Tanner- Year One

by Remington Kane

  “Be smart,” Tanner whispered to Shah. When her guards raised their eyes to look at her, she kept her face neutral. “The goddess wants to go out among the people,” Tanner said.

  More bowing, then two of the monitors unlocked and opened the palace doors. Tanner had tucked the weapon out of sight. He prodded Shah in the back with a finger. She stiffened and began moving toward the doors, believing Tanner had used the barrel of his gun.

  When they were outside, a murmur went through the crowd that had gathered. Many looked as if they had dressed in haste while a few were still buttoning shirts or walking with laces untied. Their goddess had illuminated the kingdom and appeared to have something to say to them. At such a late hour, it was thought to be an announcement of great import.

  Several of the monitors were gathered near Shah. Like the others, they were waiting to hear what she had to say.

  As they walked down the palace steps, Tanner scanned the crowd for Anna and Anya. He didn’t see them, but the assembly was growing by each second as the faithful flock gathered. As he had hoped, the children had been left in their beds, although there was a scattering of teens present.

  Tanner gave a slight bow as he spoke to Shah loud enough for others to hear. “Thank you for your hospitality, Goddess, now go out among your people as you planned.”

  Shasta Shah turned her head and scrutinized Tanner suspiciously. Her eyes asked the question. “Are you really letting me go?”

  Tanner prodded her in the back with his finger once more and Shah began walking away from the palace. A thrill passed through the crowd as the goddess strode among them. The four monitors at her side wore worried expressions, although they were all armed with rifles.

  “Let’s walk back up a few steps, Cannon,” Tanner said, “I want a good view.” Tanner had taken out his gun again. Shah turned to glare back at him, noticed the weapon, and began walking faster to put distance between them.

  A hand reached out from the crowd and brushed Shah’s face, then another one slid a palm across her gown. Cries of “Goddess, the goddess,” reverberated through the growing multitude, then gained volume.

  Shah, unable to command her people to kneel or step away, spun around to return to the safety of her palace. As she did so, she extended an arm to point back at Tanner. With her flock around her as a shield against his gun, she thought herself safe and attempted to sic her guards on Tanner.

  The gesture and her frantic mumbling produced the effect she’d wanted. To a man, the four monitors stared back in Tanner’s direction. By doing so, they had taken their attention away from the crowd.

  A large woman sprang from the swarm and embraced Shah in a hug. The cherub-cheeked follower was crying while expressing to Shah how much she adored her. Shah escaped the woman’s grip only to be grabbed by two others, they held her arms while kissing her on her cheeks.

  Tanner held his gun over his head to maintain the monitors’ attention. Two of them headed back toward him, but they were going against a rising tide of worshipers. As for Shah, her people were mauling her in their eagerness to display their affection for her. While one group tugged her left, another was pulling her toward the right.

  “I’ve got the goddesses’ shoe,” proclaimed a woman’s voice.

  “I have to touch her!” another said.

  The monitors, now alerted, rushed to aid their mute mistress. It was a hopeless task. The crowd was undulating like a human wave as it carried Shasta Shah deeper into its center. The guards couldn’t use the guns, for fear of striking Shah. In desperation, one of the monitors fired his machine gun on full auto, the shots were directed over the heads of those gathered. Worshippers who were near the guards parted, however, the frenzied crowd continued, even as it grew in size and zeal.

  “They’ll kill her,” Cannon said in a hushed voice, his tone filled with wonder.

  “Maybe,” Tanner said. “After all, they love her to death.”

  From where he stood upon the steps, Tanner was able to catch glimpses of Shah. She was being passed among those in the mob like a rabid fan crowd surfing in a mosh pit. The tiara was gone, along with her shoes, and a sleeve was missing from the gown. Although it was difficult to be certain given the distance, Tanner thought he saw scratches covering her face and neck.

  Shah dropped from sight again, then resurfaced. Two women were gripping handfuls of her hair. In an attempt to rescue her, one of the burly monitors tugged at her body. When a clump of hair was wrenched from her scalp, the goddess regained her voice.

  The glue gave way to an epic scream of pain while leaving Shah with bloody lips. She began shouting orders and commands, which were drowned out by the clamor of the crowd. The monitor who had reached her was shoved to the ground as the throng shifted once more. The last Tanner saw of Shah, her mouth was open in a scream that spoke of agony.

  Cannon stood beside Tanner looking gray. His color didn’t improve when Tanner urged him to walk back to the pickup truck.

  “I’m next, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah, but it can go easy or hard for you.”

  Cannon’s face reddened as he took a step toward Tanner. “Why? Because we sold a few girls? And we’re not talking school teachers or nurses, the dumb bitches joined a cult, man. Anyone that fucking stupid deserves to be used.”

  Tanner struck Cannon with a backhanded slap that took him down to one knee. That was followed by a kick that placed the militia leader on his back. A second kick rocked Cannon’s head and put him out. Tanner fought the temptation to kick the man to death, as he wanted information Cannon possessed.

  After tucking away the gun, Tanner hefted Cannon up, carried him to the pickup, and dumped him into the truck’s bed.

  The four-digit code that allowed access granted egress as well, and Tanner drove up into the hills, where Cannon would join those who had died earlier. And as the gate closed behind him, a scream echoed in the night.

  33

  Order From Chaos

  Tanner told Kate everything Nick Cannon had revealed about the people Joy and the other women were sold to. They were a drug gang in Florida who were also involved in prostitution and sexual slavery.

  After killing Cannon and leaving his body beside those of his men, Tanner had called Pullo and learned that he had moved Gracie and Kate to a good hotel. The money to pay for it came from the two grand Pullo had been paid by Logan.

  Gracie shed tears when she learned of Briggs’ death. The ATF agent was being credited with exposing the scandal. He left behind a widowed father and two younger sisters.

  When Tanner and Pullo informed Gracie that Nick Cannon and his group of mercenaries were all dead, she was both shocked and pleased by the news.

  “Briggs’ death will bring the government down on our heads,” Gracie said. “The militia will be lucky to survive.”

  “Your group will need a new leader,” Tanner said. “Why don’t you go after the job?”

  “Me? But I’m only twenty-six.”

  “How old was your grandfather when he helped to found the group?”

  Gracie smiled. “He was twenty-three, but he had a wife, a four-year-old son, and had been to war overseas.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself, Gracie,” Pullo told her. “And hell, you’ll damn well do a better job than Nick Cannon.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Gracie said.

  Saying goodbye to Kate was tougher than Tanner thought it would be. He also didn’t like the fact that her sister’s fate was up in the air. Although, the FBI had begun their investigation into the militia and the cult.

  The militia members were cooperating fully, at Gracie’s advice. While it went against the grain of many in the militia, they were all mindful of how tragic a situation could become when resistance got out of hand.

  Instead of one leader, Gracie made the suggestion that the council members vote on the issues. That was how the militia’s founders had run things in the early days, and it would be that way again.

  As for th
e cult, all was chaos. Their beloved goddess had perished at the hands of the very faithful who professed to worship her. It was their unbridled adoration that proved to be her downfall. This fact spawned guilt in the cult members and left them feeling disillusioned about their faith. No one martyrs a goddess they themselves destroyed.

  Shasta Shah’s demise was being ruled as death by misadventure. The harsh reality is that she died after being crushed underfoot when her monitors panicked and fired on the crowd.

  Though eight cult members were wounded, with one still in intensive care, Shah was the night’s only casualty.

  With her death, many of her followers fled the grounds after the monitors left the gates open upon their own departure. Of those that remained, a few looted the palace, with one cultist making off with Shah’s jewelry.

  A group of seven made the walk to the militia base in the early morning hours, among them were Anna and Anya. They were devastated by Shah’s demise, while disillusioned by the way it came about. The young women and their friends were denied entrance until Gracie took pity on them and let them stay in the unoccupied tents. When the young men in camp caught sight of the stunning sisters, they petitioned the council to let them stay and become part of the group.

  Had it just been Anna and Anya, the decision might have been no. Luckily for the sisters, Glenda, the former chef, was a part of their group. Gracie had placed her in the mess hall when she discovered her credentials. No one on the council wanted to lose a gifted cook. Anna and Anya had found a new home.

  Those that stayed inside the cult compound were detained by the police and questioned extensively. There were no records of who had joined the cult. However, a file was found indicating that the cultists’ vehicles and property were signed over to Shasta Shah, who then disposed of them by selling to local businesses.

  One such establishment was T.J.’s Used Car Sales. When the FBI came calling to ask about his connection to the cult, T.J.’s other enterprise was discovered. The next day, he was released on bail. As he was headed toward a cab, two associates of Danny Vitroli intercepted T.J. and insisted on giving him a ride. As Pullo had warned, the western Pennsylvania mob leader wasn’t pleased when he discovered he hadn’t received a cut of T.J.’s action.

  Tanner was saying goodbye to Kate inside her hotel room, as Pullo did the same with Gracie. Kate was sad to see Tanner go, but her heart was broken at the thought her sister could be lost forever.

  “I’m hoping the authorities can find Joy after they’ve gone through the records at the militia and the cult, but it doesn’t look promising.”

  “What are the Feds in Florida saying?”

  Kate wiped away a tear. “They say that the gang has been suspected of dealing in sexual slavery, but only as middle men. That means Joy could have been sold to anyone.”

  “Someone in the gang would know who has her, or at least who they gave her to.”

  “Maybe, but they have no reason to tell the cops and the FBI who that is.”

  “What are your plans, Kate?”

  “I’m going back home to Maryland. Mostly because I don’t know what else to do.”

  As Tanner drove them away from the hotel to head back to New York City, he noticed that Pullo was in a better mood than he’d expected. The reason became clear when Pullo spoke.

  “Gracie’s coming to visit me in the city next month.”

  “Maybe she’ll fall in love with Manhattan and stay.”

  “I doubt it, but you know, if I took a plane, I could be back here in less than two hours.”

  “That sounds like a trip worth taking, but keep an eye out for the Feds if you travel here soon. They’re still looking to question us.”

  “What about you and Kate?”

  “It’s not like that for us, but I plan to call her up someday.”

  Pullo laughed. “How come every time we get involved in something simple it turns into something complicated?”

  “Just lucky I guess.”

  Pullo slid down in his seat and closed his eyes. “Wake me up when you get tired of driving.”

  “I’ll drive the whole trip. The sooner we get back the better, and this Caddy rides nicer than that other car.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” Pullo said while grinning.

  After making one stop for gas and a bathroom break, they arrived in Manhattan that evening.

  34

  Someone Wants To Talk To You

  MIAMI, FLORIDA, AUGUST 2004

  After speaking to Kate by phone a week after returning to New York City, Tanner heard the despondency in her voice. She had all but given up on the hope she would ever see her sister again.

  The gang in Miami denied involvement in sex slave trafficking and their lawyer made certain that the police respected their rights.

  That did not protect them from Tanner.

  Three hours after speaking to Kate, Tanner boarded a flight to Florida. Years earlier, he had failed to protect his own sisters from harm. He was a boy then, and untrained. Now he was the deadliest of men. He intended to find Joy and free her.

  By noon the following day, he had acquired a weapon with a silencer, thanks to an underworld contact recommended by Joe Pullo.

  The gang in question was comprised of former members of a Venezuelan drug cartel. Tanner confronted three of their members as the first stage of tracking down Kate’s sister.

  The men were inside a tenth-floor condo that granted a view of the beach. They were celebrating after having returned from making a drug deal. The heroin they sold had been worth sixty-thousand dollars. The money sat on a coffee table where there were lines of coke and a rolled up hundred-dollar bill.

  Tanner had broken in while they were absent and stayed hidden after they’d returned. The liquor and drugs they had consumed would only slow their reflexes and make them easier to kill.

  Tanner surprised them by entering from where he had been standing out on the balcony. The sun had given his face the beginnings of a tan.

  Speaking to them in their native Spanish, Tanner asked about the women they had been sold earlier in the year. One of the men sent a string of vehement Spanish curses his way then told Tanner that he was a “Hombre muerto,” a dead man.

  Tanner turned the gang member into an hombre muerto by sending a sound-suppressed round through his head. As the other two men reached behind their backs for their weapons, Tanner calmly kneecapped them both. When the initial screams of pain subsided, he asked about the women again.

  The older of the men reached out for the weapon he’d dropped and received two bullets to the chest. This prompted the remaining man, the youngest, to shout out a name.

  “Maxine’s! Maxine’s!”

  “Who is Maxine?”

  “It’s a brothel in New Orleans.”

  “You sold the women to them?”

  The man was silent for a moment as a wave of agony spiked in his damaged knee. It caused him to break out in sweat. Once it passed, he nodded. His English was good and without accent. That likely meant he was a second-generation thug.

  “They paid us more than the bitches cost us. The one with the blue eyes and blonde hair went for nearly double.”

  “What shape were they in when you handed them over?”

  The thug’s brow wrinkled in confusion. It made an old white scar above his right eye resemble a question mark.

  “What do you mean, shape?”

  “Had they been raped?”

  A shrug, then, “Yeah, I mean, shit, we broke them in, you know? Maxine’s doesn’t need bitches who don’t know their place.”

  “Give me an address.”

  The man told Tanner the brothel was located in New Orleans’ Ninth Ward.

  “It’s nice there, and they got upscale customers, like truckers and salesmen. There are worse places to be a whore.”

  Tanner brought the gun up to fire and an indignant look came over the gangbanger.

  “Hey, man, we had a deal. I tell you where the bitches are,
and you let me live.”

  “We never made a deal.”

  “It was implied.”

  Tanner nearly smiled. “Implied?”

  If he didn’t know the scumbag would warn the people at Maxine’s, Tanner might have let him live. As things stood, he gave him a quick death by shooting him in the head.

  NEW ORLEANS

  Maxine’s turned out to be a blue house in a neighborhood of cookie cutter homes. Men came and went from the brothel up until the early hours of the morning.

  Tanner spotted three guards, although a fourth man might stay inside the house. As for the other three, they took turns working in teams of two to check out the customers before they were allowed inside. It was a blatant operation that must have been protected by bribes or heavy influence, perhaps both.

  Being summer, there were children playing in a nearby park, then at night, the local teenagers used the playground as a hangout. Those factors caused Tanner to reconsider his plans for a frontal assault. He didn’t want to risk a stray bullet injuring a child. There was also the risk of Joy and the other women getting injured.

  That was why he decided to be patient and observe what went on when the workday, or in this case, work night, ended.

  One of the burly bodyguards retrieved a van from where it had been parked across the street. The van’s rear windows were heavily-tinted and there was a security lock on the double doors. The guard drove the vehicle the short distance it took to place it into the home’s cracked driveway. Afterward, he sat waiting.

  A minute later, the other two men came out of the house with seven women who were dressed in short shorts, skimpy halter tops, and spiked heels. The fifth woman to leave the house resembled the photo of Joy Wyman that Tanner had seen. As was true of the other women, Joy’s face was devoid of emotion.