[Tanner 16.0] To Kill a Killer

by Remington Kane

  “Once we cut Nardo’s hair and shave off the beard, he might pass for Tanner at a distance,” Sara said. “But he’d have to suffer a head wound or severe facial injuries to make it work.”

  Durand nodded in agreement, then sent Tanner an inquiring look.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think Bruno and I will take a trip to that body farm tomorrow night.”

  Bruno had been reading, but his head shot up at Tanner’s words.

  “Me? I’m no body snatcher.”

  Sara took her gun out and pointed it at Bruno.

  “I can think of a fresher corpse to use. Do you know what I mean, Bruno?”

  Bruno tossed the newspaper atop the coffee table and slumped in his seat.

  “Tanner, where’d you find a woman this tough?”

  “We met while she was trying to kill me, and she damn near did it too.”

  Bruno tapped himself between the eyes with the fingers of his right hand clamped together, it was an Italian gesture that suggested the person they were talking with was insane. He looked over at Durand.

  “These Americans, they are crazy, no?”

  Durand smiled as he looked at Sara.

  “Crazy, but very beautiful.”

  Sara smiled back at him.

  “Aw, I’m so glad I didn’t kill you.”

  33

  It’s Time To Pay Up

  Nurse Ginevra Valli arrived for work at the nursing home and was surprised to see the home’s director, Salvatore Bianchi, already there.

  It was 6:56 a.m. and Ginevra had never seen Bianchi arrive for work earlier than ten. The man did not look well either. He was gaunt, had shadows under his eyes, and wore a wrinkled suit. There was a cast on the fingers of his right hand and Ginevra wondered if he’d caught them in a car door. She had done that as a teenager and knew the pain was agony.

  “Signore Bianchi, is something wrong?”

  Bianchi swallowed hard and Ginevra noticed that his good hand, the left one, was shaking. The hand was holding several envelopes. Ginevra grew fearful that she was about to be fired or shipped off to another of the businesses owned by the man’s family.

  “Ah, nurse, I’m told that Signore Rossi’s nephew has been spending much time with his uncle.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “I’m also told that you two are friendly.”

  “Yes sir, he is a nice man.”

  Bianchi made a strangled cry in his throat that was meant to be a laugh of derision. He stared at Ginevra.

  “You are serious? You think Signore Rossi’s nephew is a nice man?”

  “He treats me well. Have you had words with him?”

  Bianchi looked down at his mangled hand.

  “Yes, we have had words, but never mind that, here.”

  Bianchi thrust the small stack of envelopes at Ginevra. She sat the canvas bag on the floor that held her lunch, a book, and a new batch of medication for Carlo Scallato. With her hands free, Ginevra scanned through the envelopes and noted the names on them, one of which was her own. They were the names of all the people who kept the nursing home running.

  “What is this?”

  “Bonuses,” Bianchi said, and spit it out as if the word tasted like acid. “A year’s pay for each of you under your new salaries, which are double the old salaries.”

  Ginevra tore open the envelope with her name on it and gasped. The check was made out for more money than she’d ever had before, and to have her salary doubled as well. It was a miracle. Then, she saw the contract. It had only a few sentences and offered her a position with the nursing home for as long as she wanted it. It also stated that her salary would increase each year. All she had to do was sign at the bottom.

  Ginevra held up the check and the contract.

  “Why? I mean, thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me, thank your friend.”

  “My friend? You mean Signore Rossi’s nephew?”

  “Yes, and the area in the back that was being used for… other things, will be reopened as a ward for the Alzheimer and dementia patients. They’ll each have their own room.”

  Ginevra’s smile lit up the lobby and she laughed aloud. The smile faded when she saw the angry look on Bianchi’s face.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I was just happy.”

  Bianchi’s expression changed in an instant, to one of fear.

  “Oh, I’m not mad at you, nurse, no, and you’ll tell your friend that you and I get along, right?”

  “Yes sir, I think we’ll be getting along just fine from now on.”

  “I won’t be running things here anymore. The former director has agreed to return. Your friend said that he didn’t care what I did but that I’d better do it somewhere else.”

  Ginevra avoided cheering by biting on her bottom lip, then sent Bianchi a nod.

  “You’ll be missed, sir,” she said, but couldn’t quite pull it off, as a giggle left her lips.

  Bianchi spent the morning dismantling his office and packing away his Chinese artwork and other belongings. When he had everything sitting in the hallway ready to be picked up by a parcel service, he walked toward the rear of the nursing home.

  There was no security guarding the entrance to what had been a very profitable whorehouse. Bruno had given the order to end it shortly before Tanner kidnapped Bruno. Bianchi wondered whether Bruno was still alive, or even in one piece.

  Bianchi left the nursing home while cursing Tanner under his breath, but then saw something that made him smile.

  It was his bodyguards. They were back, if looking a bit worse for wear since they both had bruised faces. But perhaps Bruno Allende had bested that bastard Tanner after all, and things could return to normal.

  Bianchi walked toward the two behemoths while grinning like a fool. When they came even with him, each man grabbed an arm.

  “What are you doing? Let go of me or I’ll tell Bruno about this.”

  “Bruno’s done,” the taller man said, the one with the bandaged thumb. “And we don’t work for you anymore.”

  They practically dragged Bianchi over to a limo as he protested and asked what was going on. There were two vehicles parked at the side of the building. One was a van, while the other was the limo. The limo looked new.

  The man inside the limo didn’t appear to be new in the least, he looked like he should be a patient of the nursing home. However, sitting beside him was a young woman who was not only young, but very beautiful, and… somewhat familiar, although Bianchi couldn’t come up with a name.

  Bianchi was seated across from the odd pairing of young and old while sandwiched between the two behemoths. He’d been ordering the two thugs around only a few days ago. He had a feeling they were now taking orders from the old man.

  “Signore Bianchi, I am Emilio Degussa. I believe you owe me quite a bit of money.”

  “Degussa? Oh, no, no, that was all Bruno Allende’s idea. He forced me to bring hookers here and sell drugs. He threatened to kill me if I didn’t cooperate. I would never have done so otherwise.”

  “The hookers were all Bruno’s idea?”

  “Yes sir, and may I say I was disgusted by the vile creatures. I don’t know how… any… man… could ever…” Bianchi stared at Rosalia as he finally remembered not only her name, but where he knew her from.

  “What’s wrong, Salvatore?” Rosalia said. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Rosalia? It, it, it is good to see you, and my, don’t you look all grown, I mean… oh God.”

  Rosalia spoke to Emilio.

  “Salvatore here raped me when I was twelve, after my mother decided that renting me out to men was easier than working. I think he was the fourth man to rape me, maybe the fifth. After the first two my mind went numb. Salvatore became a regular.”

  Emilio Degussa took Rosalia’s hand and gave it a squeeze of comfort. While doing so, his face reddened noticeably. There was silence in the limo for nearly a minute, if, you didn’t count the rapid breathing th
at Bianchi was making through his open mouth.

  “Signore Bianchi, I have good news for you,” Emilio said. “You no longer have to pay me a single euro.”

  Bianchi tried to speak, but it came out as a gargled cry.

  “You do not have to pay me, because you will not be alive long enough to do so.”

  Emilio nodded at the two behemoths flanking Bianchi. One of them clamped a hand over Bianchi’s face. The huge hand covered Bianchi’s nose and mouth, therefore cutting off his air supply. The last thing Bianchi ever saw were the moist eyes of Rosalia. They were no longer the eyes of the child he’d raped, and they held no pity for him.

  Bianchi’s struggles were useless as the two men held him and blocked his feet from kicking. After it was obvious that Bianchi had passed out, Emilio asked Rosalia a question.

  “Should he never wake up, or would you like his death to be more painful?”

  “Just kill him,” Rosalia whispered.

  The big man whose hand was clamped over Bianchi’s face complied and Bianchi deflated minutes later, like a balloon that had suffered a puncture.

  “Get him out of here before he soils himself,” Emilio said.

  The body was removed from the limo and dragged over to the side door on the van. It was kept upright enough so as not to draw attention, had anyone been around to notice.

  Rosalia grabbed a tissue and wiped at her eyes.

  “I could have lived without ever seeing him again.”

  “You will now,” Emilio said.

  Rosalia leaned against him and Emilio told the driver to take them home.

  34

  Pet Cop Gets A New Leash

  Sabella Barbieri and Maurice Scallato stood together inside an old shed and stared out a dirty window at the surrounding landscape. They were on the outskirts of Rome near the convergence of three roadways, where a rail yard kept supplies and piles of broken equipment.

  The rail yard itself was on the left with a fourth roadway beyond that, allowing several ways to exit the area.

  It was just after seven a.m. and they had been scrutinizing the field and its surrounding area for hours. The sun was battling its way past dissipating clouds on the horizon as sunrise neared, and Sabella couldn’t wait to feel its rays. She was freezing. She had taken Scallato to a site in the city just before midnight to explore the area and make plans for the ambush of Tanner.

  She had the building all picked out and Scallato had been there before. He’d made a hit on a Mexican cartel member when the man had been vacationing in Rome. That was only two years earlier and nothing in the building had changed.

  She assumed that they would be there an hour at the most, and then return in the morning to implement whatever traps or routes of escape Scallato might come up with. That was why she was wearing only a sweater over her blouse, and why she had brought no snacks with her.

  But no, Scallato spent the early part of the night moving from one position to another around the building. Most of that time he just listened for sounds of movement as he watched the area through a pair of night-vision goggles.

  Sabella was angry. She had helped Scallato since the day he spared her life and yet he still didn’t trust her. She assured him that there was no way for Tanner to know where they were, but he ignored her. His own brother-in-law, Bruno Allende, was in on the ambush of Tanner, and Bruno had every reason to want Tanner dead. Tanner had threatened to kill Bruno and would do so if Scallato didn’t kill Tanner first.

  Sabella had pointed that out to Scallato, but he ignored her and kept watch. The man trusted no one, was as paranoid as they came, and must be part robot. They had been out in the cold night air for nearly five hours at that point and Scallato hadn’t drank or eaten anything, nor had he urinated.

  She was so grateful that she had grabbed a coffee on the way to meet Scallato, or else she would have also been without any liquid. But, of course, the coffee was long gone. She had swallowed down the cold dregs of it around three-thirty a.m. after returning to her car to follow Scallato to the railway yard, and now her mouth was dry.

  On the way to the rail yard, they had passed an all-night eatery that catered to the crews working overnight in the train station. The aroma of the food and coffee wafting in the air was heaven as she drove by, and when the wind blew just right, she could still smell it.

  Sabella was thirsty, hungry, cold, tired, had a headache, and her feet hurt from standing around most of the night. When Scallato removed the night-vision goggles, Sabella assumed that they were done doing recon on the area. She figured now that it was morning, they would at least visit the little café down the block and have something to eat. Once fed and warmed, with a fresh coffee in her hand, Sabella would be ready to continue.

  That’s why, when Scallato casually made the comment that they would give it another hour before exploring the other side of the rail yard, Sabella forgot who she was talking to and exploded at him.

  “For fuck’s sake, Maurice. If Tanner was nearby don’t you think he would have shot at us by now? I want to go get something to eat. I’m cold, tired, and I’m thirsty.”

  Scallato didn’t react until she had stopped talking. When Sabella had finished, he turned his head and stared at her. She had seen that look once before. It had been early in their “partnership.”

  On that occasion, Sabella had attempted to set a time limit on how long she had to be an informant for the hit man. She had been fearful of being exposed when she had risked her career to get a look at classified files. The thought of spending her life behind bars had emboldened her then to press for an end date to her servitude. She had learned the hard way that there was no time limit and that she was to do as she was told or die.

  The broken arm she suffered due to Scallato’s anger was blamed on clumsiness while going down a staircase.

  As she gazed into Scallato’s cold eyes, Sabella wondered what part of her body was about to be broken this time. She shrank back in the expectation of pain.

  “Who are you?” Scallato asked, and the calmness in his voice was as unnerving as if he’d screamed the question.

  “I am… Sabella?”

  “No. You are my pet cop, my dog. When I call, you come, when I say sit, you sit, and when I say stay, you stay. Get down on your knees.”

  Sabella blinked in surprise as she wondered what Scallato had in mind. During their years together, he had never demanded sex, although, early on, she feared that he would rape her.

  She lowered herself onto her knees, slowly, and the frigid soil of the field accentuated the cold, making her shiver. As she settled before him, Sabella realized her face was only inches from Scallato’s crotch.

  “Now get on your hands.”

  Relief of a sort swept over Sabella. At least he wasn’t going to unzip and demand that she… do that to him. When she was down on her hands and knees, Scallato repeated his question.

  “Who are you?”

  Sabella fought back tears spawned by feelings of degradation and disgrace.

  “I… I am your dog.”

  “Yes, you are. Now rise before you attract the attention of one of the day workers arriving.”

  Sabella rose and had to wipe away a tear, then another one, before gaining control. She said not another word over the next three hours unless Scallato first asked her a question.

  She fantasized about killing Scallato as she did every so often, but that’s all it was, a fantasy. Even if she somehow killed him, Scallato had told her that Bruno had orders to kill her. If she failed in the attempt, she would die, and Scallato had promised her that her sisters and brother would die as well.

  Not for the first time, Sabella Barbieri wished that she had let Scallato kill her in that alley nineteen years ago. Life would have been short, but she would have died a hero and left behind a legacy of service.

  Scallato was correct. She was a dog, one covered in fleas and filthy with mange. She had spent nearly twenty years stroking the man’s considerable ego. Telling him
how great he was, agreeing with every word he said, doing anything he told her to do. Basically, she had eaten shit and smiled while she did so.

  After returning to her hotel, Sabella stopped in the coffee shop and devoured a large breakfast while downing three cups of coffee. Once in her room, she soaked in a hot bath while playing with a gun.

  The game was called, Should I, or shouldn’t I? It was played by sticking a loaded weapon in your mouth and waiting to see if you had enough guts to pull the trigger. Sabella had played it occasionally over the years, and, as always, she lost, as the gun was pulled from her mouth unfired.

  Sabella Barbieri climbed from the tub, dried off, and got into bed. A few strands of her hair had come loose from the bun she had tied her long locks into. They smelled faintly of the perfumed water she had bathed in; they also made her pillow wet.

  She didn’t bother getting up to dry her hair or change the pillowcase. She often dozed off on a pillow damp from tears. It was how dogs went to sleep.

  35

  Overkill Means They’re Dead, Right?

  Bruno received the location of the ambush at six p.m., which meant that Tanner would have little time to prepare.

  As a precaution, they wouldn’t fly directly into Leonardo da Vinci airport, but would land at a nearby airfield and drive into the city from there. Once they reached Rome, they would return the rental and use two vehicles that Durand had arranged for them. One of the vehicles would be a van that would take Tanner within walking distance of where he and Bruno were to stage their meeting.

  To Bruno’s relief, Durand had his people handle the acquiring of the corpse they would need. It would be loaded inside a crate that was in the van and resembled a wooden casket.

  As they stood by the van, Tanner and Sara kissed goodbye, as Durand and Bruno pretended not to look.