The Spy Game (A Tanner Novel Book 21)

by Remington Kane

  He heard a sigh that was part relief and part exasperation come over the line.

  “Are you on a public phone?”

  “It couldn’t be helped.”

  “All right, we won’t speak plainly. Tell me the condition of the man you were in France to meet.”

  “That man is deceased.”

  “How unfortunate for him, and what about the golden trinket you were sent there to acquire?”

  “It’s in my possession.”

  “Yes!” Benedetti said in a chipper voice. Tanner took the wind from her sails with his next statement.

  “However, nothing has changed. There’s a new player, and the trinket is just that, a trinket. We’re right back where we started.”

  “And just how the hell did that happen?”

  “I’ll be damned if I’ll go into it using double-speak. Let’s just say it’s complicated and I’ll tell you once I’m not on a public phone. To make a long story short, our new worry is a man named Cal Vernon.”

  “Is he in charge now?”

  “He was, but he’s running his own game at the moment, and he’s hired about a dozen deadly friends to watch his back.”

  “Mercenaries?”

  “No, these men would be classified as working in my field.”

  He heard Benedetti curse under her breath before she asked a question.

  “What do you need?”

  “A place to stay with two beds, a pair of new ID’s, several phones, and three thousand euro.”

  “Two beds?”

  “It’s part of the complicated story.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In Toulouse, France.”

  “Hang up and I’ll call you back in fifteen minutes.”

  Benedetti didn’t call back for twenty-two minutes. She had arranged for two rooms in a third-rate hotel. As for the phones and the money, she would be delivering those in person.

  “We need to talk, you and I, and your story better be good.”

  “What time should I expect you?”

  “Early. I’m already in France.”

  “Bring coffee.”

  “Fuck you,” Benedetti said, and ended the call.

  30

  The Truth Comes Out

  BRUSSELS, BELGIUM

  Cal Vernon arrived in Brussels, where he was met by Boldizsár Magyar.

  Magyar greeted his assassins with eyes full of pride while taking in the worried look on Vernon’s face.

  “There was a problem?”

  Vernon hesitated, then said, “Maybe.”

  Within an hour of landing Vernon was in a luxury hotel registered under an alias. Magyar had joined him in the suite and they spoke over drinks.

  “My bodyguard and chauffeur never made it to the plane.”

  “What do you suspect happened to them?”

  “Not what, who,” Vernon said, and he went on to fill Magyar in on his discovery that a man calling himself Steve Ryan was actually Tanner.

  Magyar set his drink down then asked Vernon to describe Tanner.

  “That sounds like him,” Magyar said, “especially when you mentioned his eyes. I’ve never seen him in person, but, wait, I have photo of him that was taken by the Mexican authorities.”

  Magyar searched his phone while Vernon mixed them both fresh drinks. When he returned to take a seat across from Magyar, the Hungarian held up his phone.

  “That’s him all right,” Vernon said.

  “This man has been a thorn in my side. He killed my most notable protégé, Lars Gruber. Later, he eliminated a team of my men, which I sent to New York to kill him at the behest of a client.”

  “I had heard he killed Maurice Scallato and a Mexican drug lord. Still, even if he had gotten free I don’t know how he could have survived the gas inside the chateau.”

  “This Tanner, he is the latest in a line of Tanners. This man was trained by a master assassin. Killing the cartel leader was a remarkable feat, but I was more impressed when I learned he had bested Scallato. I and others in my profession had deemed Scallato to be the greatest assassin of all time. That title now belongs to Tanner.”

  “What about these hit squads you have? Could one of them kill Tanner?”

  Magyar seemed to deflate as he pondered the question.

  “Sadly, I would have to say no.”

  “Okay, what if you sent all three teams after him?”

  Magyar picked up his drink again.

  “Even Tanner wouldn’t survive against all of my teams.”

  “I thought you’d say that, and I’m willing to pay you to make that happen.”

  “First, we have to locate the man.”

  “Tanner will be looking for me. My first instinct is to go into hiding, but then I would miss the opportunity to end his threat by using your men.”

  “You’re willing to make yourself a target?”

  “Up to a point. I don’t know how he would track me here, on the other hand, I also would have sworn he wouldn’t have survived in the first place. I want to put the word out on the streets that there’s a reward for anyone who spots Tanner. I’ll even pay to have men placed at the airports and rail stations.”

  “I also have a network of corrupt police officers I can call upon to help with this.”

  “Good. While I’m in Brussels, I’ll have your men watch over me. If Tanner makes an appearance those same men can kill him.”

  “It would be better if we supplemented the teams with some of the men I have training at my estate. A team will protect you at all times, on eight-hour shifts with the trainees backing them up. That way, we’ll always have at least two teams fully rested and ready to respond. It will keep the men fresh for when they need to go up against Tanner.”

  Vernon laughed. “You’ll also make more money that way, anyhow, I don’t care. I can afford it.”

  The two men agreed to talk on the phone in the morning to solidify their plans. Magyar left his best team behind as well as several new recruits. The recruits would be outside the hotel watching for anything out of the ordinary. They were not fully-trained, but they were good enough to act as spotters and each man carried a weapon.

  After Magyar departed, Vernon made a call and invited a guest to visit him in his suite. Mirella, Magyar’s daughter, arrived an hour later while wearing a blonde wig, large sunglasses, and a skimpy red dress that revealed sun-tanned skin.

  Vernon had told Magyar’s men to allow her up to the suite, while claiming he had hired a hooker for the night. Once they were alone, Mirella shed the wig and pressed herself against Vernon.

  “Do you think any of your father’s men recognized you?”

  “Are you kidding? All they were looking at were my legs and boobs.”

  “Speaking of which,” Vernon said, as he began unzipping the dress.

  The following morning in Toulouse, France, Vanessa Benedetti entered Tanner’s hotel at 6:28 a.m.

  She looked around the shabby lobby in case Tanner had come down to wait for her. The large room was empty save for the clerk behind the desk, who was an old woman with thinning gray hair.

  Benedetti spoke to the woman in French. After giving her the name she had made the room reservations under, Benedetti took the rickety elevator up to Tanner’s hotel room. Under one arm was a package. It contained the new sets of identity papers, cell phones, and the money Tanner had requested.

  The third floor of the old building had twelve rooms.

  Upon his arrival at the hotel, Tanner had changed his assigned room near the elevator to one that was near the stairway. Outside the room’s lone window was a fire escape which gave him another exit in case he needed it.

  Damián Sandoval was in the room across the hall from Tanner. Two other hotel guests were on the floor as well; their rooms were back near the elevators.

  When her knock wasn’t answered right away Benedetti grew impatient. As she was about to knock again, she sensed that someone was standing behind her. When she spun around, she found Tanner st
aring at her.

  “The door isn’t locked.”

  “That’s not too smart. What if someone entered while you were gone?”

  “No one did, or the strand of hair I stuck between the door and the jam would have fallen to the floor.”

  Benedetti made a sound of derision.

  “That old trick? Why not use a hidden camera?”

  “I didn’t have one; I did have hair.”

  Tanner reached past her and opened the door. Benedetti followed and looked around in displeasure at the tiny room.

  “Where were you just now, Tanner?”

  “I was down the street at a coffee shop watching the entrance of the hotel. I couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t show up with a surprise for me, like a team of CIA assassins.”

  “If I had my way I might have. But get on with it, tell me how you screwed things up this time.”

  Tanner relayed the events of what had happened since he’d last spoken to Benedetti. A huge smile alighted on Benedetti’s face when Tanner pulled the golden data drive from his pocket. It lasted until he told her he was certain it was a mere decoy.

  “How can you be sure? You weren’t stupid enough to plug it into an unsecured computer, were you?”

  “No. But if it was the real deal Vernon wouldn’t have left it behind. Anyway, it always seemed odd that Bishop would display it so openly.”

  “I’ll have it checked out, even though I think you might be right for once.”

  Tanner had opened the package Benedetti had brought with her. When he spotted an item he hadn’t asked for, he held it up. The object was roughly Tanner’s flesh tone in color and smaller than the tip of his little finger.

  “What is this?”

  “That is a state of the art communication device. It has a long range, and can both receive and transmit. I have one as well.”

  Benedetti demonstrated how the device was used. Tanner placed it inside his right ear and looked in the bathroom mirror. The gadget was undetectable.

  “I have news as well, although you were vague on the phone I caught your meaning and had research done overnight. We believe a man named Boldizsár Magyar may be the one who supplied Vernon with the killers you mentioned. He’s Hungarian by birth, but he lives in Belgium.”

  “I’ve heard of him.”

  “Ostensibly, Magyar runs a security service specializing in armed bodyguards. His real profession is training and managing teams of assassins.”

  “I faced one of his teams in New York City years ago. I was unimpressed.”

  “You mean you killed them?”

  “Yes.”

  Tanner resumed his tale. When he revealed who he had needed the other hotel room for, Benedetti exploded.

  “How stupid can you be? Damián Sandoval? You’re telling me that you had the United States government foot the bill for a hotel room for a Mexican cartel leader?”

  “No one will ever know, and the man could prove useful.”

  Benedetti’s hands curled into claws as she gripped her hair and paced in a circle.

  “I know you’re an amateur, Tanner, even so, I thought you had some basic sense of propriety and common sense. Why the hell would you trust the man? He tried to have you killed.”

  “I don’t trust him, but he has resources and contacts I may need. Besides, I don’t have a cover identity to keep intact anymore, remember?”

  “I know, and you have Sandoval to thank for that. Goddamn it, how I wish Hanover had listen to me and tried sending in more agents. You’re worse than an amateur, and don’t think I believe all the stories that are told about you, because I know the truth.”

  “What truth is that?”

  “You’re an incompetent! I knew it ever since you claimed to have killed Julien Adams years ago and the man was actually still alive.”

  “If you know about Adams then you also know that the man was using body doubles. The first man I killed was a double, but I did kill Julien Adams. And just like then, I won’t quit until I’ve done what I’ve come here to do.”

  Benedetti smirked.

  “Unless Cal Vernon and his hired guns kill you first.”

  A memory had stirred in Tanner’s mind at the mention of Julien Adams, when it rose to the surface, a revelation came to him.

  “When I killed Adams aboard his yacht he’d been expecting me. A CIA agent named Cole McManus sold me out and told me that he did it on orders from a superior. That was you, wasn’t it Benedetti? You also gave my location to Omar Ali Rashid, and Rashid attempted to kill a friend of mine.”

  Benedetti tried to smile; the attempt faltered and resembled a sneer.

  “You have no proof, Tanner.”

  “I promised myself if I ever found out who set me up I would see that person dead, and here you are, standing right in front of me.”

  Benedetti attempted to reach inside her purse, which was unzipped. Tanner slapped it from her hands and when it hit the floor, a gun slid into view. Tanner picked up the Glock and aimed it at Benedetti’s midsection.

  “You promised not to kill me! Remember, Tanner? You gave your word to Hanover. Kill me and Sara Blake goes to prison.”

  Tanner lowered the gun.

  “I remember my promise, but I’ll tell you this, you won’t get away with what you did.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Tanner opened the door.

  “Leave. I’ll contact you when I learn something new.”

  Benedetti placed her hands on her hips.

  “I’m your handler, Tanner, you’re not mine.”

  Tanner moved closer to Benedetti and his intense eyes shone with hatred.

  “I’m not one of your CIA recruits. I can’t be handled.”

  Benedetti tried to maintain eye contact. She failed. After a pause she grabbed up her fallen purse and headed for the door.

  “I’ve chartered a jet to take us to Brussels. Be at the airport at noon.”

  Benedetti was in the hallway when she remembered her gun. She stood on the other side of the open doorway and held out her hand.

  “I want my weapon back.”

  “The hell with you,” Tanner said, and slammed the door in her face.

  31

  Making Plans

  Damián Sandoval stepped out of his room as the sound of Benedetti’s high heels slapped against the worn wooden floors of the hotel corridor.

  “I was watching through the peephole. That CIA woman is a true beauty.”

  “Don’t let the packaging fool you. She’s rotten inside,” Tanner said. He then grabbed one of the phones Benedetti had delivered, freed it from its plastic packaging with a knife, and tossed it across the hall to Sandoval. The cartel leader caught it and smiled.

  “I will call my people and discover if there is any news.”

  “Do that, and how many men are you expecting?”

  “Only four, but they are some of my best.”

  “You should still lie low. Vernon has hooked up with a man named Boldizsár Magyar. Magyar is a trainer of assassins and he rents them out as teams to anyone who can pay.”

  “I will remain in Toulouse for another day or two,” Sandoval said, and after looking back at his tiny room he added, “In far more suitable accommodations.”

  Tanner pointed at the phone in Sandoval’s hand.

  “Use that to talk to your contacts. I know Europe isn’t your area of influence, on the other hand, your cartel distributes drugs here. You must have sources you can tap for information.”

  “I know a man who operates in Belgium. He should know something; however, it will take me some time to track him down.”

  “Fine. Make the calls and then we’ll go eat.”

  Sandoval closed his door and Tanner did the same on his side of the hall. He then paced about the small room while thinking of Benedetti.

  The friend who was almost killed by Omar Ali Rashid had been Alexa Lucia, and she had been more than a friend at the time.

  Tanner owed Benedetti for sel
ling him out, and thanks to his vow, he couldn’t harm her directly. While seated on the side of the bed he thought about how he could keep his word and still gain a measure of vengeance. When the answer came to him he smiled.

  After unpackaging another phone, he recalled a cell number he kept memorized.

  When the call was answered, he heard a familiar voice.

  “Who is this, and how can I help you?”

  “It’s Tanner, Duke. I need something special, but I’m not certain of the timing.”

  “Tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen.”

  “That’s what I like about you, Duke, you never say no.”

  “It’s nice to know you like me. I’ve seen what happens to people you don’t like.”

  “Speaking of which…”

  Later that morning, Tanner and Sandoval were having brunch at a trendy tourist spot. Sandoval had a sweet tooth that he indulged by eating pastry for breakfast. Tanner was more practical and had a meal of steak frites au poivre. It was steak served with a creamy sauce and French fries.

  As they ate, Sandoval told Tanner what he had learned on the phone. Magyar was in Brussels and had an American client whose description matched Cal Vernon.

  “Vernon suspects that you survived, Tanner. He has people looking for you in Brussels. Since we know he’s connected with Boldizsár Magyar, we can assume that Magyar’s assassins will be ready for you.”

  “Vernon is relying on Magyar’s men to protect him. If I prove to him that they won’t be enough he’ll go on the run and be vulnerable.”

  “I was told that Magyar has dozens of men at his disposal, although they aren’t all assassins. In any event, Vernon has the money to hire all of them if needed. When you arrive in Brussels you’ll be a target.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on. When I cut a swarth through Magyar’s troops Vernon will get nervous. He had everyone murdered at the chateau in the hope it would allow him time to transition into a new life. Once he knows for certain that I survived he’ll realize the United States knows what happened and that he now has the data.”