[Tanner 16.0] To Kill a Killer

by Remington Kane

  “I fought it too, and I was jealous of her. When she left you, I could no longer tell myself that I wasn’t feeling what I was feeling.”

  “I caught the vibe, but I thought I was imagining it.”

  Sara moved the cover aside.

  “Get in here.”

  Tanner stood, dropped the towel, and climbed into bed. Moments later, they were making love again.

  In Sicily, Maurice Scallato entered his workshop and slid aside a section of wall to reveal a hidden space. On a shelf, inside a small backpack, was what some would call a bug-out bag. The backpack contained a loaded gun, a box of spare ammo, a money clip with cash, a fake ID, a stun grenade, food, water, a compass, and a cell phone. This was his emergency equipment, and even his wife, Maria, didn’t know about it.

  After checking to see that nothing was disturbed, Scallato slid the section of wall back in place. He then grabbed a cheap cell phone from a drawer that contained several. Each phone would be used once and then destroyed.

  He left the workshop and walked up the hill behind it, to get better cell reception. The signal was weak, but the other party answered after nine rings.

  “Hello?”

  The voice sounded sleepy, but as always, sexy, it was the voice of his mistress, Veronika.

  “It’s me. Have you left Rome yet?”

  “No.”

  “Good, I will be there soon.”

  “Are you bringing your son again? If so, I’ll arrange another girl for him.”

  Scallato didn’t answer. After a long silence, Veronika spoke.

  “Maurice, is everything all right?”

  “I need to see you. There is something I want to ask you and it is best if I do so in person.”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “It is serious, but nothing bad. I just have an offer to make you.”

  Scallato could hear her smile through the phone.

  “You know I’ll never say no to you about anything.”

  “Yes, Veronika, and you are special to me.”

  “I love you, Maurice, you know that.”

  “I do.”

  “What about Antonio? Will he be coming?”

  “No.”

  “Good, I want you all to myself.”

  “You’ll have me soon, goodbye Veronika.”

  Scallato ended the call and sent a text off to his pet cop. The text informed his contact that Scallato would not be going to Genoa after all. As inviting an opportunity as the nursing home was, Scallato was wise enough not to face-off against Tanner when his mind was in turmoil over Antonio’s failure.

  With the text sent, Scallato removed the phone’s SIM card, its Subscriber Identity Module. After breaking it in half, he set the SIM card on fire by using a lighter, then tossed the phone far into the trees.

  As he walked down to his workshop, he saw Maria walking toward him. His wife had been in tears the night before, when she had seen her son’s broken toes and wounded spirit. After Antonio told her what had happened, Maria had been furious with Maurice for endangering their son.

  Scallato had ended the conversation by telling his wife to remember her place. Maria had bitten her tongue after seeing six-year-old Anna standing at the foot of the stairs and rubbing her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Anna had said. She was young, but even she sensed the tension in the room.

  After putting Anna back to bed, Maria had Antonio keep the foot with the broken toes raised on a pillow and applied ice. Antonio’s big toe had been crooked, but Maria straightened it and gave Antonio pain medication. Antonio also had a black eye from being hit with the TV remote that Romy Martello had thrown at him.

  Maria had been raised in a family of criminals and was the wife of a world-class assassin. She knew a thing or two about healing and first-aid. Once, she had even removed a bullet from her husband’s back with nothing more than a pair of tweezers and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

  Scallato had left the house after dropping Antonio there. He then spent the night searching the Martello brother’s villa. He came away with over fifty-thousand euros, some gold, and a ledger that showed a record of protection payments.

  He’d keep the money, but he would pass the record book over to the people his brother-in-law Bruno would be sending. Someone had to shear the sheep and it might as well be kept in the family.

  Maria looked calmer than she’d been the night before, but still angry. Scallato didn’t care about her anger. To him, wife or not, she was just a woman, and a man didn’t run his life by catering to the emotional whims of women.

  “Antonio says he feels better, but please go talk to him, Maurice.”

  “What would you like me to say to him, Maria?”

  “For one thing you could tell him that you love him.”

  “Men don’t say such things to other men.”

  “He’s not a man, damn it! He’s our little boy and you tried to rush him into manhood too soon. Give him another year, maybe even two, and then let him have another chance to prove himself.”

  “He had his chance and he failed. It was disgraceful.”

  “He’s still your only son, Maurice, and he will be the one to carry the Scallato name forward.”

  Scallato took Maria in his arms.

  “We should have another child. With luck, it will be a boy.”

  Maria freed herself from his arms.

  “You’re just giving up on Antonio, is that it? Maurice, if you do that, you’ll destroy him. That boy lives to make you proud.”

  “He’s weak, Maria. It happens. Remember Dario, my younger brother? He was gutless too. But I’m still young enough to start over and train another son.”

  Maria shook her head.

  “I can’t have any more children, Maurice. The doctor said it would be very dangerous for me. Don’t you recall how difficult Anna’s delivery was?”

  Scallato hung his head.

  “I’d forgotten the doctor’s warning.”

  “You still have Antonio.”

  “Yes,” Scallato said.

  “Please go talk to him, Maurice. He’s sick at heart thinking you don’t love him anymore.”

  “I need to work out, then sleep. I’ll talk to the boy later.”

  Maria started to protest, but then simply nodded.

  “Work out and rest, but eat first.”

  “I’m not hungry. Also, I will be flying back to Italy soon.”

  “To see your pet cop again?”

  “Yes,” Scallato said, although he was going there to see his lover, Veronika.

  Maybe his wife couldn’t give him more sons, but he knew a woman who could.

  Scallato walked into his home and passed Antonio’s room without giving him a thought. After the cowardice and incompetence he displayed the night before, Antonio was dead to him.

  Scallato worked out in his home gym, showered, then afterwards, he lay down to sleep. His dreams were filled with visions of sons yet unborn.

  19

  Carlo Scallato

  Tanner and Sara arrived in Genoa, Italy, in the late afternoon.

  After checking into their hotel, they made their way to the nursing home where Scallato’s father was living. An exhaustive examination of the area followed, until Tanner deemed it safe to enter the facility, but told Sara to keep her eyes open and to stay ready.

  They were both armed. Although, lately, he infrequently took European contracts, Tanner still had a network in place that could provide him with arms, shelter, phony ID’s, and medical care. The price of keeping such resources available was not cheap, and Tanner was pleased to be getting some benefit from them.

  Carlo Scallato was in the nursing home under the name of Mario Rossi. Tanner’s ID identified him as Anthony Rossi, while Sara was his wife, Lorraine Rossi. The Rossi’s were there visiting from America to see their Uncle Mario.

  The young woman at the reception desk looked like a druggie and wore a skimpy outfit that revealed too much skin, given her surroundings. She s
poke Italian, but it was of a dialect that Tanner had trouble understanding. When a nurse saw the difficulty he was having communicating, she stepped in to lend assistance.

  The nurse’s name was Ginevra Valli. She was in her early-forties and had an olive complexion along with long dark hair she kept tied up in a bun. As she led Tanner and Sara through the halls, she spoke over her shoulder, and she spoke in English.

  “That girl at the desk is new. I am trying to get her replaced.”

  “Who hired her?” Tanner asked.

  Ginevra sighed.

  “Our director, he claims she’s his niece. She’s the eighth niece he’s had working here. One of them was black, while another was Asian. All of them were young and not very bright.”

  “It sounds like you might need a new director,” Sara said.

  “That will not happen. He is very rich. His family owns the nursing home and gave it to him as a plaything.”

  Ginevra stopped walking and sent them an apologetic smile.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t discuss such things with you. It’s just that I get frustrated sometimes. This was once a very nice facility.”

  “And you’re saying that’s no longer the case?” Tanner asked.

  Ginevra bit her bottom lip and Tanner could tell that she was annoyed at herself for talking too much.

  “I’ll take you to see your uncle.”

  “Fine,” Tanner said.

  They passed several elderly patients who seemed to be just wandering the halls, while at a tall counter that resembled a nurses’ station, several young women were gathered. Beyond them, there was a pair of double doors with an armed guard standing nearby.

  The women, who looked more like hookers than nurses, were drinking from matching mugs that had the facility’s logo on them. One of them, a young woman wearing gold hoop earrings and a too-tight top, stopped talking when she spotted Tanner. After her eyes roamed over him, she sent Tanner a smile. When the woman noticed that Sara was glaring at her, she looked away, as her friends broke out in laughter.

  Ginevra escorted them to a large room where a pair of TV’s blared away with what looked like an Italian soap opera. There were seven people in the room, all were men. They were in wheelchairs and seemed to be lost in their own worlds. Most displayed some form of compulsive behavior, like wringing their hands or tapping their knee. Tanner spotted Carlo Scallato and knew that he was looking at the legendary assassin, although he appeared to be much older than the picture that Durand had supplied. However, even in the grip of dementia and old age, Carlo Scallato stood out as someone special.

  Tanner walked over, leaned down, and stared into the elder Scallato’s eyes. The old man’s eyes looked back at him with confusion and fear showing. That lasted only a second, then the eyes lost focus and wandered away.

  “What’s wrong with my uncle? He looks…odd. Is he on some sort of strong sedative?”

  “He is on medication, yes, but everyone in this room suffers from dementia, Signore Rossi. I thought you knew.”

  “Yes, I did, but I was under the impression that he could still communicate.”

  “He’ll speak, but it usually makes little sense. I’m sorry.”

  “Who comes to visit him?”

  “You and your wife are the first ones, Signore. I had thought that he was alone in the world.”

  Through a doorway, Sara saw a row of beds lined up. She pointed at them.

  “Does our uncle sleep in there?”

  “Yes,” Ginevra said, but she wouldn’t meet Sara’s eyes.

  “I was told that my uncle had a private room,” Tanner said.

  Ginevra looked down at the floor.

  “You’ll have to speak to the director about that.”

  “What’s the man’s name?”

  “Signore Bianchi.”

  “Take me to him, Ginevra.”

  Ginevra gazed at Tanner and the words she was about to speak died in her throat. Tanner was angry, and it showed.

  He didn’t know Carlo Scallato, but Tanner knew that the man had been a legendary assassin. A fellow assassin deserved better than to be left to rot in a ward, and he suspected that the nursing home’s director was corrupt and taking advantage of Carlo.

  Tanner would put an end to that and get Scallato the care he needed. Once that was done, he would track down the man’s son and kill him.

  In Tanner’s mind, the two things were exclusive. And while the sins of the father might be visited upon the son, Tanner didn’t see any reason why that should work in reverse.

  Ginevra led them to a corridor where the director’s office was located. Signore Bianchi wasn’t in, but he was expected at any moment. There were a pair of padded chairs across from the office door where they could wait for him, and Tanner and Sara settled atop the chairs’ green vinyl covering.

  Tanner was also aware that Jacques Durand had steered them toward what he must have known would be a dead end. That also angered him.

  “Let me deal with Durand,” Sara said.

  “Why?”

  “I’m going to tell him that you’re upset with him but that I know he had no way of knowing Carlo Scallato would be a useless lead. If Jacques believes I still trust him, he’ll be easier to fool or trap later.”

  “It makes sense, and the man has a thing for you. He’ll believe everything you say.”

  Sara took out her phone to play a game on it while they waited, but she quickly grew bored with it, then fidgeted in her seat.

  Tanner had been giving her sideways glances as he recalled their night together. Rather than cooling his desire for Sara, having been with her, the thought of having her again was becoming distracting.

  “Can we go right back to our suite after we talk to Bianchi?” Sara asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.”

  “Why is that good?”

  “Because, Mr. Tanner, all I can think about is getting you back into bed.”

  Tanner grinned.

  “Who’d of guessed we’d be so compatible?”

  20

  What’s With All The Hotties?

  The nursing home director, Salvatore Bianchi, arrived back at the facility after having taken a three-hour lunch break. Bianchi was a handsome man in an expensive wool suit who was aging gracefully. He was tall and appeared to be in good shape.

  Bianchi was in the company of a young woman who hadn’t yet seen her twentieth birthday, and after telling Tanner and Sara that he would be right with them, he kissed the girl goodbye and watched her ass as she walked away.

  Bianchi’s eyes then traveled over Sara with a lecherous gaze.

  Tanner snapped his fingers to gain Bianchi’s attention. Bianchi looked insulted by the gesture and asked Tanner who he was. Once he knew he was there to inquire about a patient who was a relative, he opened the office, then excused himself and took out his phone.

  The office was large for its type and richly decorated. The motif was Chinese, and Tanner noted that there were several paintings from a well-known Cantonese artist.

  After ending the call, Bianchi settled behind his desk and asked Tanner and Sara to take the two seats in front of it.

  “You two are Americans?”

  “Yes,” Tanner said.

  “You speak Italian well, which is good, my English is atrocious.”

  “What about your Chinese?”

  Bianchi lit up with surprise and spoke to Tanner in Cantonese by asking him if he understood what he was saying. Tanner answered him in Cantonese and Bianchi was all smiles.

  “It’s wonderful to run into someone that can speak Chinese. I lived there for eight years when I was younger.”

  Tanner had been wondering who Bianchi had called before sitting behind his desk. The answer came when a pair of orderlies entered the room. The scrubs they wore were meant to be baggy and easy to move in, but they appeared a size too small. The men were both bodybuilder types and had full beards. They glared at Tanner menacingly before looking Sara over.<
br />
  “Where were you?” Bianchi asked the men.

  “We were parking the car, Boss,” the one on the left said, he was an inch taller than the other man, but looked no brighter.

  “I want one of you with me at all times from now on.”

  “Yes sir,” both men said.

  Bianchi gestured toward the two men.

  “I’ve been threatened by irate family members in the past. Since then I find it best to have… witnesses present.”

  “You mean bodyguards,” Tanner said.

  Bianchi cleared his throat, then asked a question.

  “How can I help you?”

  “My uncle Mario is in a ward. I understood that he was paying for a private room.”

  Bianchi shook his head.

  “You’re mistaken. Signore Rossi is here on what we call our budget plan. I can show you the admittance paperwork.”

  “Do that,” Tanner said.

  Bianchi produced the form within a few minutes, and Tanner saw that Carlo Scallato had been assigned the lower-tier option. He also saw that a law firm was listed as the contact number for next of kin.

  Tanner’s respect for Maurice Scallato dipped in regard to the man as a person. What son doesn’t see that his father gets the best of care? And Scallato had to be worth millions. When he looked over at Sara, he saw that she was thinking the same thing.

  “I want him placed in a private room and I want to keep it just between us. My other relatives don’t need to know about the change or that I’m paying for it.”

  Bianchi was shaking his head no before Tanner had even finished speaking.

  “There’s nothing available, but I assure you that your uncle is getting the best of care.”

  “My uncle is wasting away here until he dies. I just want him to be more comfortable while he does that.”

  “I can’t help you, and you realize that you have no legal right to request anything, yes?”

  Tanner stared at Bianchi, then turned his head to look at the two huge orderlies. The one on the right flexed while his arms were crossed over his massive chest.

  After standing, Tanner offered Sara his hand.