The Spy Game (A Tanner Novel Book 21)

by Remington Kane

  When Vernon left the suite, he found Mirella in the lobby. The teen walked toward him as he stepped off the elevator.

  “Hello, Mirella. Were you waiting down here for me?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Take me to dinner, Mr. Vernon. I find you interesting.”

  “You have my interest too, and call me Cal, honey.”

  Cal Vernon left the hotel and climbed into the rear of a limousine with Mirella, while Karl sat up front with the driver.

  “I want to stop at my hotel for a minute, Mirella. I have a few calls to make, then we’ll have that dinner.”

  “What sort of business are you in?”

  “I’m a regional manager for a large multi-national organization.”

  “It sounds boring.”

  “It is, but I’ll be moving up soon. And what is it you do, Mirella?”

  “I spend my father’s money.”

  “That sounds like a dream job,” Vernon said.

  After reaching his hotel, Vernon made Mirella a drink and left her on the balcony. Vernon then made plans for Langren’s abduction and the retrieval of the money from the bank job. When he was done, he went to the balcony and found that Mirella had relocated. After looking around, he discovered her lying atop his bed, naked.

  As he removed his tie, Vernon smiled at her.

  “Dinner will have to wait.”

  Mirella giggled, reached out, and unzipped his fly.

  19

  Ambushed

  ANCHORAGE, ALASKA

  Sara and Durand visited the trailer park where Alyona Petrov was living and found it to be a mini slum. The area had a high crime rate and there were signs that the local drug gangs were active.

  Alyona Petrov’s trailer was small, dirty, and old. She lived in it with two other elderly Russian women, one of whom gave them bad news.

  The woman’s gray hair looked as if it had not been combed in many days and she exuded body odor. Durand stayed back as Sara spoke to her. The distance did little to lessen the stench. He could not imagine having to live in a cramped trailer with such a person.

  “Alyona is in the hospital.”

  “How ill is she?” Sara asked.

  The woman scratched under an armpit as she answered.

  “She’s dying, some kind of cancer.”

  After thanking the woman, Sara followed Durand back to his rental.

  “We may have made the trip for nothing, but I still want to speak with Alyona.”

  “She’s dying, Sara, and you’ll be stirring up some old and painful memories.”

  “Jacques, Lyle Hanover used the woman for years, fathered her child, then he abandoned them to fend for themselves. Do you think a day goes by that she doesn’t think of that man, or remember her lost daughter?”

  “I see your point.”

  “Once I’ve spoken to Alyona Petrov I’ll decide my next move.”

  “I don’t see how she can help you if she’s ill.”

  “Sadly, her illness might make her the perfect ally.”

  “Why?”

  “If she’s dying, she’ll have nothing to lose.”

  TERNI, ITALY

  Tanner, along with Langren and his bodyguards, one of whom he had learned was named Max, stayed at a hotel for the night.

  Instead of getting on the road and delivering the money to Vernon as Bishop had asked Langren to do. Scott Langren spent the early part of the day making calls. He was trying to find dirt on Cal Vernon. Langren was convinced Vernon was behind the robbery and was a snake who wanted to usurp Bishop.

  He came up with nothing concrete, and by two in the afternoon Langren felt he could delay no longer. After a quick lunch in the hotel coffee shop, Tanner and the others were walking toward Langren’s car when Tanner noticed that nearby was a dark-blue van. The van was rocking with motion, as if several people were moving about inside it.

  Langren still had the gun Tanner had taken off Andrew, while all Tanner had was a knife. He freed the blade and held it at the ready as he opened his mouth to bring attention to the van.

  He never got the chance to speak as the side door on the van slid open and a man aimed a gun at them. He was not alone. Three other men were crouched beside him while another man was behind the wheel.

  Only one man had a gun, while the three beside him held machetes. Tanner whipped his arm around and sent the knife flying. It struck the man with the gun in the Adam’s apple and he dropped the weapon to reach for his throat.

  “Back to the hotel,” Tanner told Langren, as he grabbed the man’s wrist. Langren broke free of his grip and reached for the gun on his belt. One of the other men in the van had grabbed up the dropped weapon and began firing wildly until the gun was empty.

  His shots hit both bodyguards and Langren, but missed Tanner, who had moved behind the front end of a Mercedes. Langren had been struck in the side, then grabbed by one of the machete bearers, who was threatening to slice his throat open. Langren removed his hand from his jacket and one of the men plucked his gun away.

  A bodyguard was dead from a head wound, Tanner thought it was the one named Max, while the other one was on his back and moaning. He had been struck in the forearm and it appeared the slug had broken a bone.

  Langren was hustled into the van along with the backpack full of money. Seeing that, Tanner ran back toward the hotel while weaving amid the parked cars. When one of the men began chasing after him with a machete, he was called back by the driver.

  “Forget him; those shots will bring the police.”

  The man returned to the van and jumped inside. Then, they were off with Langren and the bank money.

  Tanner, still unarmed, ran around the side of the hotel where the loading dock was. A glance over his shoulder revealed that the van was turning right at the parking lot exit. Tanner brought to mind his memory of the streets near the hotel and thought he might have a chance to turn things around.

  If Langren were killed he might lose his connection to Bishop. He had to get him back. When he rounded a corner and saw the laundry truck backing up to the dock he knew he had a chance.

  The man driving the truck cried out in shock when Tanner yanked him from his seat and sent him sprawling onto the ground. As he was driving the truck away, Tanner heard a string of Italian curses come from the driver. Moments later, Tanner was out on the street and searching for the van that took Scott Langren.

  Inside the van, which was stopped at a traffic signal, the man who had taken the knife to his throat was gurgling, and a stream of frothy blood flowed from his mouth. The other three men in the rear could do no more than watch him die, while Langren was talking to the driver.

  “I recognize you. You’re Alberto, right?”

  “That’s right, but it doesn’t matter if you recognize me. You’re done, Langren, and so is Bishop.”

  “Cal Vernon is behind this? I know he is.”

  “Shut him up,” the driver said. “Slap some tape over his—shit!”

  Alberto hadn’t spotted the laundry truck until it was rocketing toward him. Tanner had driven it across a stretch of sidewalk and between parked cars to ram the van on the passenger side door. The van stalled as the airbags in the cab deployed and the windshield shattered, however, the old laundry truck kept running.

  After the initial impact, Tanner kept pushing the vehicle. It hit the curb on the other side of the street, then tipped over. The van fell on its side and began sliding down a grassy hill. Tanner arrived to find the driver crawling out of the hole where the windshield had been.

  The driver, Alberto, was holding a machete. Tanner kicked him on the side of the head and yanked away the weapon. There had been a man following the driver. The man was on his hands and knees, but he gripped Langren’s gun in his right hand. Tanner brought the machete down in an arc and severed the man’s hand at the wrist. Blood spurted from the wound and painted the door panel red.

  As he picked up the gun that was ly
ing in the palm of the severed hand, Tanner heard Langren say something, and yet, he couldn’t make out what was said. The man with the missing hand was screaming and made Langren’s words unintelligible. When he looked inside the van, Tanner saw that Langren was hacking away with his own machete at two of the men who had grabbed him.

  Langren’s other hand was holding onto the straps of the backpack. The men were receiving multiple cuts on their arms and hands, which were held up in defense and to cover their faces.

  “Langren! We have to go.”

  Langren turned and gazed at Tanner with a pair of wild eyes, the nostrils of his tiny nose were flaring as he breathed heavily. After scrambling from the van, Langren paused, looked down at the stunned Alberto, and jabbed the tip of his machete into the man’s stomach three times.

  Alberto screamed, and the sound made Langren laugh.

  Tanner grabbed Langren by the arm and pulled him away.

  “Drop that machete. We’re conspicuous enough with all the blood we have on us. And keep your head down. There are people looking our way.”

  Langren released the machete, and by the time he had climbed up the hill, he needed Tanner’s help in walking. His gunshot wound, combined with an impact to his head during the crash had left him woozy.

  There were people in cars slowing down to stare at the “accident.”

  Tanner was considering leaving Langren to fend for himself if he spotted cops approaching. He saw none and assumed that the fatal shooting near the hotel was their priority. Tanner led Langren to the rear of the laundry truck, then spun around as a vehicle approached them.

  It was the bodyguard who had been shot in the arm. He had recovered enough to get in the car and drive away from the scene of the shooting. Tanner tumbled Langren atop the rear seats along with the backpack full of euros, then climbed in after him.

  “Get us the hell out of here,” Tanner said in Italian, as the sound of police sirens came from several directions.

  “Ryan,” Langren said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Anything for the cause,” Tanner said.

  20

  Driving An Ape

  Langren gave the bodyguard directions and they drove north to Spoleto. In minutes, they arrived at the home of a veterinarian, which was bordered by an olive grove.

  The veterinarian was a member of Bishop’s group who held strong anti-government sentiments. Langren wasn’t seriously wounded, even so, he had lost a good amount of blood. The slug that struck him had passed through a love handle.

  The bodyguard had fared worse, having two broken bones in his forearm, and Tanner had a cut on his left elbow that he couldn’t remember receiving. Langren phoned several people, including a contact who would relay what had happened to Bishop. Langren mentioned the driver, Alberto, whom he knew worked under Cal Vernon. Langren was convinced that Vernon was behind the attack.

  The veterinarian, a short man in his fifties with a beard, told Tanner that Langren was sleeping after receiving painkillers. He also said both Langren and the bodyguard should stay overnight due to weakness from loss of blood.

  However, there was no room in the small house for another guest, and Tanner decided to find a hotel room. He borrowed a suitcase from the vet, so he wouldn’t appear out of place while getting a room. Along with the suitcase, he accepted a hoodie that was a size too big. His shirt had been bloody, but his black jeans hid the stains well.

  He left with the promise to return in the morning while using an old Italian pickup truck that had only three wheels, two in the rear and a front center wheel. It was called a Piaggio Ape and it looked ridiculous. Had Tanner been certain that no one was looking for Langren’s car, he would have driven that instead.

  Despite its appearance, the Ape did well on the narrow roads and Tanner found a hotel to stay at. Before checking in to the hotel, Tanner made contact with Benedetti.

  “It’s about time you called in. I was beginning to think you were dead.”

  “I can hear the disappointment in your voice.”

  “Hold on, Tanner. I’m going to bring Hanover in on this call. He wants to talk to you.”

  There was a pause, followed by Hanover’s voice asking a question.

  “What’s your status, Tanner?”

  He relayed what had happened since he killed Andrew and the others to save Jemma Ricci. When he was done, Hanover had another question.

  “You say Bishop was wearing the data drive around his neck?”

  “That’s right, and I don’t understand why he would do that instead of hiding it somewhere within easy reach.”

  “The man must be confident no one can touch him. Considering there’s a split in his organization I’d say he’s wrong.”

  “Langren survived the attack on him and kept the money. That’s twice he’s beaten Vernon, and yet, Vernon is Owen Bishop’s right-hand man. Once I figure out who’s going to come out on top of this feud I’ll throw in with them.”

  “You still have to get to Bishop,” Benedetti said. “Concentrate on that.”

  “I understand that.”

  “I want you to start calling in twice a day, Tanner. I’m sick of hearing from you only when you feel like it.”

  “That’s tough, Benedetti. I call when it’s convenient. Deal with it.”

  “Mr. Hanover, I’ll ask you again, put Sara Blake back behind bars. It would make Tanner easier to handle.”

  “I understand your frustration, Miss Benedetti, but remember, Tanner is not a trained operative. You can’t expect him to keep to the rules.”

  “I do expect you to keep your word, Hanover,” Tanner said. “We had a deal. Sara stays free while I’m helping you, and then she’ll be cleared of all charges.”

  “Our deal stands, and you won’t retaliate by harming us.”

  “Yes, our deal stands. I won’t harm anyone… unless I’m provoked.”

  The call concluded and Tanner checked-in. It was still early, and he needed to think. He fired up the odd pickup truck and went for a drive as he tried to consider all the angles and develop contingency plans. He made one stop after spotting a clothing store. Tanner purchased new clothes for himself and grabbed a pair of slacks and a shirt he thought would fit Langren. Langren’s clothing had been ruined by blood and the man would need something to wear. Tanner left the clothes he’d been wearing in a trash bin and felt better in the new clothes, which was a black suit, and a dark-blue polo shirt.

  The area roads were quiet, and the traffic was light, so when he noticed the car following him after he’d left the shop, he wasn’t surprised.

  The vehicle was also a familiar one. It was Langren’s car, and judging by the hulking silhouette behind the wheel, Langren’s bodyguard was driving. Langren must have given the man instructions to keep an eye on him.

  It was much easier to follow someone in heavy traffic than when the roads were empty, and it was unlikely anyone else would drive the random pattern he was following as he cruised around. Even more improbable was the fact that Tanner would gain a second car tailing him, but that was what happened as Tanner drove back to the hotel.

  That vehicle was a black limousine of all things, and he was certain it was following him. Upon arriving at his hotel, Tanner parked and went inside.

  Langren’s man parked near the spot where Tanner had left the Ape, while the limo pulled to the curb where there was a view of the hotel.

  As far as Tanner could detect, there appeared to be only one man in the car, the driver, however, the limo’s rear windows were heavily tinted. Maybe one of Cal Vernon’s men had tracked him after he used the Ryan ID to rent a room?

  There was no way to know, but there was a way to find out. Tanner slipped out of a rear service entrance and climbed a fence. Whoever was inside the limousine was about to get more than he bargained for.

  In Anchorage, Alaska, Sara and Durand entered the hospital where Alyona Petrov was being treated. They found Petrov in a room with anoth
er bed. The second bed was unoccupied, and she was alone for the moment. Alyona was in her seventies and her thin face was wizened and wrinkled by age and a hard life. And yet, Sara recognized her from a photo Durand had shown her. The photo had been taken during the time Alyona had been married to Hanover.

  Despite her circumstances, Alyona greeted them with a smile, but she assumed that they were there to visit her absent roommate.

  “Are you here to visit Uki? She was taken away for tests,” Alyona said in accented English. “She should be back soon.”

  “Are you Alyona Petrov?” Sara asked. “If so, we’re here to see you.”

  “You are here to visit me?”

  “Yes… and to talk about a sad time in your life.”

  Sara began by telling Alyona that she had recently had trouble with Lyle Hanover, while stating that the grief he was causing her was nothing compared to the pain the man had caused Alyona. Alyona listened patiently and with a blank expression on her face.

  “Why have you come here to tell me this?” Alyona asked.

  “I’m looking for allies. I want to make Hanover realize that he can’t use people and just get away with it because of his position.”

  “His position?”

  “I guess you don’t know. Lyle Hanover is a very important man within the Central Intelligence Agency.”

  Alyona shook her head as confusion showed on her face.

  “I don’t know this man, this Lyle Hanover.”

  Sara and Durand exchanged shocked looks. It had never occurred to them that Alyona was ignorant of the true name of the man who’d betrayed her.

  Sara had a color printout of the lone photo of Lyle Hanover she could find on the internet. She removed it from her purse, unfolded it, and handed it to Alyona.

  “Miss Petrov, Alyona, Lyle Hanover was the spy who used you during the Cold War to steal Russian research material. You knew him as Ivan Travkin.”