Burke was around sixty, looked fit and had intense brown eyes. Those eyes studied both of them with suspicion and curiosity.
Tanner and Sara recognized Burke from his recent televised visits to give testimony before the United States Congress about charges leveled against his company, which was one of the largest multinationals in the world, and bore his name, Burke.
Burke gestured for his men to bring them forward and soon they were seated in two chairs in front of the desk, but only after a pat down.
Sara had found the search for weapons invasive, as one of the men fondled her.
“Those are my breasts, not weapons,” Sara said, and the lecherous guard just smiled at her.
The other man had detected the bandage on Tanner’s left side and he tore open his shirt to inspect it, saw what it was, and grunted.
Once settled in his seat, Tanner spoke.
“What do you want, Burke?”
“I want to know who you two really are.”
Tanner looked over at Sara. This was her operation, but he saw no reason to hide their identities or intent from the father of one of the hostages, and the man could prove useful.
Sara sent Tanner a nod and then revealed the truth to Burke.
When she was finished speaking, Burke tapped a few times at a tablet computer, before looking down at it and then up at Sara.
“Yes, I see the strong resemblance between you and the other Ms. Blake.” He then looked over at Tanner, who was wincing in pain while rubbing a hand over his bandaged wound. “She said your name was Tanner, but what’s your first name?”
“It’s just one name.”
Burke studied him through squinted eyes.
“My father once hired a man named Tanner to handle a problem for him, but that was over thirty years ago and I happen to know that that man is dead, so what does that make you, Tanner number six?”
Tanner held back his surprise at Burke’s knowledge and answered the question.
“I’m the seventh Tanner.”
Burke made a face.
“You don’t deserve the name. The other Tanner never would have been taken and controlled so easily.”
“You’re probably right,” Tanner said, and launched himself atop the desk while freeing a slim blade he kept hidden in the folds of the bandage.
The weapon had a ring on one end that slipped over a finger and an inch long blade with a razor-like edge, it was flexible, but sharp, and Tanner laid it against Conrad Burke’s throat as he wrapped an arm around the man’s neck.
Sara was as surprised as everyone else in the room, but when she saw that the guards were bringing up their guns, she grabbed the bottom of her seat, lifted it up and placed a chair leg back down atop the instep of the man who had fondled her.
The man howled in agony as he instinctively dropped his weapon and grabbed for the chair, but Sara had already left it, to dive to the floor and retrieve the fallen gun.
The other guard had his weapon trained on Tanner, but Sara was pointing his partner’s gun up at him and the man knew that no matter what happened, if violence came, he would die.
“Tell your man to drop his gun, Burke,” Tanner said.
Burke was swallowing hard, but had otherwise stayed calm.
“Wilson, holster your weapon.”
Wilson did as commanded, but he kept a wary eye on Sara, who was rising to her feet.
Meanwhile, the other guard had taken Sara’s vacated seat and was removing his shoe to check on his damaged foot.
“Mr. Tanner?” Burke said.
“What?”
“I apologize for doubting your abilities and I do believe that we all want the same thing, yes? We want to see the hostages freed?”
Tanner slid off the desk and stood.
“We should work together and I have an idea how we can do that.”
“I’m listening,” Burke said.
“You have resources we don’t. Can you get your hands on a small GPS tracking device, something that can be embedded beneath the skin?”
“I could have such a device here in hours.”
Sara spoke to Tanner.
“You want him to be able to track our movements so that he can send help when we reach the rebel camp?”
“Yes, of course that presupposes that we’ll be taken as hostages like the others were.”
Burke nodded.
“It’s a good idea, and if it works I’ll send in more men to back you up. But, tell me something Tanner, without that help, what exactly were you planning to do against what must be over a hundred men?”
“I was going to do my best, Burke, and up until now, it’s always been enough.”
Burke laughed.
“You’re a cocky bastard; I like that, and you Ms. Sara Blake, you are one brave woman to risk yourself this way.”
“Not brave, desperate, I have to get my sister back.”
“We will, by working together, we’ll get her and Melissa back safely.”
They made plans to meet again, but as they turned to leave, Tanner looked down at the man sitting in the chair, whose foot Sara had damaged, and who was also the man who had fondled her in the guise of checking for weapons.
“Let me see your hands.”
The man gave Tanner an odd look, but raised his hands up tentatively.
As they were still rising up, Tanner gripped the fingers of both hands and twisted viciously, which caused several digits to become dislocated.
The man howled in fresh agony as hot tears fell unbidden from his eyes and Tanner glared down at him.
“That will teach you to keep them to yourself.”
Tanner left the room and Sara followed with a wide grin on her face, while fighting the urge to laugh.
CHAPTER 21 - Weird
That night, Tanner had showered first and was lying in bed wearing only a pair of black boxers, when Sara walked out of the bathroom dressed in silk pajamas, which bore a floral print.
The bed was large enough to accommodate three or four people if needed, and Tanner was perched on the far side, near the windows that overlooked the pool.
Sara walked over to the bed, looked down, and shook her head.
“This is too weird.”
“I won’t touch you, Blake, I promise.”
Sara kicked off her slippers, lay down, and the soft bed felt so good that most of the tension left her body.
“I am tired, and still a little jet-lagged, goodnight Tanner.”
“Goodnight, Blake.”
Sara turned off the light, but despite being exhausted, she just lay there staring at the dark ceiling while listening to the sound of the central air unit and the infrequent footfalls and muffled voices, as someone passed by in the hallway.
She looked to her right and could just make out the shadowy shape that was Tanner. She recalled her hatred for him, the blind rage of vengeance she carried around night and day as she sought the man’s death, and now, he was likely the only one who could find and rescue her sister.
“Are you asleep?” she whispered.
“No,” Tanner said.
“Why didn’t you kill me? I mean when we were inside the freezer, I know that you wanted to, so what stopped you?”
“I guess I let you live because you gave up your gun.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes.”
“I thought that maybe you felt sorry for me.”
“You did look pathetic.”
“Oh, thank you, that makes me feel better.”
They were silent again, but Tanner broke it with a question.
“Will you be coming back to New York when we free your sister?”
“No, I need to get away and my apartment holds too many memories, memories of Brian, and now Johnny, and I need to figure out what to do with the rest of my life.”
“That’s simple; just take it one day at a time.”
Sara smiled in the dark.
“That’s easier said than done, but then, what isn�
��t, right?”
“Exactly,”
“Goodnight again, Tanner.”
“Goodnight, Blake.”
“It’s Sara; after all, we are sharing a bed.”
“Goodnight, Sara.”
Sara laughed.
“This is so weird.”
“Yes.”
***
Sara awoke the next morning to find herself alone in the bed, but there was a note propped up on Tanner’s pillow telling her that he would be back by ten a.m.
When he reentered the room at 9:46, Sara was dressed and on the phone with her father.
“I have to go, Daddy, but I’ll call again soon.”
After she ended the call, Tanner gestured at her phone.
“Your family doesn’t know that you’re here, do they?”
“No, but if Duke doesn’t hear from me for more than a month he’ll let them know what I tried to do... and that I likely failed.”
“I was out looking for a way to get past the border and into Guambi, but had no luck since they doubled the number of guards on patrol, so I guess it’s time that Mr. and Mrs. Coleman made themselves very noticeable.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?”
***
The bartender at the pool was working as fast as he could and was still having difficulty keeping up with the drink orders, as Tanner, in the guise of rich American Robert Coleman, was buying drinks for everyone.
He was also telling an endless parade of stories about his travels around the world and had caught the eye of several young ladies, despite the fact that his wife, Sara, known as Linda, was seated beside him in a chaise lounge.
One particular lovely was a French woman named Nicole, who carried on a conversation with Tanner in her native language, and giggled when she realized that he had once eaten at her father’s bistro.
Before leaving the table, Nicole whispered something in Tanner’s ear, before sending a guilty glance towards Sara.
“You speak French very well,” Sara said. “And did I also hear you speaking Italian?”
“Yes.”
“You must have spent time in Europe.”
“And so have you, I heard you telling that bodybuilder type about the German ski resort you liked so much; it sounded as if you had been there more than once.”
“So, the Roberts are both well-traveled, flirts, and big spenders. That should attract attention. By the way, what did that French tart whisper in your ear?”
“She was letting me know what room she was staying in and that her friend would be out all evening.”
“And will you be taking her up on that offer?”
“No, we shouldn’t separate, or there’s a chance that you’ll be taken alone and I’ll return to find a ransom demand.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, too bad for you.”
Tanner’s eyes flowed over Sara in her red bikini.
“Any man with a wife that looks like you would be staying in at night anyway.”
Sara lowered her head and stared over the tops of her sunglasses.
“Don’t forget that this is all pretend, Mr. Roberts.”
Tanner didn’t respond, but there was a smile on his face.
CHAPTER 22 - Junior
Michael Krupin kept an office atop the restaurant he owned in Manhattan and it was there that he met with FBI agents, Tamir Ivanov and Justina Moretti.
Ivanov was the lead agent of the pair and was forty-two, while his young female partner was only twenty-seven. They were both in shape and dressed in well-tailored conservative suits that made them look more like businesspeople and less like the Feds they were.
Despite the Russian name, Tamir Ivanov was as American as could be and the Brooklyn born former New York City cop spoke his mind plainly, often too plainly, as the numerous reprimands inside his personnel folder could attest.
Tamir stood just short of six feet tall, had trimmed brown hair, and his ice-blue eyes seemed to look right through you.
Justina Moretti appeared haughty and just had that look that said bitch, although it was not her way and she was actually kind and unpretentious. However, nature had seen fit to have the beautiful woman with the lustrous dark hair broadcast that impression, and it did have its advantages in her line of work. She was also not averse to displaying a sharp tongue if provoked.
Fedor stared at Justina’s ass as he followed them up the stairs to Krupin’s office. Vance was leading the way, and when he opened the door, Ivanov and Moretti saw that Krupin had no less than six lawyers present, and that the men were all lined up behind him, where the young would-be King of New York sat at his desk with his palms laying flat atop the surface.
The agents also noticed that there were no other chairs in the room, except for the loveseat against the right wall, and Vance and Fedor promptly occupied it.
Tamir smiled at Michael Krupin.
“Hey there, Junior, I bet wearing the Daddy pants isn’t as much fun as you thought it would be, hmm?”
Michael Krupin’s brow furrowed.
“Are you talking to me?”
“Yeah, and as far as I know, you’re the only junior here. Mikhail Krupin Jr., son of Mikhail Krupin Sr., who was a former dirtbag commie and KGB agent who came here and went into the drug trade, and, who recently received payback in the form of a stroke, which I understand has left him a drooling vegetable.”
Five of the six lawyers opened their mouths to protest, but Tamir raised a hand.
“You’re right; I’m sorry, I should have said, allegedly went into the drug trade, but we all know that there’s no doubt that the kid’s father was a former KGB agent and a dirtbag, and I bet he drools on himself too.”
Krupin’s face reddened,
“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”
“He’s talking to you,” Justina said, and Krupin stared at her as if she had just appeared.
“What’s your name? And what’s his name? All I know is that you two are Feds.”
Tamir told Krupin their names and the young man stared back at him in shock.
“You’re Russian?”
“I’m an American, and like you, I was born in Brooklyn.”
“You’re still Russian.”
“No boy, I’m a Special Agent with the FBI and I would like to know what you know about the men who got killed in those warehouses.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“You’re telling us that you don’t know anything about those eighty-four men?”
“I thought there were eighty-two?”
“Ah, so you do know something.”
One of Krupin’s lawyers bent over and spoke in his ear.
“My lawyer has advised me to remain silent and I think I’ll take his advice.”
‘That’s fine,” Tamir said, as he walked over and stared down at Vance and Fedor. “You two have anything you want to say?”
“We don’t know a thing,” Vance said.
“I know something,” Fedor said, and Krupin squirmed behind his desk.
“What is it you know?” Tamir asked.
Fedor pointed towards Justina.
“I know that she is one fine piece of Italian ass and I’d like to see her naked.”
Krupin laughed nervously at that, but stopped when Tamir stared at him with his blue eyes of ice.
“Justina?”
“Yes, Tamir?”
“This old goat here would like to see you naked. What are the odds of that happening?”
“About the same odds as him getting hard without the help of a pill, it’s always the ones with the limp dicks that talk the most.”
This time Vance laughed, while Fedor cursed under his breath.
Tamir turned back to look at Krupin.
“Okay Junior, you don’t want to talk to us like a man and so I’ll do the talking. We know that many of the dead men were employed by a security firm and although we can’t yet prove that you own the firm, we both know that it’s true. All of
the dead men were of Russian descent and most of them had arrest records, overall, I’d say the city is a safer place. Still, it’s my job to stop the violence from escalating and so I’m here to tell you to end the war and make peace with The Giacconi Family.”
The most senior of the lawyers spoke up, like Justina, the man gave off an air of haughtiness, but unlike Justina, his was well earned and practiced.
“My client knows nothing about the explosions, the warehouses, or the dead men and he certainly has no knowledge about a ‘mob war’. If you have nothing else to say, I suggest you take your leave.”
“Your client is a punk who is in over his head and will likely be eaten alive if he continues to mess around with the big boys, and yeah, I think I’ll go. Justina, do you have anything else you want to say?”
“Nah, as usual, you said it all.”
They were at the door when Krupin called out to Tamir.
“Hey Fed, why don’t you go harass Joe Pullo?”
Tamir turned back around and smiled at Krupin.
“I’ll be speaking to Mr. Pullo very soon.”
“Mr. Pullo? Don’t you have any cute names for him? Aren’t you going to insult him the way you’ve insulted me?”
Tamir shrugged.
“I doubt it. Unlike you, Joe Pullo actually has a pair of balls, and while I still think the man is a criminal, he’s not a namby-pamby little Daddy’s boy like you are. Then again, you never know, the guy might rub me the wrong way.”
Krupin’s hands were still laying atop the desk, but they were balled into fists and shaking with rage.
“If you weren’t a Fed...”
Tamir laughed.
“Anytime Junior, bring it on anytime man to man and I promise you I’ll leave my badge out of it. Hell kid, you must be twenty years younger than me, that might help you, but I doubt it.”
Fedor stood, held the door open, and the sound of conversation and the tinkle of silverware drifted up from the restaurant below.
“It’s time you two left.”
“Whatever you say, gramps, and don’t forget to burp the kid after you feed him. Oh and change his diaper will you? It smells like shit in here.”
Tamir left with a laughing Justina at his side, as the sound of Krupin cursing in Russian filled the air.
The TANNER Series - Books 7-9 (Tanner Box Set Book 3) Page 7