff, based solely on what they had to work with." The TV screen displays an image of Billy running along the roof top, in full costume, in full color. Not that Billy sees the picture, because he hasn't heard a word of the broadcast. His sights are set on a building down the street. "Now these are just some shots that the guys downstairs were having a little fun with the idea, but the first one they believe is really close to being dead on." Different images of Billy are flashed onto the screen, showing his costume in a number of different patterns and color schemes, some of which weren't too far off from some of Billy's own costume choices. The images fade with the cameras returning to the news anchors. "Tell me this Ed, who is this guy and what is his purpose here in our beautiful city?" Jim Watters turns and faces the camera. "If you're watching this, Captain Confederate, Mr. Rebel with a cause, I want you to know that you've got me curious, so curious that I'm willing to offer you a hundred bucks to air your story. Give me a call, if you're interested."

The phone rings inside the condo, snapping Billy out of his dark thoughts. He shakes off a cold chill and moves back into the apartment, but instead of answering the phone, he just stares at it until the answering machine picks up. He grabs his bag and starts to unload it, tossing his grey wrestling attire onto the floor, while waiting to see who it is on the other line. The voice being recorded is one he knows all too well. "Hey Billy, are you home? Listen, I know you asked me for some space. I just wanted to check up on you to see how you're doing. I'm going back to the wrestling academy to work part time. I need a break from the traveling for a while. So listen, since I'm going to be in town more often, I just wanted to let you know that I'm here for you." There is a long pause before the line goes dead, and then a dial tone sounds. Billy doesn't even give the call a second thought. With everything that's going on in his life right now, the last thing Billy is worried about is a relationship.

With remote in hand, Billy flops down onto the sofa and turns the TV up. "... Thanks Ken, topping our stories for this hour, today a hearing was held, over the murder case of former FBI agent, Walter McBride. It has been nine months since the violent murder, and the F.B.I. is still scrambling to gather any information they can find. McBride's Deputy Director was quoted afterwards saying, "All we've got is a dead agent who spent Twenty years chasing a fictitious gangster." He pushed his way through the reporters saying, "I have nothing else to say." The cameras show the images of the Director of the FBI and Walter's partner, Special Agent Theodore Harrison as they were leaving the court room.

"What a crock of shit! I don't believe this guy! Who the hell did he think he was talking about?" Billy turns the TV off, and then throws the remote across the room. After a second or two, he calms down some trying to let his more rational side control his actions. "Of course! They made the statement like that, to throw the bad guys off the trail. If they think that dad's superiors are discrediting his work, the bad guys will ease up, and then slip up." Billy's optimism is short lived, as he lets his anger take over again. He jumps up from the couch and starts to pace around the condo. "Who are you kidding, man? They're just dragging their feet through the bureaucratic red tape as usual." He turns and punches the heavy bag hanging in the corner. Then he hits it again, and then again and again, until he has himself going at it through a full workout.

Exhausted, Billy gasps for air as he sits on the floor, against the wall. His mind races through the facts of his father's murder investigation, as he tries to catch his breath. Then, as if he was struck by lightning, Billy jumps up to his feet and rushes over to the living room table, where he starts to rifle through a shoe box of his father's belongings. One time, a couple of years back, Walter took Billy to a small apartment on the north side of town. It was Walter's personal safe house, where he kept most of his top case works and an occasional eye witness. If Walter made any copies of anything, he would have kept it safe there. Billy finds the right key and throws everything else back into the box. With jacket in hand, he starts for the door, only to turn back to retrieve his own keys. For this trip, he will leave the motorcycle at home and opt for the silent running of his pick up truck.

Forty minutes is a long time to let your mind dwell on a subject. It's not like he has a choice in the matter. These thoughts consume his waking hours. Why does this whole case seem to be dragging along? His father's partner, Agent Harrison, walked side by side with Walter, investigating lead after lead. Billy wonders how much his father played the "Brains" of the duo, while Harrison did all of the foot work. Maybe, but Billy can't seem to get any information from Harrison. The last thing he wants is to draw too much attention to him-self right now. He's already been black balled from the court proceedings. He puts a mental note of suspicion on Agent Harrison, for Billy's alter ego to investigate, some other time.

Billy's Toyota rolls quietly up to the front entrance to the apartment complex. He looks around his surroundings twice before getting out of the truck. Walter told Billy a year or so ago, that he was the only other living soul that knew about his safe house retreat. If that were true, he should be able to walk right up to the front door without any worries. That is why he is always prepared. Dressed in black to hide his presence, Billy walks cautiously up the front walk, only to find the front door partially open. Someone is inside and they are giving the place a work over, obviously looking for something. Billy slips back out to his truck and grabs one of his wrestling masks. He always keeps a spare set of trunks and boots in his car, and truck, just in case a last minute match came up. This will conceal his identity while he investigates the burglary. He drops his hat back onto his head, to hide the mask, and pulls the collar of his coat up around his neck and chin. Whoever is in the apartment is about to have a really bad night.

As he walks back up to the door, the trespasser meets him at the entrance. Without any hesitation, Billy shoves the man back inside and up against the wall. The armful of files and papers the man is carrying fly all over the room. "I don't know what you're doing here in this person's home, but you will suffer the consequences, I assure you." Billy looks at the man's face, and then recognizes who it is. "Wait a minute, I know who you are. Tell me something, Agent Harrison, why would a respectable law enforcement official be sneaking around in his dead partner's apartment?" Harrison's presence completely catches Billy off guard. If nothing else he is the last person Billy expected to see there. Hell, he didn't expect to see anyone there.

"Who are you?" The detective asks, startled at Billy's masked presence. How could this mystery man know so much about who Harrison is? Nobody at the Bureau office knew about Walter's safe house. It took Harrison months to track this place down. How did this guy know so much?

"I'm the neighborhood watch." Billy answers. He reaches out and grabs the pieces of paper out of Harrison's hand. Surprisingly enough, one of them has a list of Billy's addresses on it, from his apartment on campus, to his new condo. "I'll keep this. You don't really want to be breaking in to the entire family's homes, now do ya?" Billy takes his eye off of Harrison for a split second to look around his dad's place, but a second is all Harrison needs to make his getaway. He shoves Billy back, who trips over a chair, giving Harrison a clean path towards the door. Billy watches Harrison's overweight body fumble and stumble his way out of the apartment. The sight is enough to make Billy laugh, as he pulls the mask from his face. What was Harrison doing here in the first place? Billy looks through the papers, hoping to find some kind of clue for the answer to his question. The little voice in the back of his head is screaming foul play. He can hear the tires on Harrison's car squealing out of the parking lot. Guilty, guilty, guilty, Agent Harrison is guilty of something. Only a fearful man would have run like that. The question is what does he fear?

Billy makes his way over to a matching set of bookcases against the far wall. Using a milk crate as a step stool, he reaches up on top and pulls a wooden dowel from its place and steps back down to the floor. He grabs both bookcases and pushes them apart. With distance between them, Billy can see the rails that they roll on, mounted to the wall. He can also see the concealed bedroom door. Inside was his father's private sanctum. Billy grabs the milk crate and hurries into the room. He unloads a small file cabinet into the crate while the computer's hard drive is copied to CD. He walks back out into the living room and tears one of the big bass speakers from its cabinet, and then returns to the computer desk where he shoves the magnet into the computer tower. Now he has every file that his dad had ever written. This is where he will find his answers. There is a dirty feeling about what he is doing, but at least he is doing something. The federal boys had their chance. He gave his word that he would stay out of the way and let the legal system handle his father's murder. They, being the F.B.I., have had their due time to solve the case of their murdered comrade. If it didn't mean that much to them, they should step out of the way and let someone else take over. He's already covered a lot of the leg work, now he needs to start his own investigation, to connect all the dots and see where they lead.

Two nights later ...

"Yeah, I understand ... no, I won't calm down! Tell me something, Harrison! How does it feel, to know that your life ain't worth the badge that you carry? Yeah, well how long is it gonna take before someone starts asking what your hiding? I know one thing; my father counted on you, Theodore. And, when he needs you the most, you turn your back on him. Do what you have to do, or get the hell out of the way!" Billy throws his cellular phone across the locker room, shattering it against the block wall. It was all too obvious to his friend that Billy's phone call did not go well. Billy wanted to ask Harrison about their confrontation the other night, but knows that if he did, others would become as suspicious about his activities, as he is about Harrison's.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from North & Southby Stacy Wright Copyright © 2010 by Stacy Wright. Excerpted by permission.
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