The Spy Game (A Tanner Novel Book 21)

by Remington Kane

  Magyar was rushing toward the entrance to the building, where a battered and bloody Mirella was staggering about. Magyar went to his daughter and held her, while taking out his phone to call an ambulance.

  “Let’s go,” Tanner told Vernon.

  “I won’t get in that car. You’ll have to shoot me.”

  Tanner answered him by smashing a fist into the side of Vernon’s head. Combined with the pain Vernon was already feeling, the new level of agony took the fight out of him. He shuffled along with Tanner guiding him by the elbow and was tumbled inside the car across the rear seats. When he didn’t move, Tanner was surprised to find Vernon had lost consciousness.

  He hadn’t hit the man hard enough to knock him out and was wondering if he was faking. When he found the laceration on Vernon’s scalp he assumed the man had received it as a consequence of the bomb going off.

  Large zip ties were used to secure Vernon and keep him attached to the frame of the back seat. As he drove away from the curb, Tanner looked in the rear-view mirror. He saw Magyar crying tears of pain and joy.

  39

  The Eyes Have It

  After reaching his destination, Tanner looked back to see that Vernon was still unconscious.

  Cal Vernon’s concern for the return of his cell phone had caused Tanner to wonder why it was so important to the man. He decided to look into it and found a file with a single line of alpha-numeric text.

  The number began with a three-digit combination that Tanner found familiar. It sounded like the password Vernon had recited to Owen Bishop, the same one that would access the data drive. Tanner didn’t remember the number, but he recalled enough of it to make the connection.

  He took out the data drive and put it on. It wasn’t a golden USB stick, the data drive was a pair of thick-framed eyeglasses, Owen Bishop’s eyeglasses. Cal Vernon hadn’t held onto them as a souvenir. He kept them because Bishop had been beaten until he revealed the truth about them.

  There was a flash of light and the words, ENTER PASSWORD appeared on the rear surface of the lens in a light-blue color. If anyone were looking at them from the front, they would see nothing.

  Tanner spoke the alpha-numeric code aloud and new words appeared, ACCESS GRANTED.

  After looking over a menu of options and exploring the device’s capabilities, Tanner changed the password and removed the glasses.

  On a hunch, he signed on to the website of a foreign bank that offered discreet and secure services. He already had an account there with the same opening prefix as a bank account number he’d discovered on Vernon’s phone.

  After inputting the alpha-numeric code again, a welcome screen appeared and prompted him to enter the answers to several security questions. Tanner had made progress, but he would be unable to gain entry to the account without Vernon’s help. It was time to have a final word with the man.

  On the grounds of the Brussels Cemetery, Tanner waved ammonia under Cal Vernon’s nose and watched him stir to wakefulness. Vernon released a moan as he squirmed against his bonds. Tanner had dragged him from the car and tied him to the base of a tree.

  “We’ve come to the end, Vernon. All that’s left is to see what kind of death you want, easy or hard.”

  Vernon gazed about and saw a line of tombstones. The sight did not boost his hope of escape.

  After releasing another moan, he closed his eyes.

  “My head hurts more than I can ever remember, and my left eye is… fuzzy.”

  “The pain will be over soon, or it can increase. It’s your choice.”

  “You want the code for the account I put the money in?”

  Tanner held up the phone. “I already have that. I need the answers to your security questions.”

  “The code, tell me what it is. I’ve been trying to remember that damn number all day.”

  “I’m not giving answers, Vernon, you are,” Tanner said, then he thumped a fist atop Vernon’s head.

  Vernon’s eyes bulged as he let out a cry of pain and went limp. There were tears in the man’s eyes and a line of drool dripped from the side of his mouth.

  “Please… don’t… don’t do that again. It’s, it’s sheer agony.”

  “You know how to make it stop.”

  “The money, why don’t we share it?”

  “Understand something. You’re a dead man whether I access the accounts or not. By the way, Damián Sandoval survived. He’s paid me to kill you. I’ll also be killing you for another survivor of the chateau, a pilot named Marcel. Now, which will it be, an easy death or a hard one?”

  Vernon lifted his head.

  “Accounts? You said accounts. Are you talking about the one I have back in the states?”

  “I might as well drain that too, you won’t need it.”

  “You can’t. Please, Tanner. That money isn’t mine; it’s there to pay for my grandmother’s nursing home. I swore to my grandfather I’d look out for her. She’s eighty-seven and I won’t have her being placed in some charity ward. The woman raised me.”

  Tanner heard the sincerity and apprehension in Vernon’s voice. He had thought the man incapable of caring about anyone but himself, but it seemed he was wrong.

  He remembered finding a faded photo in Vernon’s wallet. It was a picture of a much younger Cal Vernon standing between an older man and woman. All three had been smiling as they stood outside on what appeared to have been a summer day.

  The backdrop had shown a ranch house in the distance. The three were by a corral that held horses, and the nearby trees had been in full bloom. The boy in the photo had lost all his innocence since that picture had been taken, but perhaps he still possessed the ability to love.

  “I’ll leave that money where it is, okay?”

  “You will?”

  “Yes.”

  Vernon swallowed hard, then choked out two words.

  “Thank you.”

  Cal Vernon told Tanner everything he needed to know before he died, and he did so without further urging.

  In truth, Tanner had already fulfilled his mission by killing Owen Bishop and taking possession of the data drive. However, he had made a pledge to the pilot, Marcel, that he would kill Vernon, and so he did. He’d also made a contract with Damián Sandoval. He had fulfilled that promise as well by letting Vernon know that Sandoval survived and had paid Tanner to kill him.

  After catching some sleep, a quick workout, and a leisurely meal, Tanner opened a laptop and went on line. He had spent the night at a hotel in Brussels that was inexpensive and away from the tourists’ sites. Despite the low price, the room came with a balcony. You would be hard-pressed to fit more than two people on it, but the balcony sat in the sun and had a pleasant enough view.

  After accessing the bank where Vernon deposited his ill-gotten gains, Tanner again looked at the balance. There was one-hundred and fifty-one million euros, along with a small amount that must have been deposited to open the account. Other than the nine million he had to send off to Sandoval, it was his to keep.

  Tanner transferred funds into the account Sandoval had set up, then composed an email to the cartel leader telling him that a certain man died knowing he cared. He didn’t expect an immediate answer, and yet one came in before he had signed off. It contained only two words.

  “Well done.”

  The room service coffee was good, and as he sipped on his second cup of the brew, Tanner placed a call. He had been waiting to make the call because of the time difference, but he could wait no longer.

  When it was answered by a sleepy voice, he said, “Call this number on a different phone,” and clicked off.

  His instructions were followed, and the phone rang two minutes later. When he heard Sara’s voice again, this time sounding wide awake, Tanner sighed with pleasure.

  “Are you all right?” Sara asked.

  “Yes, and I’ve missed you.”

  He heard her laugh and marveled at how good it made him feel.

  “I’ve missed you too, and I l
ove you. Please tell me you’re coming home.”

  “I am, but I’ll need another day, and I love you too.”

  The call was brief to avoid being tracked down. Benedetti had to be going out of her mind after losing contact with him. Tanner didn’t care. He’d get in touch with her when the time was right.

  He considered the money again. It was a tremendous amount. He would put it to good use, the question was how?

  Tanner thought about the technological changes ahead. Some were coming fast, while others might take years to be the norm. Regardless of how soon they arrived, the fact was that the world was becoming a different place.

  Cameras were everywhere, and with facial recognition becoming sophisticated enough to see through disguises or masks, the life of an assassin would be more challenging.

  In recent years, he had become more reliant on using the services of people like Duke, and Tim Jackson, his hacker friend. Looking ahead, he couldn’t imagine functioning without them, or someone like them. The days when you could gun and run and not leave a trace were coming to an end thanks to omni-present surveillance, DNA testing, and the probable implementation of a universal ID card.

  Tanner could envision a time in the not too distant future when a man like himself could not exist. To work as an assassin in such a world one would have to be affiliated with an entity that could cover your electronic tracks, like a government.

  The very idea of losing his independence was vile to Tanner. Being a Tanner was the epitome of the independent spirit, and of one who lived unencumbered by laws.

  It then occurred to Tanner that an imaginative man with a fortune could create a way around the coming wave of restrictions technology would bring. Yes, but again, the question was how?

  Tanner left the balcony. Check-out time was approaching, and he had to get showered and dressed. He had an errand to run.

  Magyar smiled as he was leaving a hospital in Antwerp. Mirella’s injuries had turned out to be mainly cosmetic, although she had suffered a concussion. Still, she was alive and would recover. Magyar thought about the men he’d lost and sighed as he remembered his friend Hugo.

  Mirella would be released the next day and Magyar planned to take leave of Brussels and travel somewhere far away. He’d heard that the police there were eager to speak to him about his twelve dead “Security consultants.”

  They also wanted to question him about the missing client of his who had been staying in Suite A. If they managed to tie Luuc to him, he would have some very uncomfortable moments in an interrogation room.

  He trudged out into the hospital parking lot to get in his car. He was tired after being up all night and was looking forward to a few hours of sleep.

  After opening the car door, he felt a sharp and intense pain beneath his left armpit. The arm had been held out to hold open the vehicle’s door as he got behind the wheel.

  Magyar dropped into his seat and looked up to find Tanner wearing a hooded sweatshirt, The stiletto in Tanner’s gloved hand was slick with blood.

  “You stabbed me in the heart?” Magyar asked.

  Tanner nodded.

  Magyar reached for the gun he kept in his glove box and fell over. After his eyes fluttered once, he lost consciousness. Tanner leaned in and thrust the blade again, to cut deeper into the heart. He dropped the knife on the seat beside Magyar and walked off with his head down, to avoid the parking lot cameras. Tanner was going to an airport and ached to return home.

  Hours later, Tanner was on a short layover in Heathrow Airport. He was using an ID and passport that had cost him more than some people made in a year. The items had been obtained through contacts he maintained in Europe and were seldom used.

  He had developed them with the help of his mentor nearly two decades earlier and they had proven vital over the years, despite his infrequent need for them.

  While he might not be a spy with a government backing him up and seeing to his needs, as a Tanner he had resources of his own. If the CIA or any other agency was hoping to track his movements, they would be out of luck.

  On a huge television monitor, Tanner watched video that had been taken of the guests and employees fleeing the hotel in Brussels, after Magyar’s bomb had gone off. Television news crews had arrived on the scene after he’d left the hotel with Olivia.

  A sight came on the screen that made him smile. An older woman in a maid’s uniform was moving through the crowd exiting onto the street.

  The maid kept her head down and moved with purpose. She was wearing the distinctive red backpack with the tartan pouches that Tanner had abandoned in the stairwell. Tanner figured the woman’s days of cleaning toilets and making beds were over.

  After finding a quiet corner in a terminal, Tanner reached out to Benedetti on a disposable cell phone.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Out and about, seeing the sights,”

  “Please tell me you’re closing in on Vernon.”

  “Cal Vernon is dead, and I have the data drive. I’m already headed home.”

  “You left without me?”

  “I wanted to have a pleasant trip.”

  “Are you certain you have the correct device and not another fake?”

  “I’m certain, Vanessa Anne.”

  “What did you call me?”

  “Vanessa Anne Benedetti, born August 8, 1978 in Dublin, Ohio, to Lee and Karen Benedetti.”

  “You’ve hooked up the data drive to a computer?”

  “In a way. I knew Owen Bishop was brilliant and had a degree in computer technology, but he must have been a genius. The data drive isn’t simply for data storage, it’s a computer in its own right.”

  “What does it look like?”

  “Bishop wore the device in plain sight of everyone. It was his eyeglasses. I thought it strange that Vernon kept the glasses, even though he claimed they were a trophy of taking down Bishop. If he had bothered to take the fake device when he’d left the chateau I would have never considered it.”

  “You’re saying those ugly black eyeglasses of Bishop’s contain the databases he hacked into?”

  “It looks that way. After I got the glasses from Vernon I put them on and the image of a see-through monitor appeared before my eyes. When it prompted me to say a name or enter an image, I said your name, and your profile appeared. I think all Bishop had to do was look at someone’s photo, or see them in person, and the drive would give him their info. I would guess he could also integrate a security system into it wirelessly.”

  “It would be remarkable if we can duplicate them for our agents.”

  “I’ll call again when I get to New York and tell you where to meet me. Make sure Hanover is present, and I want Garrett there too.”

  “Why Garrett?”

  “Because I said so, Benedetti.”

  “I have a better idea. Tell me where you are, and I’ll meet you there and take the data drive back to D.C.”

  “That’s not our deal. The deal was for me to get the data drive and kill Bishop for you. I’ve done both. Now I’m setting the conditions about how I’ll turn it over to you.”

  “You never said anything about conditions.”

  “Goodbye, Benedetti.”

  After cursing Tanner for hanging up on her, Benedetti made arrangements to fly to New York City. Her second call was to Hanover. When she heard how pleased he was with Tanner’s accomplishments, she sought to dampen his enthusiasm.

  “Tanner says he’ll have conditions for turning over the data device.”

  “I expected that, and I’ll honor every one of them.”

  “Why not just kill the man?”

  “Before he hands over the drive? And what if he’s hidden it somewhere as a precaution? No, Miss Benedetti, I’ll placate the man until he hands over the data drive while assuring him that Miss Blake will never be prosecuted. When his guard is down, I’ll have him killed.”

  “That appears to be a difficult task.”

  “I’ll have five o
f our best snipers get in place while we’re meeting with him. Once Tanner leaves they’ll tear him to shreds.”

  “I smile just thinking about it, however, that will leave Miss Blake hanging out there like a loose end.”

  “You don’t have to concern yourself about her.”

  “Does that mean you’ve a plan for her as well?”

  “Absolutely,” Hanover said.

  In New York City, Sara was humming to herself as she drove along. She was returning home after having shopped. Besides the groceries she purchased to make a special meal, she also bought a new red negligee.

  Although it had been only days, it felt as if she’d been separated from Tanner for months. She wanted to make his return home something special.

  She pulled up to the steel door that opened onto the private garage and pressed a button. Nothing happened. The door had been acting up lately, but they’d had it fixed, and it had been perfect the last two weeks.

  No matter, there was also a keypad she could use. The small metal box that housed the keypad was too high up to reach from her vehicle. Sara opened her door and got out of the car to walk the few feet to key in the code.

  As she flipped open the weatherproof cover that protected the device, a man appeared. He was tall, dressed in a suit, and wore a smile. In his left hand was a large manila envelope.

  “Sara Blake?”

  “Yes.”

  When the man’s right hand reached beneath his suit coat, Sara sorely wished she hadn’t left her gun sitting inside her purse.

  40

  Let’s See You Handle This

  Tanner arrived in New York City and damned the circumstances that kept him from returning to Sara as soon as possible.

  He had to deliver the data drive and deal with Hanover, Benedetti, and Garrett. That they would have plans for him as well he never doubted. It was why he chose the time and place of their meeting.