Herman had been worth a million dollars at one time, at least on paper. He had been an early investor in an energy company whose shares had skyrocketed after a merger. They doubled only a few months later and Herman cashed out a mutual fund to buy more shares.
His broker had pointed out to him that the mutual fund was a safer bet than owning shares of a single stock, but Herman disagreed. His decision appeared to have been a wise move when his investment went up another twenty percent in a matter of weeks. At the time, Herman considered selling his small chain of retail stores and retiring early.
Had he sold the stores and cashed out his stock, Herman would have had close to two million dollars. He’d failed to take either option after business picked up and the stock rose another seven points. He had feared he would lose out on gaining more wealth.
When the story came out that the energy company Herman had his funds in had been involved in what could only be called blatant fraud, the stock price dropped fifty-eight percent overnight. To make matters worse, Herman had recently expanded his business by going into debt to open up an additional four locations.
Ten months later, Herman’s shares were worth less than a dollar each and headed toward zero. A few years after that, Herman was running a going out of business sale that netted him just enough profit to keep from declaring bankruptcy. At sixty-two he’d been forced to go to work for his brother-in-law selling used cars.
As bad as the loss of his business and wealth had been, they were far from the low point of Herman’s life. No, the worst moment of Herman’s life had been the day he’d learned his daughter, his angel, had been killed.
In 1979, Herman’s only child, Mary McCoy, had been eighteen and a freshman in college. While at an off-campus party she met a young and charismatic man named Damon Wheeler. Although not much older than Mary, Wheeler had his own church and a following. In truth, he was a budding cult leader and a drug dealer.
Mary fell hard for Damon Wheeler and was sucked in by his act as a modern-day prophet. She dropped out of school and joined Wheeler’s cult, while becoming his lover. She was one of several women Wheeler called his brides, while the male members of his congregation were drug dealers and thieves. Wheeler also had three men he referred to as his deacons.
The deacons were responsible for making the deals that supplied the lower level members of the congregation with product to sell. The three deacons were good at what they did. They were often rewarded for their efforts with extra cash, cars, and once, they each received a parcel of the compound’s land. Then, one day, Wheeler decided to give them Mary as a gift. Mary had grown discontented with Wheeler and had begun to see him for what he was.
When she asked to leave the compound, Wheeler gave her to his deacons. Mary was gang-raped, then had her throat slit and was left in a drainage ditch. The body wasn’t discovered for weeks.
The story behind Mary’s death came to light when another of Wheeler’s brides escaped the compound. As a precaution, she had written things down in a letter and mailed it to her mother. In the letter, she expressed her belief that she would be caught and dragged back to the compound. She went missing before she ever reached home. Unlike Mary, her body had never been recovered.
When Herman McCoy had learned about his daughter’s fate, he’d sank to the floor and cried for over an hour. Wheeler and his deacons told authorities Mary had left the compound months earlier and they had alibis for the presumed time period of her death.
Wheeler’s lawyer insisted the letter was a hoax or a lie and denied that his client had anything to do with either woman’s fate. The district attorney didn’t believe a word of it; he also had no proof otherwise. Mary’s body had been washed clean of any evidence while in the drainage ditch, and the other woman remained unaccounted for.
A week after Mary’s funeral, Herman contacted an old friend from high school named Tony Costa. Although the two men moved in different circles, Herman stopped in to say hello to Tony whenever he found himself near the man’s restaurant, and Mary had gone to school with Costa’s daughter.
Tony Costa also owned several bars and had been rumored to have mob ties, as had his father before him. It was through this friend that Herman first heard about an assassin named Tanner. That had been Tanner Five, although, unknown to Herman, Damon Wheeler had been killed by Tanner’s apprentice, a young man named Vince Ryker.
The price to hire Tanner had been high, but the result was worth it. Two days after handing his friend the fee, the “Reverend” Damon Wheeler was dead.
Herman was questioned by the police at home and played dumb. Once he proved he had an alibi for the time when Wheeler was murdered, the cops left him alone. Still, it had unnerved Herman to be questioned by the police, and so he gave up his plan to have the three deacons killed as well.
Without Wheeler, the cult dissolved amid infighting between the deacons.
A land developer bought up the compound and much of the surrounding land, minus the three parcels belonging to the deacons. However, nothing was ever built on the property. The developer went to prison on a charge of aggravated battery. The large tract, and other assets, was placed in a trust until the developer is released from prison.
The three deacons continued to live on the parcels gifted to them by Wheeler. Because their properties were miles apart, they hadn’t seen each other in years.
As for Herman, he sometimes indulged in a fantasy where he would confront the deacons and kill them one by one. He didn’t have the nerve or guts to actually do such a thing and he knew it. Although, he had no regrets about hiring someone to kill Wheeler.
Now that he was dying, Herman’s only desire was that he might see his daughter Mary again.
Herman McCoy sat on the worn-out porch of his rented home and waved goodbye to his wife Janet. Janet was off to do the weekly grocery shopping after having cut out coupons from the sales flyers. Herman hated the damn coupons. In the old days they never needed them.
A cup of coffee sat on a TV tray along with a newspaper. On the floor beside the chair was a portable oxygen tank, and tubes ran from it to Herman’s nose.
Herman had looked in the mirror after rising and was shocked at how gaunt he appeared. He knew he was dying; it was another thing to see it creep closer day by day. On his last visit to the doctor, he was told he may have only months left, possibly even weeks.
Other than the occasional passing car, the neighborhood was quiet. Nearly everyone on the block worked during the week, and those that didn’t work stayed indoors a good portion of the day.
As Herman unfolded his newspaper to begin reading, a man stepped out of a car that was parked across the street and three doors down. He looked to be about forty, was tall, and had dark blond hair with an even darker beard. The man moved like a panther as he strode across the street; the muscular arms hanging from his short-sleeved shirt had an impressive pair of biceps.
It wasn’t until he was closer that Herman noticed the package the man was carrying. It was shaped like a brick and covered in plain brown wrapping paper.
Despite the smile on the man’s face, Herman grew tense as he came up the porch steps.
“Hello, Mr. McCoy.”
“Yeah, um hi… do I know you?”
“You know of me. My name is Tanner. I handled a problem for you years ago.”
Herman’s mouth dropped open and he began to sweat. If this man was the Tanner that Tony had told him about, then that meant he was a killer.
“I, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, you do. Your friend Tony Costa acted as a go-between for us and I killed a scum bag named Damon Wheeler for you. I’d like to help you out again.”
Herman met the man’s eyes, then looked away as he asked him a question.
“Are you a cop?”
Ryker laughed. “I’m no damn cop. I’m a hit man named Tanner.”
Herman shook his head.
“You’re too young to be Tanner, besides, Tony told
me Tanner was an old pro. You couldn’t have been more than twenty or so when Wheeler was killed.”
“The Tanner you’re talking about was my mentor, Tanner Five. I’m Tanner Six. My mentor took the contract on Wheeler, but I’m the one who killed him as part of my training.”
“Tony told you about me?”
“He and my mentor were friendly, and Costa wanted to let him know that it was personal… because of what happened to your daughter.”
Herman folded up his newspaper as he prepared to grab his oxygen tank and leave the porch.
“Whoever you are, I have nothing to say about Wheeler.”
“I need you to do me a favor, Mr. McCoy. I’ll make it worth your while.”
Herman had been about to get up, but the younger man’s words intrigued him.
“Make it worth my while… what do you mean by that?”
“I’ll pay you fifty thousand dollars in cash.”
“What?”
“You heard me right. Fifty grand, and I’ll kill the deacons for you too.”
Herman stared at his visitor while he imagined what fifty thousand dollars would mean to Janet once he was gone. It was no fortune, but it was a damn sight better than nothing, which is what she would be facing.
“What’s this favor you want… Tanner?”
Ryker pointed at the oxygen tank.
“How bad off are you?”
“Bad enough that I won’t be around much longer.”
“Then I’m glad I came when I did. I meant what I said. I’ll give you the money and I’ll kill the men who raped and murdered your daughter.”
Herman was about to say something when he noticed two of his neighbors walking along on the sidewalk. It was an older black woman with her granddaughter, a little girl of three. Herman didn’t know the woman’s name, but they smiled and waved to each other whenever he was out on the porch, as he did now.
As the woman moved along, the little girl continued to stare at Ryker. When they were no longer close enough to hear anything, Herman spoke again.
“If you kill those bastards that murdered my daughter the cops will be knocking on my door the next day.”
Ryker shrugged. “So what? There’s no way you could have killed them, and I’m guessing you don’t have enough money to pay someone to do it. As long as you don’t let them find out about the fifty grand, they won’t know a thing. And even if you confessed, you’ll be dead soon.”
Herman considered Ryker’s words and nodded.
“All right, but you still haven’t told me what this favor is you want.”
“Call your friend Tony Costa and tell him you want to hire Tanner again.”
Herman’s face screwed up in confusion.
“You want me to tell Tony to hire you, why?”
“There’s a man pretending to be me. Tony will contact him and tell him about the deacons. Once that phony Tanner takes the contract, I’ll know where he’ll be on a given day.”
“You want to kill him?”
“I will kill him. I’ve let him get away with his charade of being a Tanner long enough.”
“That means there will be another murder on my conscience.”
“We’re not talking about saints here, Mr. McCoy, and don’t tell me you don’t want the deacons dead. I can only imagine how you feel.”
Herman shut his eyes. Whenever he thought about what the deacons did to his Mary, he wanted to cry.
“No, you can’t imagine. Even my wife doesn’t understand how much I despise them.”
Ryker reached into a pocket and withdrew a wallet. After opening it, he took out a photo and passed it across to Herman.
“That’s my daughter, so you see, I’m a father too.”
The girl in the picture was smiling and appeared to be about seventeen or eighteen.
“Is she your only child?”
“I have a son too, by a different woman.”
Herman passed the photo back as he said, “Tony will want money to give to the other Tanner. Does that come out of my fifty thousand?”
“No,” Ryker said. “I’ll be paying that too.”
“And you’ll kill the deacons?”
“Yes.”
“When will I get the money?”
Ryker passed over the package he’d been carrying.
“That’s ninety thousand dollars. After paying for the three hits, there should still be more than fifty grand left. Make certain to tell Costa that the deacons have to be killed early on Sunday.”
“Why Sunday?”
“I hired an investigator I’ve worked with before. He said that all three of them have jobs and they’ll likely sleep in that day.”
“What sort of jobs?”
“Two work some sort of menial labor while the third one is a bouncer at a nightclub. If they hadn’t been given the land they live on they’d have nothing. No one will miss them once they’re gone.”
Tears fell from Herman’s eyes as a wave of conflicting emotions passed through him. He felt relief, shame, joy, and fear. Above all, he was grateful he’d be able to die without leaving his wife destitute.
Herman gripped the brick of cash and looked over at Ryker with wet eyes.
“Thank you.”
Ryker smiled. “You’re welcome, and thank you too. We’re both going to get what we want.”
96
Sneaking In
STATEN ISLAND, NEW YORK, APRIL 2018
Simmons and Carlton were seated in a tavern and waiting for a pair of thugs to arrive. They were hiring two young men named Monty and Craig. They wanted them to break into the apartment of Beth Tang while the woman was at home.
When Monty and Craig appeared, Simmons waved them over to the table. After the forty-something waitress brought over another pitcher of beer and two more mugs, Simmons explained what they needed done.
Both boys were only nineteen, appeared to be years older, and had grown up on Staten Island. They had juvenile records for breaking & entering, and assault. Monty was just shy of six feet, skinny, and wore his blond hair long, while Craig’s dark hair was short and unruly.
Although he was only three inches taller than Monty, Craig looked much bigger because of the muscle he carried, and was the more dangerous of the two. He had spent time being evaluated in a mental institution after he bit off and swallowed the nose of a boy who had attempted to bully him. At the time, Craig was eleven-years-old.
Carlton didn’t like Craig, but Monty seemed to keep him under control, and Craig would do anything you asked of him as long as he was paid well.
After Simmons had explained what they wanted them to do, Monty asked for more details.
“You said this Beth Tang is rich. That means the building has a doorman and cameras.”
“Is that a problem?” Simmons asked.
“No biggie,” Monty said, “but I’ll have to pay someone to distract the doorman while Craig and I head up to the apartment.”
“I guess you will, so I’ll give you an additional five-hundred dollars.”
“We’ll get help from my brother,” Craig said. “He can use the cash.”
“How old is your brother?” Carlton asked.
“He’s twenty-three, and he just did six months in jail.”
“What was he charged with?”
Craig made a face of disgust.
“It was bullshit! He banged some bitch who was only sixteen and they said it was rape. Wire didn’t rape her. The bitch was begging for it.”
“Your brother is named Wire?”
“It’s a nickname he got when he ran with a biker gang, but now he’s a fighter. His real name is Joseph, and he’s a mixed martial artist.”
“Is he any good at it?”
“Hell yeah, he’s a pro. Wire made over twenty grand fighting last year.”
“Use your brother to distract the doorman,” Simmons said. “But we need you to find out if Beth Tang knows the whereabouts of that black book.”
“What if she don’t kn
ow anything?” Monty said.
“Then we’ll have to look elsewhere.”
“Yeah, but I’m guessing you don’t want the cops knowing that you’re looking for this black book, and this woman will tell them about it… unless.”
Simmons looked over at Carlton and saw him nodding.
“Monty’s right,” Carlton said. “Dalton’s sister would surely tell the police about her interrogation.”
“Pay us double and the bitch won’t say a word,” Craig told them.
Simmons pointed at him.
“All right. Kill her when you’re done with her, but I’ll still only give you five-hundred for distracting the doorman.”
“Deal,” Monty said, “and if anybody gets in the way, we’ll kill them too.”
“No,” Simmons said. “Don’t kill anyone else. If the husband is around or the children are there, just tie them up or something.”
“Shit. There are kids?”
“We don’t know, but we expect you to handle them if there are any.”
“We’ll have to go in fast and hard,” Monty said. “You know, surprise the fuckers.”
“When will you do the job?” Simmons asked.
“Tomorrow, after we talk to Wire.”
“Do what you have to do to find that book. In fact, we’ll give you a thousand-dollar bonus if you get your hands on it.”
Monty grinned. “If she knows where the book is, she’ll give it up.”
“Hey,” Craig said. “What’s this bitch look like?”
Simmons reached into an inside pocket and took out a folded piece of paper.
“I copied that off the computer. Beth Tang was involved in a charity for a homeless shelter and they did a story on an event they held to raise money. She’s the third woman on the left.”
Craig smiled. “A blonde, and not bad for an older woman. Maybe we’ll have a little fun with her too.”
“The cops would love that,” Carlton said. “Then they would have your DNA.”
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