[Tanner 16.0] To Kill a Killer

by Remington Kane

  “Likely, and I’ll do it if Durand can come up with real intel on Scallato’s whereabouts.”

  “I think there’s a good chance that Scallato will go home to Sicily,” Sara said.

  “So do I, but there are over five million people there, and for all we know, Scallato could be anywhere.”

  Two days later. Raguso, Sicily, population: 2,300

  Maurice Scallato breathed in the sweet air of his homeland as he took in the sights and the sounds of the old fishing dock. Feeling eyes upon his back, Scallato turned to find a man staring at him.

  It was the local priest and Scallato sent him a wave. In the town of Raguso, Scallato was known by the name of Maurice Rizzo. The priest, Father Rossetti, sent Scallato a smile and headed toward him. He was without doubt coming over to pester Scallato about attending church on Sunday, or perhaps to ask for a charitable donation.

  When the priest was stopped by a pair of old women, Scallato left the area quickly. Raguso was small, and so Scallato reached the center of town in less than a mile. He had been gone longer than he’d intended, but the picturesque town looked no different.

  That opinion changed when he saw a shopkeeper hand over an envelope to a fat man Scallato had never seen before. The extortion of business owners was practically a tradition in Raguso, but Scallato noticed that the shopkeeper looked defeated. Perhaps there was someone new running the local mob and they were bleeding the merchants dry. That was not good business, nor was it good for the town. Scallato grew curious enough to follow the thug as he went along his collection route.

  The fat man was soon joined by two partners. One was very tall and rough looking, while the other was short and somewhat handsome. Despite their differences, if Scallato had to guess, he’d say that they were brothers.

  As the three men were headed inside the fish market, a woman was exiting holding a package of saltwater bass. She was a good-looking woman in her thirties and two of the brothers, the fat one and the tall one, spoke to her while leering at her legs.

  When the tall brute reached out to touch the woman’s luxurious raven hair, she smacked him across the face with her bundle of fish. That made the men laugh, and after cursing at them, the woman went on her way.

  Scallato had seen enough of the men and decided to follow the woman home. He enjoyed watching her walk, as her shapely hips swayed beneath her dress. She lived on the outskirts of town in a house that was larger than most in the area. It was secluded and peaceful, with woodland on three sides and a steep cliff at its rear that was over a hundred feet high.

  Scallato knew that if the woman screamed, no one would hear her. After dropping his duffel bag behind a tree, he came up on the woman fast. She had been opening the door and Scallato grabbed her about the waist from behind, causing the packet of fish to fall to the floor. A spirited woman, she produced a blade even as she let out a cry of surprise.

  Scallato disarmed her with ease while kicking the door shut with his foot. An instant later he had her bent over the kitchen table as his right hand held her struggling form and his left hand caressed her breasts.

  The hate was visible in the woman’s eyes as she turned her head to glare at him. The vehemence in her gaze softened immediately and a laugh escape her.

  “Maurice, you animal.”

  “Is that any way to speak to your husband?”

  Scallato loosened his grip and his wife, Maria, turned around to embrace him. After a long kiss, Maria took a step back to study him.

  “Oh, look how thin you are, and there’s a scar on your chin.”

  “I had a bit of difficulty due to an earthquake.”

  “An earthquake?”

  “I survived. I will always survive.”

  Maria took her husband by the hand and moved toward the bedroom.

  “The children won’t be home for another two hours.”

  “How is my son?”

  “Antonio is fine, but he misses you, as does Anna, and yesterday was her birthday.”

  “Really? I hope you brought a gift for her.”

  “I bought her a few gifts, but having you home again will be the best present, Anna adores you.”

  “And how do you feel about me?”

  Maria smiled as she began unzipping her dress.

  “You’re about to find out.”

  7

  A Deal For A Kill

  Jacques Durand sent Sara a smile even as his eyes studied Tanner.

  The ex-Interpol agent turned true crime writer was in his fifties, had wavy brown hair, and a pair of sleepy eyes. The eyes belied Durand’s true nature. He was as sharp as they came.

  Before the meeting, Tanner had asked Sara to describe Durand’s character and Sara said she would have to classify the man as cool.

  “He reminds me of you in that way, Tanner, he seems imperturbable.”

  “Maybe he knows something we don’t.”

  “You don’t think we should trust him?”

  “Just don’t let your guard down,” Tanner had said.

  The meeting took place in an upscale bar in Berlin, Germany, where Sara and Tanner had flown to meet up with Durand.

  Tanner had chosen the bar’s location after visiting it earlier and determining several ways to escape if things went bad. The bar was in an old brick building, while the meeting took place in a back booth. Before taking a seat, Durand had removed his suit jacket as a way of showing Tanner that he wasn’t carrying a weapon. When Tanner mentioned the small gun hidden away on the inside of Durand’s boot, the Frenchman’s upper lip twitched.

  “You have a keen eye, Tanner. The gun and holster are colored cobalt blue to match my socks. I’ve even had it missed during a frisk once.”

  “What sort of gun is it, a Beretta Nano?”

  “Correct.”

  Never much of one for chitchat, Tanner got right down to business after their drinks came.

  “I need a line on Maurice Scallato’s whereabouts. Can you help me with that, Durand?”

  “Possibly, but why don’t we order something to eat and talk things over?”

  “Either you can help, or you can’t, which is it?”

  Durand straightened his back and glared at Tanner.

  “I know you’re an American, Tanner, but that’s no reason to be so brusque.” Durand smiled at Sara. “I enjoy Miss Blake’s company and do not wish it to end too soon.”

  Tanner leaned forward and spoke in a low voice, so that his words wouldn’t carry. Although there was a soft murmur in the bar and music played over a sound system, it was always best to discuss murder in whispers.

  “If you have info on Scallato you’ll want something for it. That something will be a hit on a difficult target. Tell me who you want dead and I’ll kill them, but I’ll want a hard lead on Scallato’s whereabouts in return.”

  When Tanner leaned back in his seat, Durand made a sniffing sound.

  “You have no class, Tanner. I wonder if you’re up to killing Maurice Scallato. Scallato is truly the best assassin that’s ever lived.”

  Tanner slid out of the booth.

  “You’re wasting my time.”

  Sara looked up at Tanner and then over at Durand.

  “Jacques, can you help us?”

  Durand raised an eyebrow.

  “You’ve involved yourself in this, Sara? That could prove fatal if Scallato kills Tanner.”

  “I know that, which means I have nothing to worry about. Now please, let’s talk business.”

  Durand gestured for Tanner to sit again. Tanner continued to stand, and Durand sneered at him before speaking.

  “I know people and still have many contacts in law enforcement circles. Perhaps something can be worked out.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “About my contacts?”

  “You’re lying about who you are. You claim to be retired from Interpol and just a writer with some clout, but you’re more than that.”

  Sara had been looking at Tanner, but her gaze turned to Dura
nd.

  “Jacques, is Tanner right?”

  Durand’s face displayed nothing, but then, a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

  “Maybe you’re sharper than you look, Tanner. Yes, I am still active, but not with Interpol. The organization I head is, what you would call… unconventional.”

  “Which is why you’re fighting fire with fire,” Tanner said. “Or in this case, pitting hit man against hit man.”

  “Yes, and the winner will be eligible for future contracts, but I only hire the best.”

  “To face off against Scallato I have to find him first. Can you help me with that?”

  “We don’t know the whereabouts of Scallato, but we do know where he might someday show up.”

  “Explain that,” Tanner said, as he once again took a seat.

  “The whereabouts of Maurice Scallato’s father, Carlo Scallato, has recently been discovered. The old man is in an Italian nursing home under an alias. It’s believed that the younger Scallato will come to visit the old man someday.”

  “The nursing home is under surveillance?”

  “Unfortunately, no, the people at the top refused to allocate the resources needed for full-time surveillance.”

  “So, Scallato could have come and gone from there already?”

  “Yes, but if so, it is likely that he will return someday, no?”

  Tanner frowned.

  “Why is the old man in the nursing home?”

  “He suffers from dementia, which I believe is in its early stages.”

  “If his dementia isn’t late-stage, then he may still be aware enough to give me a lead on his son.”

  Durand looked doubtful.

  “Why would the old bastard help you?”

  “He likely won’t, but if I can get him to talking, something may slip out.”

  “Possibly, so what do you say, do we have a deal?”

  “It’s a good lead, but Scallato might not show up for months.”

  Durand made a small shrugging motion.

  “Or, he could be there when you arrive.”

  Tanner turned to look at Sara.

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s a long shot, but it’s better than nothing.”

  Tanner looked down at the table for a moment as he considered things. When he looked up, he stared at Durand.

  “I want the name of that nursing home. Who do I have to kill to get it?”

  The target was an Algerian terrorist named Malek Kalah.

  Kalah was living in Berlin and was unofficially under the protection of Germany’s Federal Intelligence Service. The Germans made a deal with Kalah, in which he secretly betrayed several fellow terrorists in exchange for his freedom. Malek Kalah rarely left his brick townhouse and was protected by four bodyguards.

  Two attempts had been made on Kalah’s life by Durand’s people and both failed. It was rumored that he had a safe room that could withstand an assault by a tank. However, his bodyguards were well-trained and had killed both assassins before they ever reached their boss, Malek Kalah.

  The assassins sent to kill Kalah were considered to have been two of the best, and one had often been compared to the late elite assassin, Lars Gruber.

  It was their failure that prompted Durand to approach Tanner by way of Sara. Durand’s people had become aware that Scallato was out to kill Tanner to prove his superiority. In any event, the two appeared to be the best assassins on the planet, although Scallato would work for anyone who paid, regardless of the target.

  Still, if Scallato triumphed over Tanner, Durand would offer him future contracts when the need arose. In Durand’s trade, sometimes you had to work with a devil to get things done.

  Tanner asked for and received details about the brick townhouse and the security set-up. He also had profiles of the four bodyguards and Kalah.

  Sara was reading her copy of the reports about the bodyguards, while Tanner read a report about Kalah. When Sara finished reading about the guards, she wore a worried look.

  “These aren’t your average bodyguards, Tanner. They’re a four-man team that’s been together for nine years and have never lost a client. Before starting their security company, they met while working as mercenaries in Africa. While there, they successfully defeated the guardsmen of a warlord when the odds against them were twenty-to-one.”

  “The fact that they’re a tightknit team is bad news for them; it means I can’t leave any of them alive or they would seek revenge.”

  “Battling them head-on will alert Kalah and he’ll hide in his safe room. Do you have a way to prevent that?”

  Tanner held up the profile of Kalah he’d been reading.

  “Yeah, I think I might even know a way to lure him out of his building.”

  Malek Kalah and his mother had moved to the UK from Algeria when he was only thirteen. Young Malek began getting into trouble immediately. By the time he was fifteen he was running a street gang that specialized in snatch & grab robberies along with street muggings.

  Malek Kalah held hatred for the homeless, and his gang and he would often beat any vagrants they saw on the street. At nineteen, Kalah crossed the line into murder when he set a homeless man on fire.

  He’d been wearing his gang colors and was caught on the CCTV cameras committing the vile act. His face hadn’t been captured, but his distinct jacket was identified, and the cops brought him in for questioning.

  Kalah’s lawyer advised Kalah to say nothing and Kalah did just that. Once he was released on bail, Kalah talked one of the local kids into taking the fall. The other boy, an English punk named Johnny Whitman, had only been fifteen and wanted to prove that he had what it took to be a gang member. Although he was tried as an adult, Kalah’s lawyer managed to get Whitman a lenient six-year sentence that would see him set free on his twenty-first birthday.

  During Whitman’s six-year sentence, Kalah had grown more sophisticated and opened a nightclub. He had also become radicalized and entered the drug trade.

  Johnny Whitman, the boy who’d taken the fall for Kalah had grown sadder, but wiser, and thought that Kalah had used him. Innocent or not, Whitman had to finish out his sentence. While passing his best years away in prison, the boy had come to hate Kalah. However, Whitman made the mistake of talking too much. Kalah learned from an ex-con that Whitman was planning on seeking revenge as soon as he was released.

  When that day arrived, Johnny Whitman took a bus into London with the intention of hunting down Kalah. Instead, he was accosted by three men and tossed into the rear of a van. The next thing Johnny Whitman knew, he had his hands bound behind his back and was having a hood placed over his head. Rough hands moved over his body as if he were being frisked, and then he felt something wet splash over him.

  When the odor of gasoline reached Whitman’s nose, he began bucking wildly upon the floor of the van to get free. His thrashing ended when a sap struck the back of his head. Kalah didn’t have Whitman killed; he had other plans for him.

  Whitman awoke in an alleyway next to the smoldering remains of a homeless man. His wrists were unbound, and although his head throbbed, he was still able to make it to his feet and stumble out of the alleyway.

  The police picked him up less than an hour later as he sat on a park bench. His clothing stunk of gasoline and in his back pocket was an old Swiss army knife. The knife was later identified by other homeless citizens as having been the property of the man who had been burned alive in the alleyway.

  Whitman shouted his innocence while attempting to implicate Kalah. However, since he’d already served a sentence for a similar crime, and given the evidence against him, he was sent to a maximum-security prison. Whitman later died during a foolish escape attempt. When Kalah learned Whitman had died, he laughed and called the dead man a born loser.

  “How will you use Kalah’s hatred of homeless people against him?” Sara asked.

  She and Tanner were eating at an outdoor café that seemed to be a favorite of the college crowd. S
ara was eating a dish called Eintopf, a German stew, while Tanner was having Bratwurst with a double side of German sauerkraut. Both were drinking strong German beer with their meal. Tanner took notice that Sara was keeping up with him as they ordered their fourth round.

  “I’m going to camp out in view of Kalah’s building and pretend that I’m homeless. If I’m annoying enough, he might feel the need to confront me himself.”

  “Maybe, but what if he sends his guards out to harass you instead?”

  Tanner smiled.

  “I’ve a plan in mind for that too.”

  Loud laughter erupted from a nearby table. It was followed by an exchange of German between two young couples.

  “My German isn’t good enough to keep up with them. What were they laughing at?” Sara asked Tanner, who was fluent in many languages.

  “They were talking about a friend who fainted in the delivery room. It was a boy by the way, 7 pounds, 9 ounces.”

  Sara smiled, then asked a question.

  “Have you ever thought of having children?”

  “My lifestyle isn’t exactly of the domestic variety.”

  “Were any of the previous Tanner’s father and son?”

  “No, and it’s amazing that the Scallato’s were able to keep passing down the skills. Not everyone can kill, and far less can do it well and while under pressure.”

  “And will there be a Tanner Eight someday?”

  “If I live long enough and find the right man to train, but what about you? Do you want children?”

  Sara gave it some thought and nodded.

  “Yes, someday, I think I would like to have a daughter.”

  “Nadya had a daughter. She and Romeo named her Florentina, that was the name of Romeo’s mother.”

  Sara slapped Tanner on the arm.

  “Why didn’t you tell me she had the baby?”

  “I just did, and I’m surprised you care so much.”

  “I like Nadya, and Romeo. Will you be going to see the baby?”