The Tanner Series - Books 1-11: Tanner - The hit man with a heart

by Remington Kane

  It was not to be, as Tanner sent one of his two remaining shots down the corridor and struck Richards in the back, which sent the man sprawling atop the polished marble floor.

  Tanner grabbed a rifle from one of the bodyguards who had died first near the elevator, retrieved his shoes, and placed a mercy round into the surviving guard’s forehead. With that done, he walked back past the front doors, which were secured with the handcuffs he had placed on them before going upstairs.

  Following the trail of blood that Richards left behind, he saw that the man had tried to crawl away to safety, but there was no safety in Richards’ future, only imminent death.

  Trent wiped away the water that was still dripping down from his hair, then he opened Tim’s laptop.

  “What’s the password?” Trent asked, and when Madison wouldn’t speak, he threatened once more to have Tim tortured, which caused her to give him the password.

  “Stop fighting me, Madison. I’m not here to hurt you.”

  The laptop was the one that Tim had dedicated to breaking the encryption, so Trent had no difficulty finding what he was looking for. He paused for a moment, recalled the sequence and input the correct alphanumeric combination, which decoded the files.

  “It all looks to be here, but I’ll need every copy.”

  Madison stared at him with a curious gaze. “What happened to you, Al? When we were kids, you weren’t like this. You were just a sweet nerdy boy who couldn’t wait to grow up. What made you what you are now?”

  “And just what do you think I am, Madison?”

  “A murderer, the man who killed my mother.”

  “Your mother brought about her own end; I just chose not to intercede.”

  “You admit you were there when she died?”

  “Yes, and despite the sainted image you have of her, your mother was drunk that night and high on something. She could have just as easily run me over as collide into that tree.”

  Realization dawned on Madison’s face. “That’s how you found us, isn’t it? You were watching the tree and saw me visit?”

  “Yes, but why so late?”

  “We had car trouble; a fan belt broke out on the highway.”

  “Ah,” Trent said, before checking his watch; his new watch, as the old one had been sacrificed to find Madison. “Where is Gary? He must have caught Jackson by now.”

  He took out his phone, but then heard footsteps on the front porch.

  “Here they are,” Trent said, then pointed at Madison. “Stay put.”

  She glared at him in return.

  Trent went to the door, opened it, and found Tim pointing a gun at him.

  “Madison!” Tim shouted.

  She rushed to him, as relief flooded her features, but when she came even with Trent, he shoved her toward Tim and ran into the living room, headed for the back door.

  Tim and Madison had both taken shooting lessons from Tanner, but rarely hit what they were shooting at. Tanner had told them that it took time for most people to learn to shoot well, as he schooled them on firearms and the proper way to sight and hit a target.

  None of what he had learned was in Tim’s mind as he raised the gun and fired. Still, Trent stumbled and yelped, as the phone still clutched in his hand went flying and he landed on the floor beside the sofa.

  Before they could get to him, Trent rolled over, used the sofa to help rise to his feet, then ran into the hallway that led to the rear door.

  When Madison helped Tim limp into the living room, they found blood on the floor near the sofa.

  Madison grinned. “You got him.”

  151

  Hey… Weren’t You Dead?

  Tanner figured his shot had inflicted damage to Richards’ spine and that the man could no longer walk. When he reached him, he turned him over onto his back with one hand and glared down at him.

  Richards’ face was a mask of pure terror, but then Tanner saw the glimmer of recognition form. Despite the spiked blond hair, Richards recognized him, and the terrorized expression morphed into one of confusion.

  “Tanner?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re… you’re dead.”

  “I think that’s my line,” Tanner said, as he placed the rifle against Richards’ forehead.

  Realization dawned on Richards’ face, coupled with a look of amazement. He was Franklin Quentin Richards, the eldest son of Carlton Bane Richards and the grandson of Wall Street legend, Preston Harcourt Richards. Men such as he did not die on their backs at the hands of a thug, they forged financial empires, influenced world markets, and ruled, above all else, they ruled.

  For Frank Richards, the concept of dying had always been abstract, never impending. He was to have died a very old man inside the walls of a palatial estate, after having spent a lifetime accumulating power. And to die now, when he was so close to grabbing fistfuls of raw power, of becoming the sole directing force behind the Conglomerate, it was… inconceivable.

  He stared up at Tanner and said four words with total conviction. “You can’t do this!”

  “Wanna bet?”

  Tanner placed one round in Richards’ head, followed by a shot to the heart.

  With that done, he strode to a door marked, ELECTRICAL, and blew the lock apart. He then entered the small room, and with a snap of the main breaker, Tanner shut down the power to the building.

  He had hesitated for just an instant before hitting the switch. Not only because inaction could bring death to many, if not all the Conglomerate’s leadership, an organization that had vowed to kill him, but also because Joe Pullo was inside whatever trap Richards had set; Joe Pullo, who was now sleeping with Laurel Ivy.

  But the same man who caused him to hesitate in taking the action was also the reason for its execution. Tanner did not wish Pullo dead and he would save him if he could.

  With a sigh, he left the tiny room, stepped over Richards’ corpse, and went to see if shutting off the power had made any difference in whatever was going on.

  Outside the conference room, Johnny stared in at the dormant gun, which had killed so many.

  Most of the Conglomerate’s corporate members were dead. They had rushed toward the door in a blind panic and the gun picked them off with ease.

  A few Mafioso were dead as well, but they were men who had come up on the streets, and generally knew when to take cover.

  Pullo had moved Sam into a corner when it became apparent that the gun had been programmed to not only track movement, but to also deliver random shots about the room, including the conference table, whose wood surface provided little cover from a .223 Remington cartridge.

  Seeing his chance, Pullo rushed toward the gun. He tried to free it from its swivel base without luck but did managed to pull the feeder from the magazine holder and extract the round in its chamber.

  Upon seeing this, Johnny had breathed a sigh of relief, but then tensed up, as he heard someone approaching, because his gun was empty. In frustration, he had used every round to try to shatter the door without even scratching it.

  It was Tanner, with his dyed blond hair looking orange beneath the red glow of the emergency lights. When Johnny saw him, he smiled.

  “You cut the power, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, did it work?”

  “It did, but a lot of guys had already died.”

  “Richards is one of them.”

  Johnny grinned and punched him on the shoulder. “Good man, but what about Vance?”

  Johnny got his answer, as Vance came around the corner with a rifle in his hand and opened fire.

  152

  Hidey-Hole

  The bodies of Lars Gruber and Jackie Verona had been pulled from the ground. Mario had honored his agreement.

  Geary was flying high and knew that with double murder charges hanging over his head, Mario would cooperate and wear a wire.

  Hell, she’d be willing to bet he’d wear a pink tutu if she told him to put one on.

  She looked over at Mario
and saw that he was staring at her. “Why so glum? Your daughter is safe, just like you wanted.”

  Mario walked off toward the trees. “I have to take a leak.”

  Geary watched him go, suspicious and worried that he might do something stupid like try to run off through the trees. What she didn’t expect him to do, was to grab a shovel and start digging inside the first hole the cops had dug, the one he had said was a mistake.

  Geary walked over, Garner too, along with Kearns the lawyer, and a state trooper.

  They watched him dig, and all four of them wore expressions that revealed fascination and confusion.

  “Mario,” Kearns said. “What are you doing?”

  Mario removed three more piles of dirt, tossed the shovel aside, and sat on the edge of the hole, to gaze up at Geary.

  “The body that was shot so many times, that was Tanner. He had been hiding inside a box, a portable toilet, then he jumped out and surprised Gruber. Would you like to see the box?”

  Geary pointed at the hole. “Is it down there?”

  “It is—along with Gruber’s gun.”

  Mario had been reaching down into the hole as he spoke. When his hand emerged, it was holding a weapon. The gun had been buried in the ground for nearly two weeks, but unfortunately for Geary, it still worked.

  Mario aimed upwards at her startled face and the bullet caught her just above the lips and sent her tumbling backwards.

  Garner caught her, as the state trooper fired three shots into Mario’s torso, killing him.

  Mario’s lawyer, Kearns, was making a keening sound after witnessing the violence. When he looked over at Geary and saw what a 9mm bullet did to a human skull upon exiting, he fell to his knees and vomited.

  Garner was calling Geary’s name, even though he knew she was dead. The one thought that kept going through his mind were words that Geary had said the night before.

  Come tomorrow, everyone in the Bureau will know my name.

  And they would, as news of the death of a fellow agent traveled fast.

  Garner wiped away tears cried for a woman he hadn’t even liked, as another partnership ended in gunfire.

  153

  Such Sweet Sorrow

  Trent was seeing double by the time he reached Gary’s van, and if not for the heavy rain continually washing it away, he would have been a bloody mess.

  Tim’s shot had entered Trent’s back, bounced off a rib and performed malicious acts on his intestines, before coming to rest inside his spleen.

  Trent had never felt so much pain, but fear of death kept him on his feet and moving through the rain, despite the agony. He climbed inside the van and moaned in pleasure from the relief of it, that is, until he remembered that he didn’t have the keys, Gary did.

  “Here.”

  The soft voice came from behind and startled him so that he cried out.

  It was Gary. He was stretched out on his back in the rear of the van with an ugly rusted piece of pipe jutting out of his stomach. The floor beneath him was stained red with blood.

  “Here,” Gary said again, and this time, Trent saw that he was holding up the keys to the van.

  “What happened to you, Jackson?”

  Gary nodded and closed his eyes.

  Trent started the van, felt the mud cling to the tires as if to hold it in place, but then got it moving and back out onto the wet road. The wipers were going double-time and still Trent was having trouble seeing.

  The problem didn’t lie in the weather conditions alone, but also in the driver, as Trent’s eyesight blurred.

  He blamed it on his glasses, which were still spattered with rain, and he reached down to take a tissue from the center console.

  He whipped the glasses off, wiped them dry, and placed them back on his face just in time to see the deer standing in the road.

  Reflexively, he swerved to avoid the creature, jumped the curb and flipped the van.

  As he lay inside the van waiting for someone to rescue him, Trent remembered the deer that Madison’s mother had swerved to avoid and wondered if it had somehow been the same animal he had just seen.

  It was the last thought he would ever have.

  Tanner dropped to the floor along with Johnny, even as Vance opened up with the rifle. Johnny was armed with Tanner’s other Ruger, but the gun was empty, so he lay sideways against the wall to try to make himself a smaller target.

  Tanner fired back with his own rifle and Vance retreated after a bullet tore across his right cheek. Vance had been holding a bag in his other hand, but let it drop to the floor before running off.

  Tanner rose to go in pursuit and Johnny joined him.

  “I’m empty, Romeo.”

  Without slowing down, Tanner took a spare magazine from a side pocket and passed it to Johnny, who ejected the spent magazine and fed in the fresh one while keeping pace.

  When they reached the spot where Vance had been, they saw the bag he’d dropped, along with its contents, which had spilled out atop the carpet. They were more spent magazines, the type used in an AR-15. Tanner assumed that Vance had been coming to the room to plant them as evidence.

  When they reached the elevators, Johnny slowed, but then he remembered that the power was out and rushed with Tanner toward the stairs, which were at the other end of the short corridor facing them.

  There was a door on either side of the hallway. Tanner wondered if Vance had hidden within one of the rooms. Then he spotted the tiny drops of blood whose trail disappeared behind the stairwell door.

  Tanner opened the door with caution and heard Vance’s footfalls come from below. He and Johnny followed Vance by practically leaping down the dimly lit stairs and heard the door at the bottom bang open and then close.

  Johnny left the stairwell to stare in shocked surprise at the bodies of Richards’ bodyguards, while a string of Russian curses came from the other end of the building, as Vance stumbled upon the body of Frank Richards.

  Vance was just a dark shape in the gloom of the emergency lighting, but Johnny fired on him. However, the man had already moved on and was headed toward the loading dock and the street beyond.

  Tanner and Johnny gave chase, but when they went outside, they saw no sign of Vance.

  The Russian had escaped.

  When they returned inside, Tanner restored the power, after Johnny told him about Pullo disarming the swivel-mounted rifle.

  “I still have to get them out of that room, any suggestions?”

  “There was a keypad, wasn’t there?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  Tanner recalled something that Tim had said, when he told him the story of breaking into Richards’ computer.

  “When you get upstairs, try typing in the word, MUMSY. I’ve a hunch it will work.”

  “All right, but what do you mean when I get upstairs, aren’t you coming too?”

  “I’m done, boss man, I did what I came here to do and now it’s time I’ve left the city.”

  Johnny offered his hand, Tanner took it and the two men shook.

  “At least come by the club later so I can pay you for what you’ve done. I promise you, I’ll be generous.”

  “You can repay me by looking out for Sophia Verona. Don’t let anything happen to her.”

  “I’ll do that. She means something to me too, it’s why I sent you to watch over her in the first place, but I still owe you, Romeo. If there’s ever anything you want, just ask.”

  “I’ll do that,” Tanner said.

  After discarding the blood-spattered white shirt, under which he wore a black tee, Tanner walked through the loading dock and out onto the street with a strange feeling of peace. He was believed to be dead and could move on and start over.

  He had planned to catch a cab, but walked instead, when he realized that he might never return to the city. He liked Manhattan, liked the hustle and energy, and the anonymity the city could offer.

  But not to him, he was burned in New York and would start fresh somewhere else. As
someone else?

  If so, it was not an experience he was unfamiliar with.

  154

  Leverage

  “It’s all here, holy crap, it’s all here!”

  Tim’s sprained ankle was forgotten as he studied his laptop screen. While checking the files, Trent had accessed them by entering the correct code and never got the chance to close it again.

  Madison sat beside Tim on the sofa. “This means we’re safe, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, us and Tanner, we can hold these financial records over their heads and blackmail them. They wouldn’t dare touch us, couldn’t touch us, not without destroying themselves. If the IRS had these, it would be disastrous for the Conglomerate.”

  Tim sent copies of the decoded files to numerous cloud storage sites, printed out two hard copies, then closed the laptop. While he was doing that, Madison had cleaned up Trent’s blood, secured the back door, and loaded a suitcase into the car.

  They couldn’t stay at the farm with Trent on the loose and had no way of knowing who else would come. Tim also needed to see a doctor about his ankle, while Madison had treated the scrape on her forehead and bandaged it.

  When they drove off, they came upon a bad accident. The sparse traffic was halted as they waited for the ambulance to remove the victims.

  “That’s a shame,” Tim said. “Someone flipped that van; they must have been traveling too fast in this downpour.”

  Madison agreed, while also saying that she hoped there were no children inside.

  In the coming days, they would learn who had been inside that van, and they would both smile at the knowledge.

  155

  A Matched Set