“I will, as soon as I deal with Scallato.”
“Give them both my love, and bring back pictures, Uncle Tanner.”
Tanner stared at Sara as a thought occurred to him.
“When I go to visit them why don’t you come with me?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, and it will also give you a chance to meet my mentor, Tanner Six.”
Sara said nothing for a moment, but then she reached over and took Tanner’s left hand, which was resting atop the table.
“I’m glad we survived each other.”
Tanner nodded in agreement, then wondered what the future would bring.
8
Like Father, Like Son
As he stood beside the breakfast table, Antonio Rizzo, who was actually Antonio Scallato, made a muscle with his right arm.
The thirteen-year-old was tall for his age and worked hard to get stronger. His father, Maurice Scallato, smiled with approval at his son’s biceps. The boy had grown several inches since Scallato had last seen him and Scallato decided that Antonio was ready to move to the next level. That would entail additional training… as well as an introduction into manhood.
“You’ll be as tall as I am someday, Antonio, but don’t get too bulky, there are times you might need to fit into tight spaces.”
“I know, Patri, but I wanted you to see that I’m still doing the exercises you taught me.”
“That’s good, but while I’m home we’ll work on your shooting skills.”
Scallato’s wife, Maria, turned her head to look at her husband. She was standing at the kitchen counter and spreading honey on the croissants they would have for breakfast, along with cereal.
“We’ve been practicing with the rifle while you were gone. Antonio has gotten better at long distance shooting.”
Scallato sent her a mock frown.
“You’ve been teaching my son to shoot?”
“Of course, if we waited for you to do it, he’d barely know anything.”
Scallato sighed.
“I know I haven’t been around much lately, but that will change soon.”
“Soon? Does that mean you’ll be leaving again?”
“Just a short trip to Italy to speak with a contact,” Scallato said. He then looked over at his son. “I’ll be leaving in a day or two and I’ll take Antonio with me. We’ll spend some time together.”
After the family ate breakfast and the children went off to school, Scallato walked out to the large shed on the property. In his identity of Maurice Rizzo, Scallato professed to work as a carpenter. His absences were accounted for by claims that he traveled to America to do well-paying union work.
The inside of the shed looked like a carpentry shop. There were two table saws, a lathe, a drill, and other tools and assorted lumber, plus screws and nails. Hidden away within the walls and beneath the benches was an arsenal and thousands of rounds of ammunition. Despite the concealed weaponry, Scallato was a skilled carpenter, and the floor of the shop was covered in sawdust from a table he’d been working on.
Scallato’s wife and son knew who he was, and that he was an assassin, but they had yet to clue in six-year-old Anna. However, the girl was smart, and had begun to ask questions, so she would be brought into the loop soon. If the child talked, or if the Scallato family became compromised in another way, they would have to flee their home and start over.
That had never happened to a Scallato. Keeping secrets was in the blood, as was the art of assassination. Young Antonio was being groomed to succeed his father, while his sister Anna would be told what a great honor and tradition she upheld by remaining silent. For her reward, Anna would never have to worry about money. And, knowing something that no one else knew came with its own perverse pleasure.
Maurice Scallato’s two older sisters settled in the UK and receive a generous monthly check from accounts their father set up decades earlier. The downside is that they can never have normal contact with the rest of the family. That is of little consequence, since Maurice Scallato cares nothing about them, and his sisters never liked him.
Maria knocked on the door of the shed at mid-morning and was let inside by Scallato, after he confirmed that she was alone by checking the camera feed on his phone.
He’d completed his table project and had been in the middle of cleaning his rifles and shotguns. They were laid out on a workbench.
“Who are those three fools I saw harassing you the other day?” Scallato asked his wife.
Anger filled Maria’s eyes.
“You saw that and did nothing?”
“Of course I did nothing. As Maurice Rizzo, the simple carpenter, I would have had to take a beating if I attempted to defend your honor in public. Otherwise, I would have had to reveal the fact that I had the skills to defeat three men. I will deal with them in private, as myself.”
The ire left Maria’s eye as she nodded in understanding. After taking a seat atop a wooden stool, she spoke.
“Their last name is Martello, but I don’t know any of their first names. Everyone just calls them the fat one, the tall one, and the short one. The fat one and the tall one are mean and stupid, it’s the short one that is their leader.”
“Did they kill old man Alleganti?”
“No, he just died, and you know his sons were worthless. Alleganti’s sons were either run off or killed, but now the Martello’s run the town.”
Scallato thought about that and asked a question.
“Did you write your brother about it?”
Maria made a face.
“I did, he said that you would handle it. He doesn’t want to get his hands dirty, but I bet you that he’ll send some of his people here to take the Martellos’ place once you kill them.”
“Yes, that sounds like Bruno.”
Bruno Allende was Maria’s brother. Like his father before him, he worked for Carmine Degussa, who ran the mob in Rome. The Scallato’s and the Allende’s had joined in marriage several times over the last two-hundred years, and Maria’s marriage to Maurice Scallato had been an arranged one. Many years earlier, fourteen-year-old Maurice had balked at meeting his future bride, who was also fourteen. He was a Scallato, he reminded his father, and Scallato’s did as they pleased.
“A wife will be good for you. She will help you to maintain a cover identity,” Carlo Scallato told his son.
“What does she look like?”
“I don’t know, but her mother was a handsome woman.”
“Handsome?”
“It’s an expression, it means she’s good looking.”
“Men are handsome, not women.”
“You’ll do as you’re told, boy, now be quiet.”
Young Maurice sulked the rest of the trip and wondered just how ugly this girl named Maria Allende would be. To his shock and delight, young Maria was not only beautiful, but looked old enough to pass for sixteen, as he himself did.
The shy girl blushed as Maurice took her hand, an act that upset their chaperones, who were two of Maria’s great aunts. Maurice ignored the “Tut tuts” of the old women and stared into Maria’s blue eyes.
“I am Maurice Scallato.”
“My name is Maria.”
“You are very beautiful, Maria, and I’m told that you will be my wife someday.”
Maria smiled as her shyness left her. She was an exceptional beauty and she knew it.
“Do you like what you see, Maurice?”
In answer, Maurice pulled Maria along by the hand and headed for his father’s car. Maria hesitated only for a moment before jumping into the seat beside him, then the two of them drove off. It was scandalous behavior and caused a temporary rift between the two families. That rift healed when Maurice and Maria married at eighteen.
Maria reassembled one of the rifles as she spoke to her husband.
“My brother isn’t the reason you’re going to Italy, is he?”
“No, Bruno and I are to have no direct contact, remember? Besides, I’m not going to be in Geno
a. I’m going to Rome to speak to my pet cop.”
“I don’t like it when you deal with that coward.”
“Why?”
“You can’t trust a coward.”
“I can, because that coward knows that to cross me would mean death.”
“You won’t be taking Antonio along, will you?”
“Of course not, woman, but the boy needs to see more of city life; he’s nearly a man now.”
“Your son or not, he’s still a boy, Maurice.”
Scallato said nothing to that, but maturing Antonio was a part of why they were taking the trip.
Maria left her stool and walked over to take Scallato in her arms.
“This man, Tanner, he still must be dealt with, yes?”
“Yes, and he has a woman with him that I intend to kill as well.”
“A woman?”
“An American woman, likely a lover of Tanner’s. I’m hoping that my pet cop will give me more details about her.”
“Does that mean you’ll be leaving soon to take care of Tanner and the woman?”
“There’s no rush. Tanner can’t find me here.”
“Are you certain? The man seems to be capable of surprising you.”
“He was lucky, Maria.”
“And what if he’s lucky again, hmm?”
Scallato sighed as he saw her point.
“I’ll deal with Tanner soon.”
Maria kissed her husband.
“No one is better than you, Maurice. Put Tanner in his grave.”
Scallato smiled.
“I’ll make him suffer for worrying you.”
Maria laid her head on her husband’s chest.
“And torture his woman too. I hate American women. They all think they’re men.”
Scallato began unbuttoning Maria’s dress.
“Let’s see how much woman you are.”
By the time Maria left the shed, her hair was filled with sawdust and she wore a wide smile.
The four men guarding Malek Kalah dressed in uniforms of a sort: black turtleneck, black slacks and boots, with tan corduroy jackets.
Two of the men wore their hair in crew cuts, while a third had dark hair of normal length, and the fourth man had long blond locks. Tanner told Sara that they would learn as much about the bodyguards as they could before the hit took place. Tanner particularly wanted to know about the blond man.
“Why him?” Sara asked.
“He’ll be the easiest one to impersonate, and I may need to fool the others.”
Sara smiled as she understood Tanner’s meaning.
“It’s his hair, isn’t it? If you wore a blond wig, it would not only help to conceal your face, but is also distinctive.”
“That’s right, and if I dress the same way as they do, they won’t catch on for a few seconds.”
Sara looked through the file they had on the men. It was a thin file that they received from Jacques Durand.
“The blond man is your height, but he weighs nearly two-hundred pounds. You’ll have to pad your clothing. He’s also German.”
“I need to know what he sounds like in case I have to speak.”
Sara smiled.
“I can take care of that.”
On their third day of observing Kalah’s home, the blond man left the building.
He was a cigar smoker and there was a store just five blocks away, beside a bar. Kalah’s food, as well as the bodyguards’ food, was prepared by a chef who came to the building to cook three mornings a week. There was also a maid who visited once a week.
While the blond bodyguard walked, Sara drove past him in a rented van. She was waiting outside the bar as the bodyguard approached. Sara was dressed in a short black skirt and a blue leather jacket that matched her high heels. After looking the bodyguard over, she smiled at him, but then answered her ringing phone.
It was Tanner on the other line. He was perched atop a rooftop in a shooter’s blind. There was a low probability that the bodyguards were aware their boss, Malek Kalah, was the target of a new assassination plot, but Tanner wasn’t taking chances. If the blond bodyguard grew suspicious of Sara and attempted to harm her, Tanner would shoot the man dead.
“He’ll talk to you once he leaves the store,” Tanner said.
“If I’m his type, maybe he likes redheads.”
“He’ll talk to you. That smile you gave him guaranteed it.”
The blond bodyguard left the cigar store less than a minute later while holding a small bag that contained his purchase.
Sara began to wonder if she were enticing enough to gain the guard’s attention, when the man began walking back the way he’d come. However, after taking only a few steps, he looked over his shoulder to see if Sara was watching him. She was, and the German smiled and walked over to her. Sara answered his smile with one of her own, and as he stood before her, the blond man spoke to Sara in German.
“Du bist so schön, Fraulein.”
Sara spoke enough German to understand him. He had said, “You are so beautiful, Fraulein,” Still, she pretended ignorance and told him that she only spoke a little German.
He smiled and switched to a heavily accented English. His voice was deep, a vivid baritone.
“Ah, an American. I said that you are very pretty.”
“Thank you,” Sara said.
“What is your name?”
“I’m Diane,” Sara lied. “And what is your name?”
The bodyguard moved a little closer.
“I am Kurt, Diane, and I want to buy you a drink.”
Sara made a show of looking at her watch.
“My friend said she’ll be late picking me up, so why not?”
The handsome blond bodyguard bought Sara a glass of wine and she told him she was married. Kurt seemed unfazed by her marital status and poured on his considerable charm. As Diane, Sara claimed to be in Germany to visit an old high school classmate, but that her husband had to stay back in Chicago to work.
Kurt said her husband was a fool to let her out of his sight. He left the bar only after Sara mentioned that she was staying at a nearby hotel, but that she often stopped in the bar or stood out front to wait for her friend to pick her up. Kurt said that he hoped to run into her again.
Before leaving, Kurt asked a question.
“How long have you been married, Diane?”
“Three years.”
Kurt smirked.
“That is enough time to become bored with someone.”
Sara didn’t say she agreed, but she smiled.
After Kurt left, Sara shut off the recording device she wore.
Sara joined Tanner for dinner later that night at a restaurant inside their hotel. Tanner had been working with the recording Sara made of her conversation with the bodyguard, as he needed to be able to mimic the man if necessary.
“You’ll definitely need to wear padding, Tanner. Kurt is thicker in the chest and arms than you are. Also, Kurt’s hair is a bit curlier than it appears in the photo of him we have. I’ll need to find just the right wig.”
“Kurt? Just how friendly did you get over drinks?”
“Friendly enough, how is your impersonation coming along?”
Tanner leaned across the table and stared into Sara’s eyes. He then spoke to Sara in a perfect impersonation of Kurt’s deep and German-accented voice.
“You are so beautiful, Fraulein.”
Sara let out a small gasp of surprise.
“That’s perfect. You sound just like him.”
“And I meant every word of it,” Tanner said.
Sara stared back at him.
“You’re not the best-looking man I’ve ever seen, but you are so damn sexy.”
“Are you saying you’re ready to be more than friends?”
Sara broke eye contact, but she gave a small nod.
“I’d like that very much.”
“Not that I’m complaining, but you once hated me enough to kill me, why the drastic change of heart?”
Sara shrugged.
“I’ve come to know the real you, and I like what I see.”
Tanner reached over, took Sara’s hand, and caressed it in his own.
“Why don’t we go up to my room?”
“No.”
“Ah, I see your game now; you’re out to torture me.”
Sara laughed.
“I’m not, I promise, but I think we should wait until Scallato is dead, or we could have one very dangerous voyeur sneaking up on us.”
Tanner released her hand and leaned back.
“You’re right, and I’ve already underestimated the bastard once, but I want to continue this conversation when it’s safe to do so.”
Sara grinned.
“Absolutely.”
“So how else would you like to spend the evening?”
Sara grabbed a deck of cards out of her purse.
“I play a mean game of Blackjack.”
9
Walk Like A Man
Maurice Scallato smiled as he watched his son’s eyes glitter in surprise.
Antonio was standing in the doorway of an apartment and looking at the woman who had opened the door to greet them. Her name was Veronika. Veronika was Russian and a stunning redhead. She was also the mistress of Antonio’s father.
After Veronika invited the pair inside, Antonio was shocked to see his father kiss Veronika. Antonio’s stunned expression soon morphed into an angry look as his face reddened.
The boy rushed from the apartment, but Scallato reached his son before he could make it back onto the elevator.
“Why are you running away, Antonio?”
The boy’s anger was palpable.
“You’re cheating on my mother.”
Scallato looked back down the hall, where Veronika stood in the doorway.
“We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Veronika’s smile bordered on a laugh.
“I’ll be here, and tell him about his present. That should quiet him down.”
Scallato said nothing to that, He just ushered Antonio onto the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor.
[Tanner 16.0] To Kill a Killer Page 6