The Tanner Series - Books 1-11: Tanner - The hit man with a heart

by Remington Kane

  At the club, Johnny met with Al Trent. Even at six in the morning Trent looked well-groomed and was dressed in his usual suit and tie.

  “Mr. Richards doesn’t think the problem lies in the quantity of the manpower, but the quality.”

  “What the hell does that mean? Joe Pullo ran the best crew in the city, but this Tanner, the bastard has more luck than I’ve ever seen. I mean he aced over a dozen guys last night and made off with a bundle of cash while he was at it. This shit is getting embarrassing!”

  “Tanner is superb, we recognize that and we’re bringing in a man who’s even better.”

  “Who?”

  “Lars Gruber.”

  “What? Wasn’t that the name of the villain in Die Hard?”

  Trent sighed. “No, Lars Gruber is the best assassin in the world.”

  “Wait! You’re talking about the German dude, right? Hell, he’s better than Tanner, but he’s in Europe.”

  “No, he’s in California and should be finishing an assignment any day now. When he does, he’ll come here and kill Tanner.”

  Johnny snapped his fingers as he remembered something.

  “Jackie Verona, the Underboss of the Calvino Family, Gruber killed Jackie’s son, Tony, when the kid turned snitch last year, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, and that man was guarded by US Marshals at a safe house. Tanner should be a walk in the park.”

  “Maybe so, but snitch or not, Jackie will want Gruber dead for what he did to his son.”

  “We’re aware of that, Mr. Rossetti.”

  Johnny stared at Trent and understood.

  “Jackie’s days are numbered, aren’t they? You’re going to wrap him up in a bow for Gruber. What? Was that part of his compensation for coming here?”

  “I never said that, but I will say this. If Mr. Verona changes his routine, or suddenly takes a vacation, I’ll assure Mr. Richards that it was you who caused him to do so and you’ll be wearing your own bow, understood?”

  “You’re a real cocksucker, aren’t you, Trent?”

  Trent smiled without displaying teeth, turned and left the club.

  90

  Buddy, Baffles, And Bodyguards

  SANTA BARBARA, CALIFORNIA

  John Mattson saw the classic Cadillac driving toward him and gave his partner, Harvey Cross, a nudge.

  “Heads-up,” Mattson said.

  He and Cross were bodyguards, and their current employer was a man who had refused to join the Conglomerate, although he didn’t know it by that name, and later refused an offer to sell his company.

  The man had then been approached by a Conglomerate thug who was far less sophisticated than the business types he had seen before. The thug didn’t touch him, but he did give him a deadline to sell.

  That deadline had come and gone, and since that day the man traveled nowhere without bodyguards, not even to the home of his mistress, which is where he had spent the night.

  It was an upper-class neighborhood and the home was in a cul-de-sac, where the houses had broad sloping lawns and wide driveways.

  Harvey Cross had been dozing behind the wheel of the armored limo he drove while working, but he looked up to see what had caught Mattson’s attention.

  “Hey, I know that car, that’s Buddy’s car.”

  “Who’s Buddy?”

  “He’s a guy that hangs out at the sports bar I drink at, he said that old Caddy belonged to his father, it’s a ‘61.”

  “He drives like he’s drunk.”

  “He might be; he can really put it away.”

  The car in question was a convertible that had tail fins in the back. It was light purple with a white interior.

  The car parked in a driveway across the street from the home Cross’s employer slept in, and a blond man in his thirties staggered out and headed up the walk.

  Cross lowered his window and called to him.

  “Yo, Buddy, you live here?”

  Buddy turned and stared at Cross blankly, but then recognition dawned on his face, was accompanied by a wide smile, and Buddy walked over to the limo and peeked in.

  “Harvey? What are you doing here?”

  “I’m working. My employer is dating your neighbor.”

  Buddy laughed at that. “Dating? You mean she’s screwing him for favors. The wife and I always wondered how she afforded to rent that house.”

  Harvey waved a hand in an effort to disperse Buddy’s breath.

  “I see you closed down the bar.”

  “Yeah and the wife is gonna give me shit.”

  Harvey pointed past Buddy to a woman standing in the doorway of the home where he had parked the vintage Caddy. The woman had her hair up in red curlers and wore a floral-print robe. She was looking at the car with a quizzical expression.

  “Is that your wife?” Harvey said.

  Buddy turned to look, then, swiveled back toward Harvey with a silenced gun in his hand. When he spoke, his voice had a German accent.

  “I’ve never seen that cow before in my life.”

  Buddy, who was actually Lars Gruber, shot Harvey and his partner Mattson a combined eight times, killing both men. The slaughter made surprisingly little noise, and the woman on the porch called to him, oblivious to what had just happened.

  “Is this your car?”

  It wasn’t his car. It belonged to an eighty-year-old widower who was in the hospital. Gruber had taken the car from the man’s garage and used it while he played the part of Buddy.

  Gruber nodded to the woman while smiling, walked over, and shot her in the face. She fell backwards into her home, as a cat whizzed by her and ran off into the night.

  Gruber winced, that last shot made a bit of sound as the baffles within the silencer, which was a military grade sound suppressor, eroded from the heat of use, as he had employed it on his last three jobs.

  While screwing a new silencer onto the gun, Gruber looked around to see if anyone was watching. No one was, and he marched across the street, where he carried out his assignment.

  The victim’s wife would be approached shortly after the funeral and would sell her late husband’s company to a Conglomerate representative. In the meantime, Gruber was headed to New York City; his target, a man named Tanner.

  91

  Right Back At Ya

  Rafe limped off the elevator and walked over to his car in the hotel’s parking garage. Even though he was looking for him, he didn’t spot Tanner until he was nearly at the car.

  The garage was underground and Rafe’s car was near the ramp that led up to the street, where outside the night was fading away to dawn.

  “Are you making fun of my limp or do you have one of your own now?”

  “I underestimated a senior citizen, but let’s talk in the car.”

  Rafe climbed behind the wheel while Tanner sat in the passenger seat. Tanner had dressed his wound and changed clothes. He was wearing jeans with a gray hoodie and running shoes.

  “I watched the news before I left my room. It seems like the Giacconi Crime Family is in a war, the only thing is, no one seems to know for certain who they’re fighting. For now, it’s being blamed on the Russian mob.”

  “The reporters are behind the times, the Giacconis and the Russians made peace years ago.”

  “A blog called Street View mentioned you by name yesterday, but the TV news anchors are saying that one man couldn’t cause this much grief on the Giacconi Family. They also said that you were an urban myth. What’s that about?”

  “I’m not the first assassin to go by the name Tanner; it was passed down to me, and they’re right when they say I couldn’t have done it alone, because you helped me with Pullo’s men.”

  “But that chaos last night, was that all you?”

  “It was, and I’m not through yet.”

  “Johnny Rossetti?”

  “Johnny Rossetti, or would you like the honor?”

  Rafe smiled. “My brother came out of his coma, so I’ve lost the fire in my belly, but I’ll stay h
ere for another day. If you need help, just say the word.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. I may need you for a diversion soon, likely tonight.”

  “I’m in; I still owe them for my brother.”

  Tanner opened his door to get out. “Take care of that leg.”

  “Right back at ya,” Rafe said, and Tanner limped up the ramp and was gone.

  Tim and Madison stopped for breakfast after leaving MegaZenith, and Madison told Tim about her last conversation with Reese.

  “When I told him I was quitting he asked for my phone number, can you believe that?”

  “I don’t blame him for trying.”

  Madison reached over and took Tim’s hand. “What are you doing today?”

  “First, I’ll get some sleep, but I’m meeting Tanner later.”

  “Come back to my place. You can help me pack.”

  “Pack? Where are you going?”

  Madison leaned across the table and gave Tim a long kiss.

  “I go where you go, or haven’t you noticed that I have a thing for you?”

  “You’ll really come with me? You know, where I’m going, it’s far from the city. Hell, it’s far from everything.”

  “I don’t care. There’s nothing holding me here anymore.”

  They finished their meal and made their way to Madison’s apartment downtown, where they stood outside her doorway, kissing.

  When they separated, Madison fished out her keys. As she opened the door, there came the sound of pounding footsteps.

  Tim had just enough time to see that it was Carl Reese rushing toward them, before Reese collided with him and Madison, shoving them both inside and onto the floor.

  Madison opened her mouth to scream and Reese pointed a gun at her in warning, before slamming the door shut with his foot.

  Reese smiled at the couple. “Now, it’s time I heard the truth. Start talking.”

  92

  What’s Good For The Goose

  Tim helped Madison off the floor, then he stood in front of her to shield her from Carl Reese’s gun.

  Madison’s apartment was modern, but small, and began with a living room, which was separated from a tiny kitchen by a waist-high glass block wall. There was a sofa in front of the wall, and Reese gestured with the gun for Tim and Madison to sit on it.

  Once they settled before him with their hands clasped together, Reese took a few steps to his right and gazed down the short hallway, where he glimpsed a view of Madison’s bedroom.

  He sent her a wink.

  “You and I will explore that room later, but right now I want what you stole out of MegaZenith’s computers.”

  Tim opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Reese raised a finger to his own lips.

  “Don’t give me any lies, Timmy boy, just give me what I came for.”

  Tim released Madison’s hand and reached into his side pocket. When his hand came out, it was holding a flash drive.

  Reese ripped it from his hand and grinned.

  “I don’t know what’s on here, but I would bet it’ll make me rich.”

  “It’s useless without the encryption key,” Tim said.

  “I doubt that. I’d also be willing to bet that MegaZenith’s competitors will know how to crack the encryption.”

  “You got what you wanted, now just leave us alone,” Madison said, and it broke Tim’s heart to hear the fear in her voice.

  Reese smiled a big happy grin as he sat in a love seat across from the sofa, which was separated by a coffee table.

  “Now that we’ve gotten our business out of the way, let’s say we have fun. Drew, what do you have to drink here?”

  “What?”

  “Refreshments, do you have any liquor?”

  “No, just milk, soda, and cans of an energy drink.”

  “Soda will do. Be a good girl and pour three glasses for us, and if you come back in here with a knife in your hand I’ll kneecap little Timmy, you get me?”

  Madison nodded as tears glistened in her eyes. She went into the kitchen, poured cola into three clear plastic cups, and placed them on the glass block wall, which had a Formica counter atop it.

  “Bring me my drink,” Reese said.

  Madison handed him one of the cups and Reese smiled at her while his eyes roamed over her body.

  “God, you are one hot little piece of ass, aren’t you? Tell me, Timmy, does she give good head? Oh, never mind, I’ll find out soon enough.”

  Madison backed away and Reese laughed again.

  “Bring in those other drinks and sit them on the coffee table in front of me.”

  Madison went back into the kitchen and Reese drank his soda. As he swallowed the last of it, he leaned his head back, but his eyes never left Tim.

  When the other two cups were placed before him, he took out a baggie that held chunky white powder.

  “I’ve got a surprise, kiddies, something to spruce up your drinks.”

  “Cocaine?” Tim asked.

  Madison shook her head. “No, that’s Rohypnol. Ground up Rohypnol.”

  Tim stared at her in shock. Reese was about to do to them the very thing they had once planned for him.

  Reese laughed. “Send that girl to the head of the class. Yes, sweet thing, these are roofies, and it’s going to make you nice and friendly.”

  “I won’t drink it,” Madison said, as Reese divided the contents of the bag between the two glasses of soda.

  Reese nodded. “I thought you’d say that.”

  He stood, walked around the coffee table and kicked Tim hard in the face, twice, splitting his bottom lip open.

  Madison let out a shriek as Tim slid down the sofa, looking dazed.

  “Drink, bitch! Drink or I’ll keep kicking him until there’s nothing left.”

  Madison picked up a glass, but she had to calm herself before she could swallow.

  “All of it,” Reese said. “And you too, Timmy. It’ll keep you nice and docile while Drew and I get to know each other.”

  Tim drank, but had to tilt his head sideways to keep it in his mouth, which seemed numbed and painful at the same time. He didn’t taste the Rohypnol, but he did taste his own blood.

  After they both drank, Reese sat back down and waited for the drug to take effect.

  Madison grabbed a wad of tissues from a box on the coffee table and tended to Tim’s busted lip, while standing in front of him. As she dabbed at the blood with one hand, she reached into her bra and removed an empty foil packet.

  She whispered to Tim. “I drugged him too.”

  When Madison sat back beside him, Tim stared across at a grinning Carl Reese and wondered which of them would pass out first.

  93

  Ewww, That’s Nasty

  With Tanner rampaging throughout the city, Frank Richards decided to leave his Park Avenue apartment and retreat to his 35-acre estate, which was in the quaint hamlet of Katonah, New York, situated on the bank of the Cross River Reservoir.

  He arrived there with ten highly trained bodyguards and was confident that if Tanner made an appearance, the estate’s security system would give them ample time to prepare. The home also had a panic room in the basement. As a last resort, Richards could cower there until Tanner was killed or left the property.

  Al Trent entered the massive living room and stopped short when he saw the painting hanging over the fireplace. It was much like the one Richards displayed at his Park Avenue apartment, but larger, giving it greater detail.

  It was a portrait of Richards’ late mother.

  “Madison really does resemble your mother, sir.”

  “That she does, but let’s not speak of her. She’s made her decision and she’s no longer a part of my life.”

  “That saddens me. I had harbored a desire that she and I might one day wed.”

  “I knew you were attracted to her, but I didn’t know you felt that strongly about her.”

  “She’s a lovely girl, but it was more a desire to be a part of your
family, since you’ve always been sort of a father to me.”

  Richards smirked. “Careful Al, you’re venturing into bootlicking territory.”

  Four guards remained outside to patrol the grounds, while the six remaining guards inside stood about. They were close, but not close enough to hear the conversation.

  Richards settled himself behind an ornate desk with spindly legs and placed his briefcase atop it.

  “I understand that Gruber finished his assignment in California. When can we expect him here?”

  “His flight will be arriving soon. He says he already has an idea of how to kill Tanner.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “He didn’t go into detail, but I believe he’ll be using Johnny Rossetti as bait.”

  “When you speak to him, assure him that Johnny would be an acceptable loss.”

  Trent smiled. “I will do that with pleasure, sir.”

  “Has there been any sign of Tanner since he dispatched those men in the Bowery?”

  “No sir, but we expect more trouble tonight.”

  “Lars Gruber will handle Tanner. Tanner’s gifted at what he does, I’ll give him that, but Gruber is far and away his better.”

  “He’s certainly well compensated. I understand he asked for a quarter of a million dollars?”

  “He did, and I agreed to pay it. This nonsense has gone on long enough.”

  Trent gazed up at the portrait again.

  “May I take a tour of the house, sir? I’ll show myself around if you don’t mind.”

  “That’s fine, but don’t be too long. Remember, you have to meet Gruber in the city. And while you’re doing that, I’ll be here working. Despite everything going on, I still have a corporation to run.”

  “Yes sir, I won’t be long.”

  Trent went up the staircase. There were no servants in the home, as Richards had given them the next few days off. If Tanner did show, Richards didn’t need witnesses around to view his capture and murder.