Janet Austen had been incensed over her arrest for drug possession and was telling anyone who would listen that she was framed.
One of the people listening to her was a reporter. The story died along with Janet. After signing a statement in front of witnesses, Tiffany’s legal worries were over. In the statement, Tiffany wrote that she had lied to her mother concerning the sexual allegations against Lyle Hanover.
An hour after the statement was in Hanover’s possession a drug addict admitted he had broken into Tiffany’s home and killed her mother, who had been his supplier.
No other evidence surfaced that Janet Austen had been dealing drugs, and her confessed killer died in jail after being knifed by a fellow inmate.
At twenty-three, Tiffany Austen now worked as a bartender at a trendy D.C. nightclub.
“I want to speak with both these women and I want to do it in person,” Sara said.
Durand raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“You mean to travel to Alaska?”
“I do, but first I’ll go to Washington D.C. to speak with Tiffany Austen.”
“Can you travel under a name other than your own? If not, you’ll be creating a trail that leads back to you.”
“I could obtain such identification; however, it will take time.”
“I can help you there through my contacts… and I’ll travel with you.”
“What? No, Jacques. You’ve already done too much.”
“I have the time, Sara, and I wouldn’t feel right about leaving you alone when I know how dangerous the prey is your stalking.”
“I can handle myself. Proving that is why I’m doing what I’m doing.”
“I know, but I would never forgive myself if after I left something happened to you.”
“You’ll really continue to help me?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Jacques. You’re an even better friend than I knew.”
“You are one of my favorite people, Sara. I think you know that.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Sara said, then she glanced at her watch to check the time. “We’ll travel to D.C. by train. It will still leave a trail, but driving would take too long.”
“Let me make a few calls. I think I can arrange a private flight that won’t leave a trace. I’ll also work on our travel arrangements to Alaska.”
Sara grinned. “I sometimes forget that you’re more than you seem.”
“Aren’t we all?” Durand said, as he took out his phone.
THE PIAZZA VENEZIA IN ROME, ITALY
Tanner’s first shot shattered the windshield on the patrol car without striking the police officers inside the vehicle. When he went to fire again, his gun jammed, and he made a sound of frustration at his inability to get off another round.
After dropping the weapon, he was running into traffic as the cops jumped from their car and shouted into their radios. Tanner didn’t look behind him, but he could imagine the shocked look on Vinchanzo’s face. The man had just witnessed him trying to kill two cops.
In actuality, Tanner had been doing nothing of the kind. He had rigged his weapon so it would jam after firing one round. He made certain to miss the officers inside the vehicle and the slug embedded itself in the rear seat.
Shouts came from behind him, but they were faint and mixed in with the sound of the traffic. Tanner had spent hours the previous night planning his escape from the scene and those precautions would be the only thing that kept him from being gunned down or arrested.
He jumped onto a scooter he had stolen the night before and began weaving through traffic that had been backed up due to the protest rally. Twice, he had to avoid being struck by a car attempting to change lanes, and once he nearly collided with another scooter.
A look behind him revealed several cops on their own scooters, which were easily identifiable due to their flashing lights. Although he could see their lights, Tanner was reassured that he couldn’t hear their sirens over the sound his scooter was making. It meant he had time to do what he needed to accomplish.
After entering an alley, Tanner rode through it while reaching out an arm to grab a thin cord that was dangling from a stack of wooden pallets. He gave the cord a yank as he sped by and the pallets came tumbling down to block the way for any pursuers.
As he neared the other end of the alley, Tanner heard the sound of a siren in the distance that seemed to be growing louder.
While exiting the alleyway, he looked left and saw flashing lights. He made it to the vacant store he had broken into the night before and jumped off the scooter. After entering the shop, he secured the door with an iron bar.
The night before, Tanner had spent time making the shop difficult to get into through its large window by fastening netting across it. It wouldn’t stop a pursuer, but it would slow them down.
The shop was long and narrow with a rear exit that opened up on the other side of the block. As he strode toward the back door, Tanner stripped off his jacket, the sneakers, the hat, the ski mask, and finally, the clear latex gloves he’d been wearing. It all went inside a barrel that had rags in the bottom that were soaked in petrol. After flicking on a lighter and locking the flame on high, Tanner tossed it atop the clothes and they began burning.
Back at the rooming house were duplicates of the clothes. If Vinchanzo wanted to see them to confirm that Tanner had been the shooter, he could do so. If the police became involved, those same clothes would mark him as the shooter as well, and yet, if tested, they would reveal no trace of gunshot residue.
A pair of boots were standing near the rear door along with a hooded jacket that was hanging on a nail. Tanner slipped into them as behind him a string of Italian curses came from a cop who’d gotten tangled up in the netting. To make things more difficult, Tanner had covered the netting with thick globs of glue.
The smoke from the trash fire hid his movements from view, although he had to assume officers were rushing around the block toward the rear exit. Still, that would take time, and Tanner was out the door and walking across a parking lot which contained a supermarket, two restaurants, and an assortment of small shops. He had just reached the supermarket when a helicopter appeared overhead and hovered over the shop he had left.
Tanner boarded a bus that had stopped to pick up patrons of the shopping center, then settled in a seat where someone had left a newspaper. After the bus had traveled a mile Tanner got off and hailed a taxi. Once the taxi dropped him off in front of a hospital, Tanner walked several blocks and went down into the subway and got on a train.
He was back in his room at the boarding house an hour later, where he took a seat by the window. Vinchanzo would come to talk to him about what he’d witnessed, and this time Tanner wouldn’t ignore him. He had proven he was a dangerous man with no regard for law and order and that he was willing to kill.
He was a perfect candidate for Bishop’s organization, and because of what he’d done he wouldn’t be starting at the bottom. Benedetti might be an excellent handler of spies, but she was devoid of imagination. Tanner had accomplished in two days what she had predicted might take weeks.
Of course, there was always the chance Vinchanzo might try to kill him. That was no concern to Tanner. People had been trying to kill him since he was little more than a boy and he had survived them all. He would survive whatever came next as well, and then he would kill Owen Bishop.
11
Contact
Vinchanzo knocked on Tanner’s door around eight p.m., when it was time for dinner. Tanner opened the door and stared at him with a questioning look on his face.
“What do you want?”
Vinchanzo leaned in and spoke in a whisper.
“I saw what you did at the protest rally.”
Tanner jerked as if he were shocked by the news, then rushed to the window and looked out.
“Did you call the police?”
Vinchanzo entered the room and shut the door behind him.
“I would never call th
e police, Signore Ryan. I consider them to be my enemies.”
Tanner turned from the window and stared at Vinchanzo.
“What do you want, money to keep quiet?”
Vinchanzo smiled. “You misunderstand; I admire what you did. You struck a blow for the people and put fear in the hearts of the authorities. I would imagine every cop in Rome is on edge tonight.”
Tanner sat in the chair by the window and continued to stare at Vinchanzo.
“You want something, what is it?”
“I want to take your picture.”
“What?”
“I need a photo of you, so I can send it to a friend.”
“Why?”
Vinchanzo ignored the question and continued.
“I’ll also need some background information about you. I am not just a bricklayer, Signore Ryan. I am a member of a group that works to free the people of the world from the tyranny of their governments. After what I saw you do today, I think you would be valuable to us.”
Tanner squinted at him.
“You’re a terrorist?”
“I prefer freedom fighter,” Vinchanzo said, as he took out a phone and snapped Tanner’s picture.
“I didn’t say you could do that, and what’s to stop me from beating you bloody and taking that phone away?”
“I have fighting skills,” Vinchanzo said, “and even if you bested me you would still have to deal with my friends. We are many, Signore Ryan. You will not defeat us all.”
The room grew quiet, as Tanner looked down and appeared to be thinking things over. After several moments passed, he asked a question.
“This organization of yours, are they just talk, or do they take action?”
“We are responsible for many things that would be classified as crimes; they were not crimes, they were acts of justice.”
“Why do you need my picture and information? You have connections that can verify I am who I say I am?”
Vinchanzo nodded while grinning.
“If you’re a cop or an agent of some kind, we will kill you.”
“Ask your damn questions; I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“I hope that is the truth,” Vinchanzo said.
It was nearly ten o’clock by the time Vinchanzo received a call back from his contact. Tanner and Vinchanzo had stayed in the room while waiting and had spoken little.
Tanner was ready to toss a knife at the man’s throat if the cover identity Benedetti had given him hadn’t passed scrutiny.
After speaking in a low tone for nearly a minute, Vinchanzo put his phone away and smiled at Tanner.
“My superior would like to meet with you.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. We’ll be meeting him at a restaurant that is a short ride from here. Enzo will drive us. He’s waiting downstairs.”
“Since we’re going to a restaurant, you’re buying me dinner. I’m hungry.”
Vinchanzo laughed.
“I too am famished.”
Enzo greeted Tanner with a look of respect and again offered his hand. This time, Tanner shook the young man’s hand and they all got into an old gray Mercedes that had a dent in its hood.
As Vinchanzo had said, it was a short ride, and they arrived at a restaurant near the coast.
The Ristorante Italiano did a good tourist trade during the dinner hour but was quiet when Tanner walked in.
While Enzo stayed with the car, Vinchanzo led Tanner toward the rear of the restaurant where there was a small private dining room.
Seated at a table was a blond man in a suit who was balding on top. Vinchanzo introduced him as Andrew, and when he spoke, Tanner heard broken Italian spoken with an English accent. Wine was served by a waiter, then Andrew asked Tanner why he had come to Italy.
“Speak English,” Vinchanzo told Andrew. “I’ll ask a question if Signore Ryan says something I don’t understand.”
“Yes,” Andrew said. “That might be better. My Italian is atrocious.”
The waiter appeared again, and Tanner learned that the restaurant served a limited menu after ten p.m. He didn’t mind and ordered the Chicken Roberto. Vinchanzo and Andrew did the same, along with more wine.
“Some of my happiest days were spent in Italy,” Tanner said, in his identity of Steve Ryan. “After I was arrested during a protest rally I attended in Chicago, I was sick of the U.S.”
“And how did you get a gun into the country?”
“I didn’t. I found it while I was robbing a house last night.”
Andrew blinked in surprise. “You are a thief?”
Tanner shrugged.
“I came across a drunk who was struggling to open his front door with a key. After I helped him inside, he passed out on a sofa, so I looked through the house and went through his wallet. I left with the gun, some money, and a scooter.”
“You are a man who knows how to take advantage of an opportunity, that’s good, but why did you try to kill those cops?”
“It was an impulse. I saw them sitting there in their new car paid for by the people while stuffing their smug faces with food. If the damn gun hadn’t jammed I would have killed them too.”
Their meals arrived, along with another bottle of wine. Once the waiter left, Andrew pointed at Tanner.
“If you were to join our group you would have to stop being so impetuous. You would also be taking orders from me.”
“What group are you talking about?”
“Like you, we have no love for the authorities and those that claim to rule us. We are dedicated to someday bringing down the world’s governments.”
Tanner chuckled. “You don’t think small, do you?”
“No, we do not, and we’re determined to win.”
The conversation paused as they began eating, when they were nearly done, Tanner asked Andrew a question.
“How would I fit into your group?”
“We need men like yourself. You might say I’m responsible for fundraising; the way we go about accumulating those funds is illegal, yet highly profitable.”
“What do you do, deal drugs?”
“We sell and distribute narcotics, yes, however, that is not my area of expertise. I prefer to commit robberies, if well-planned, they can be lucrative.”
Tanner spoke to Vinchanzo. “You’re part of his crew?”
“I have worked with Andrew before, yes, as has Enzo… and another man, but he recently died while in jail.”
“That man’s death caused me to postpone a robbery I had planned,” Andrew said. “I was going to request another member be sent to me, still, you’ll do, Ryan, if you’re willing.”
“What’s in it for me?”
Andrew smiled. “You’ll receive a small sum, while the main bulk of the money will go toward the cause.”
“I can live with that. Having enough money has never been a problem for me. I just don’t want another run-in with the cops. I came close to going to jail back in Chicago. I hate cops.”
“I plan each robbery meticulously. We should have no problems.”
“When would we be carrying out that plan?”
“In two days’ time.”
“What about weapons?”
“Firearms are hard to come by here, but I’ll be armed.”
“Just you?”
“Yes.”
Tanner took a sip of wine. After patting his mouth with a napkin, he sent Andrew a nod.
“I’m in. What’s the plan?”
12
If I Could, I Would
“You did what?” Benedetti asked, and Tanner could hear the anger in her voice.
Moments earlier she had sounded half-asleep, as Tanner had called her after one a.m. and woken her. Sleepy or not, Benedetti berated him for not calling in on time. When he told her he had scrapped her plan and moved forward with one of his own, all traces of sleep left her voice.
“I let Vinchanzo see me shoot at two cops. Hours later, his people checked me out and I met with his superior, an
Englishman named Andrew.”
“You son of a bitch. Who the hell do you think you are to make a decision like that?”
“I’m not your boy, Benedetti, get that straight. I’ll go after Bishop and get the data drive, but I’ll be doing it my way.”
“By shooting at cops?”
“By doing whatever it takes. You people at the CIA and the other intelligence communities like to play your spy games, but that’s not my style. I don’t have superiors to answer to, geo-political considerations, or a president to please. I have a contract on Owen Bishop and I will kill him.”
“You arrogant sack of shit. I’m going to recommend to Hanover that Miss Blake be placed in a hellhole, then we’ll see how well you follow orders.”
“Do that and you end the deal I made with Hanover. The promise I made not to harm you will no longer be binding, and lady, I will put you in the grave.”
“If you harm me, Hanover, or Garrett you’ll be hunted down and killed by the United States government.”
“Maybe, or maybe Thomas Lawson will call off the hounds. Once Lawson recovers you’ll be lucky to hold a job as a meter maid.”
Benedetti was silent. When she spoke again, she did so in a normal voice.
“There’s no proof I was involved in Lawson’s abduction, besides, Hanover will protect me from any fallout. He’s had his career and will take the blame. If Lawson wants Hanover’s head, it just means he’ll retire a little earlier than planned.”
“He’ll retire with a bullet in his head if he goes back on our deal, Benedetti.”
“Forget I said anything about Miss Blake. I was just angry because you went off plan. Now tell me what happened when you spoke with this man Andrew.”
Tanner relayed the conversation he’d had in the restaurant, along with the details of the robbery Andrew had shared with him.
“A bank robbery?”
The Spy Game (A Tanner Novel Book 21) Page 6