[Tanner 16.0] To Kill a Killer

by Remington Kane

  “What’s next? Try again tomorrow and hope that they send out the blond guard to chase you off?”

  Tanner answered her as he removed his homeless costume.

  “I think I’ll try a different tact, that is, if you’re willing to help me.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Lure Kurt inside that bar again, but this time keep him there longer.”

  “I can do that, but what will you be doing?”

  “I’ll be killing his friends along with Malek Kalah.”

  11

  Rite Of Passage

  Scallato and his son Antonio returned from Italy to the relief of Maria.

  Maria held her son out at arm’s length and studied his face.

  “You look different, Antonio, more mature somehow. Did you enjoy being in the city?”

  “Very much, Matri, and Patri showed me around.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, but I’m happier to have you both home.”

  Scallato’s daughter, Anna, was at school, and so only the three of them sat down at the kitchen table, where they sipped on wine. The kitchen was large and had new appliances and countertops. There was also a slanted skylight above the breakfast nook. Maria was an excellent cook who loved to bake, and she spent much of her time in the well-lit room.

  If anyone wondered how a carpenter had managed to afford one of the nicest houses in town, along with the surrounding acreage, Scallato made a vague mention about an inheritance. The story was never questioned, and on the surface, the family appeared to live simply.

  “Antonio and I will be going into town, Maria.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to get another look at the Martello brothers and check to see if a certain boat has docked. That boat will be smuggling in a supply of ammunition for me.”

  “Bring me back some things from the market, Antonio.”

  “No, Maria, Antonio’s days of running errands are over. It’s time we started treating him as a man.”

  Maria caressed Antonio’s cheek.

  “But he’s still so young, Maurice.”

  “Nonsense, I was assisting my father with contract kills at his age.”

  Maria stared at her husband while looking as if she wished to protest his decision to bring Antonio deeper into his world. The moment passed, and she nodded in resignation.

  “My brother Bruno was also working with our father at that same age. Yes, it’s time Antonio grew up.”

  “His will be an exceptional life and the name Scallato will continue to be feared and respected.”

  “Is that something those Martello brothers will learn soon?” Maria asked.

  Scallato smiled.

  “You might as well send your brother a letter telling him to get his people here. The Martello brothers won’t be a problem much longer.”

  “I’ll demand a percentage of the protection money Bruno will get from the merchants,” Maria said. “If you’re going to take out the trash for him, we might as well profit by it.”

  Scallato tapped the side of his head.

  “Good thinking. Bruno and his people get the town and we make more money. It works out for everybody.”

  Antonio pointed out something.

  “It doesn’t really work out for everyone. The merchants will still be paying for protection, Patri, even if Uncle Bruno charges them less than the Martello brothers.”

  Scallato locked eyes with his son.

  “The merchants are the sheep we wolves feed on. If they had guts they wouldn’t give up a cent. Never feel sorry for the sheep, Antonio; they reap the reward of their cowardice.”

  Scallato stood and beckoned for Antonio to do the same.

  “Let’s go find the Martello brothers. I want to see where they live.”

  “I heard in the market that they took over old man Alleganti’s crumbling villa,” Maria said.

  “That’s good. That villa has seen better days, but it is surrounded by stone walls that will keep anyone from seeing what happens there.”

  “I’ve also heard that there are dogs on the property, so be careful.”

  Scallato smiled at his wife.

  “The dogs will be the only things left alive after I’ve visited that villa.”

  A short time later, Scallato and Antonio were walking about the town.

  Antonio asked when he could see Yana again and was shocked by his father’s answer.

  “You may never see her again, but don’t worry, there are a world of women out there. I’ll tell Veronika to arrange another escort for you.”

  “We’ll be going back to Rome soon?”

  “No, but I’ll be moving Veronika to a town nearby for a few months. I’ll tell her to have a friend ready for you.”

  Antonio hesitated, but said the words that were on his mind.

  “Veronika is so beautiful… maybe she could be my friend?”

  Scallato laughed.

  “You have good taste, but no, that one is mine, still, I’ll make sure that you have a redhead next time too, how’s that?”

  Antonio nodded enthusiastically and Scallato laughed again.

  “I see you like being a man.”

  The local priest, Father Rossetti, smiled as he greeted Scallato, whom he knew as Maurice Rizzo.

  “Maurice, it is good to see you, but when will I be seeing you in my church again?”

  “Soon, Padre, but I’ve just returned home a few days ago.”

  “Do the Americans pay that well, son?”

  “What do you mean?”

  The priest patted Antonio on the head.

  “This boy here is at an age when he needs his father around. Perhaps you can find work closer to home, eh?”

  Scallato felt his face redden, as the urge to beat the priest to a pulp had to be fought against. Who did the man think he was to involve himself in his life? As his anger faded, Scallato spoke with a phony smile on his lips.

  “You’re right, Padre, and I will be spending more time at home.”

  Father Rossetti’s hand left Antonio and patted Scallato’s shoulder. If he had patted Scallato on the head, Scallato would have slit the man’s throat, and his identity of Maurice Rizzo be dammed.

  “Good, good, Maurice, and don’t forget to come to church with Maria. There are also a few things that could use the blessing of your carpentry skills.”

  “Yes, Padre.”

  After the priest left, Antonio had a question.

  “Will God send us to hell for what we do, for killing people?”

  “If there is such a place as heaven, Antonio, we don’t belong there, and if hell exists, we will rule it. We are Scallato’s, son, and we have only two truths. We will survive no matter what comes our way, and we are the greatest assassins the world has ever known. Morals, rules and societal norms are for lesser men, for sheep like that priest. We are wolves, Antonio, ravening wolves.”

  Antonio repeated the phrase, “ravening wolves,” and liked the way it tasted on his lips. He then startled as the three Martello brothers came into view. To the eyes of the young teen, all three men looked formidable, even the short one, who was about his height.

  The other men in town scattered as the Martello brothers walked toward them and no one made eye contact, not even the priest, Father Rossetti. He had ducked inside a women’s clothing store as the men approached him.

  Scallato also avoided them, as he guided Antonio several meters to the left and behind a wall. The Martello brothers would be handled, but not in full sight of the other townspeople.

  After the three men passed by and disappeared into a tavern, Antonio looked up at his father.

  “You can kill all three of them by yourself?”

  “I could kill those three in my sleep, but I won’t be the man who murders them.”

  “Then who will get rid of them?”

  “You will, Antonio. You’ll take a shotgun and blast them to bits.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes son, that whore Yana
made you a man, but killing the Martello brothers will make you a Scallato.”

  Antonio swallowed hard as he stared at the tavern the Martellos had disappeared into, he then looked up at his father.

  “I can do it. I can kill them.”

  Scallato placed an arm across Antonio shoulders.

  “I know you can kill them. You are my son.”

  Antonio smiled at his father, but there was a nest of fear in the pit of his stomach.

  12

  The Fifth Man

  Sara checked her watch for the third time in ten minutes, then warded off the advances of yet another man. The bar she had shared a drink in with the bodyguard named Kurt was much busier than it had been on her previous visits.

  It was Unity Day in Germany, a celebration of Germany’s reunification, which took place in 1990.

  There were no fireworks, parades, or raucous crowds, but many had the day off and were gathering with friends at the bar. Sara was sitting alone at a small table in a corner, but she knew she would have to give it up when the place became more crowded. In the meantime, several men had sent her drinks which she had declined.

  She had also warded off two blatant attempts to pick her up, one of which was made by a rude drunk.

  “Are you alone?” the man had asked, as he weaved unsteadily on his feet.

  “I have a friend nearby,” Sara had said.

  “This friend a man?”

  “Yes.”

  The man stared at the table’s other chair.

  “I don’t see him.”

  “He’s on his way.”

  “You want to come back to my place, American chicky? I have some good weed.”

  “No thank you, my friend should be here soon.”

  The man whispered something in German, before stumbling out the door.

  Tanner was listening in to her conversations through a hidden microphone. When Sara called Tanner to ask him what the man had said, she grew angry.

  “He called you a dyke.”

  “That bastard. If a woman turns him down that means she’s gay? What a loser.”

  “I think our man may not show again, Sara.”

  “Let’s give it a little more time before we call it quits.”

  “Fine, and I’ll let you know if he shows.”

  Tanner called just ten minutes later, and Sara exited the bar just as the blond bodyguard was leaving the cigar store.

  Sara smiled at Kurt.

  “We meet again.”

  “So we do, and I see you’re leaving the bar. Does that mean I can’t buy you a drink?”

  “I would love another drink,” Sara said. They were the words she and Tanner agreed on earlier. That phrase meant it was all right for Tanner to attack Malek Kalah’s home.

  Assured that Sara would keep Kurt busy for a while, Tanner removed his earpiece and then disassembled his rifle. In less than two minutes, he was off the roof and inside the van. After putting on the blond wig that would make him look like Kurt, Tanner grabbed a bag off the front seat. The bag contained cigars and would help him create the illusion that he was Kurt coming back from the store.

  Tanner had observed the German and could duplicate his easy but purposeful gait, while the padding in the jacket gave him the added bulk he needed. Tendrils of the blond wig swirled in the soft breeze and further obscured Tanner’s face. The elastic band that held the wig to his head was tight, too tight really, but a little discomfort was better than risking the wig blowing away in a gust of wind.

  As he came into range of the cameras outside the building, Tanner lit one of the cigars. Its smoke moved about him and supplied further camouflage. Once at the door, Tanner readied himself while also growing relaxed.

  The next few seconds could spell success or failure. He had no way to know whether the guards used code words while coming and going, and if such were the case. He would have to abort his attempt at killing Kalah and come up with yet another plan.

  A buzzer sounded as Tanner neared the door. He believed he had fooled whoever was watching the camera, but as he opened the door, he saw that he was walking into a trap. With the door halfway open, Tanner spotted one of the guards with his back turned to him.

  “Did you have a good walk, Kurt?” the man said in German.

  Tanner barely registered the words, because his eyes had been drawn to the glass exterior of a grandfather clock. There was a reflection in the glass that displayed the area behind the door he had just opened. The other two bodyguards were there with silenced guns, just waiting for him to step through the threshold.

  Tanner immediately understood that both he and Sara had walked into traps, and he wondered if she were still alive.

  After Kurt offered to buy her another drink, Sara was surprised when he suggested they try a bar he knew that was just around the corner.

  Sara smiled her agreement even as she went on alert. Tanner was nothing if not thorough, and he had insisted that they both become familiar with the layout of streets and alleyways within a two-mile circumference of Kalah’s apartment. And while she wouldn’t swear to it, Sara was certain there were no other bars or restaurants in the direction that Kurt was walking. The area was mostly factories that were closed due to the national holiday and there were no other pedestrians about.

  As a distraction, Kurt began telling her a story from when he was a boy growing up in Düsseldorf. Sara pretended to listen as she folded her arms and gripped the area on her right forearm. Tanner had equipped her with a hidden blade. It was strapped to the inner part of her forearm, beneath the sleeves of her blouse and jacket. Sara released the clip that held it in place, if she straightened her arm the stainless-steel knife would fall into her palm.

  Sara’s mind raced. Was Kurt trying to get her somewhere private or was he aware that she was part of a plan to kill Kalah? If he was aware that a hit was on, then that meant that Tanner was in grave danger.

  “Kurt, where are we going?”

  “It’s just a little farther, Diane. That is your name, isn’t it?”

  Sara stopped walking, then felt two hands clamp onto her shoulders. After swiveling her head, she saw that the hands belonged to the man who had been in the bar. The one who had called her a dyke. Sara had thought he was drunk, but he was gazing at her now with a steady sober gaze.

  He was the fifth man. An unknown member of the bodyguards who must have stayed in the immediate area of their location to sniff out anything that didn’t seem right. Sara sitting at the bar for days at a time as she waited for Kurt’s return must have made it onto his radar. No wonder they were so good at keeping their clients safe. They had an unknown advantage.

  Kurt yanked her purse away, looked inside, and spotted Sara’s gun.

  “I have her weapon.”

  “She has a partner too,” The fifth man said. “Someone went walking back to the house dressed in our style and with a blond wig that made him resemble you. If I hadn’t called and warned the others, he might have fooled them long enough to do great harm.”

  Kurt’s lips formed into a smirk.

  “He’s a dead man whoever he is. Now, what shall we do with this—” Kurt stopped talking as he saw Sara make a quick motion with her right hand. As she brought the blade up aiming for Kurt’s throat, the bodyguard attempted to lean back out of harm’s way. Instead, Sara’s blade ripped open his left cheek and one nostril.

  The hands gripping her shoulders released her and Sara sent a kick behind her. That caught the fifth man in the knee and he staggered backwards even as he reached for a gun. Meanwhile, Sara had shoved her hand inside her purse to remove her weapon, but Kurt was gripping the purse too tight. She fired the gun off while it was still inside the purse, hitting Kurt in the chest, but he only grunted and kept struggling with her.

  The man she’d kicked was bringing up his gun. Sara tripped Kurt to place him in harm’s way just as the fifth man fired at her twice. One of the bullets struck Kurt in his already ruined face, just below his right eye, killing hi
m.

  Sara raised the hand that was still inside the purse and fired several hurried rounds at the fifth man. Sara’s shots hit him in the shoulder area and damaged his collarbone. His weapon fell from his hand.

  Their eyes met, and the fifth man pleaded with her for his life. He spoke the same frantic words, first in German, then in English.

  “Bitte töte mich nicht! Please don’t kill me!”

  Sara remembered what Tanner had said about the bodyguards. That they were like a family and if one were left alive he would come after them and seek revenge.

  “I don’t have a choice,” Sara said. She fired three rounds at his heart, then watched him die.

  Sara’s sunglasses and brown wig were sitting askew, and she had blood spattered on the back of her green jacket. The street had cleared when the shooting began, but in the distance, came the sound of a woman crying. Sara looked in that direction as she feared a wild shot had hit an innocent, but no, the woman was crying out of fear, not pain or grief. She probably thought the violence and gunfire were part of a terrorist attack.

  Relieved that no bystanders had been hurt, Sara’s FBI training kicked in and she forced herself to stay calm and think. Seven seconds later, she was pulling a set of keys out of the pocket of the dead man who had been in the bar. She reasoned that Kurt and the man must have been planning to take her somewhere, and she doubted that they would have done it on foot.

  As sirens wailed ever closer, Sara came across the vehicle that fit the keys. It was an old van much like the one she and Tanner had, and in its rear was a set of handcuffs and a roll of duct tape.

  Sara drove the van only eight blocks before abandoning it in an alleyway. Her wig, jacket, purse, and gun stayed inside the vehicle, which she had set on fire. After hailing a taxi two minutes later, she had it drop her off at a hotel. It was not the hotel she and Tanner were staying at, but she needed someplace to gather herself and think. It would also add another layer of protection against her being tracked down by the authorities.