The TANNER Series - Books 1-3 (Tanner Box Set)

by Remington Kane

  “Is Johnny in?”

  “This early? Not hardly, but that kid Richie Sullivan is here, still here actually, he’s been with one of the girls in Johnny’s office since closing time.”

  “Sully’s kid, what’s he like?”

  “He’s an even bigger prick than Sully was, God rest his soul, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

  “What’s he do, run this place with Johnny?”

  “The kid has his own crew. They do a few heists, rough up the late payers for Johnny R, stuff like that.”

  Tanner stared at the bartender.

  “I know there’s a sawed-off shotgun kept under the bar, don’t get any ideas about collecting that contract on me.”

  Carl backed up with his hands held high.

  “Tanner, that never crossed my mind. Listen, if I had those kind of balls I wouldn’t be a bartender.”

  “But as soon as I walk away you’ll call someone, won’t you?”

  “I... if I didn’t they’d kill me.”

  “Make the call while I go see the kid.”

  “Are you going to kill Richie?”

  “That’s up to him.”

  “I guess, but hey, don’t hurt the girl, she’s just trying to get by, ya know?”

  “I’ll send her out.”

  “Good, you got class Tanner, and balls too, to come in here like this, huge balls.”

  “Just stay away from that shotgun,” Tanner said and Carl swallowed hard.

  He left the bartender, strode down the hallway, and kicked in the door to the office.

  There was a large wooden desk across from the door, but on the right was a green leather sofa and atop the sofa was a naked redhead and a kid that had punk written all over him.

  The woman didn’t scream, but her eyes were wide with fright and when she saw the gun in Tanner’s hand, she licked at lips that had gone dry.

  “Out!” Tanner said, and the woman grabbed a silk robe from the floor and scurried past him and down the hallway.

  On the sofa, Richie Sullivan yawned and brushed back his jet-black hair with one hand, while the other reached for his cigarettes. He was wearing a pair of red boxer briefs and nothing else and his skinny chest was pale, but hairy.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Tanner.”

  Richie paused with the cigarette halfway to his lips, but after blinking fast several times, he placed it in his mouth and lit it with a match.

  “You’re worth a lot a money, Tanner; Johnny R has a hard-on for you. Did you really kill that fat fuck uncle of his?”

  “I want you to pass on a message to Johnny R and The Conglomerate.”

  “I’ll bite, what’s the message?”

  “I’m coming for them. I’ll kill Johnny R and Frank Richards and if anyone gets in my way, I’ll kill them too.”

  Richie laughed around his cigarette.

  “I heard you were a badass, but nobody told me you were crazy.”

  “Just give them the message.”

  There was a door behind the desk. It opened onto an alleyway that led to the street. Tanner headed for the door and just as he unlatched the lock, Richie bent down and grabbed a gun that was lying beneath the sofa. As he was bringing it up to fire, Tanner shot him. The bullet hit Richie’s hand, all but severing the thumb and Richie wailed as the gun tumbled back to the floor.

  Tanner left him without a backwards glance, walked down the alley, and past stacks of empty liquor bottles.

  The alley faced a tall wooden fence, but had a chain link fence on both ends with gates in each of them. Tanner opened the gate at his end and went out onto the street.

  ***

  Three doors down and across the road was a coffee shop. Tanner walked inside and joined Tim Jackson at a table near the front.

  When Tanner left Jackson, the boy genius was on his second stack of pancakes and upon his return, Tanner found him eating an omelet. Tim Jackson weighed 150 lbs. at most and Tanner wondered where the kid put all the food.

  The waiter brought Tanner a cup of coffee and as he took his first sip, a black Cadillac came to a skidding stop in front of the strip club. Five young men emerged, two of which carried shotguns and all five of them rushed into the club.

  Tim Jackson wiped sweat from his forehead.

  “Are you sure it’s safe to sit here?”

  “It is for now. They’re used to people running and hiding from them, they’d never think that I would sit and watch them from across the street.”

  “Why are we watching them?”

  “I’m gathering info. I now know what Richie Sullivan’s crew looks like. I also know that they’re stupid enough to run in a pack instead of spreading out. If I had stayed at the bar, I could have cut them all down as they entered the club.”

  “This guy, Richie, did you kill him?”

  “I shot him in the hand when he pulled a gun. He’ll live... for now.”

  Tim Jackson squirmed in his seat.

  “How many people have you killed?”

  “I don’t count.”

  “When you take a contract, will you kill anyone? I mean, if a guy wanted his wife dead so he could collect her life insurance, would you do it?”

  “I don’t take domestic contracts. The people I kill are all guilty of something, even if that something is just bad judgment.”

  “Does it ever bother you, the killing?”

  Tanner placed his cup down atop the table and stared into Tim’s eyes.

  “We’re not that different, it’s just that I have a lower threshold than you do.”

  Tim swallowed once, as Tanner’s gazed unnerved him.

  “Lower threshold?”

  “You would kill to protect someone you love, or to save your own life. With me, the threshold is lower. I’ll kill for money.”

  Tim broke eye contact and Tanner went back to watching the club.

  “But it’s not just money though, is it?” Tim said. “You don’t kill for money any more than I hack into accounts and steal for money. It’s more about what the money buys, the freedom, the time to live and not just slave away at some job. And it’s also about being who you are. I’m a hacker because I’m good at it and I love doing it, love figuring my way around security measures and firewalls, and you’re a killer for the same reasons I’d guess.”

  Tanner said nothing but gave a slight nod.

  Tim gave the subject more thought and asked a question.

  “I justify what I do because I only steal from large institutions and I guess your justification is that you only kill the guilty, am I right?”

  “Somewhat, but everyone dies sooner or later, whether they cross my path or not. It’s inevitable.”

  Outside the window, an ambulance arrived and Richie Sullivan came out of the club surrounded by his crew. They were young guys who had the cynical and cocky look that all inexperienced thugs wore.

  Tim wiped more sweat off his brow.

  “There are six guys there; you can really kill them all?”

  “I will, and then they’ll send more and they’ll die too.”

  “But they’ll get tougher and tougher?”

  “Yeah, and while I’m keeping them busy, you’ll get what we need.”

  “What if I can’t break their encryption?”

  “Eventually, they’ll find you and kill you.”

  “And you?”

  Tanner drained his coffee cup and when he sat it down, he locked eyes with Tim again.

  “If I have to, I’ll just keep killing them, Johnny R, Frank Richards and whoever comes after that. I’ll just keep killing them until I kill them all.”

  “Or until they kill you?”

  “Or that, yes,”

  “I’ll break that encryption, Tanner, somehow.”

  “That would be best,” Tanner said, and signaled the waiter for more coffee.

  CHAPTER 10 - I’m not normal?

  Al Trent answered the phone on Frank Richards’ desk, said, “Send him up,” and placed
the receiver back in its cradle.

  “Johnny R is here.”

  “Meet him at the freight elevator and escort him here, but only him, if he has any of his toughs with him, make sure they wait by the elevator.”

  “Yes sir and would you like me to sit in on the meeting?”

  “Of course, and from now on, you’ll be the only one interacting with him. I shouldn’t be taking this meeting at all, but I want to make it very clear that Tanner must be handled quickly.”

  Trent went off to greet Johnny R and found him standing with a fat man wearing a bad suit, who Trent knew was his driver.

  Trent hated Johnny R, and for the simple reason that Madison Richards had once looked at a photo of the thug on the cover of a weekly news magazine, and mentioned that she thought he was “hot”.

  She had never said such a thing about the nerdy Trent, and so Trent hated Johnny R. He also loved Madison Richards, who he had known since childhood, but Madison did not return his feelings.

  Johnny R had recognized Trent’s animosity towards him, but normally ignored it. To Johnny, Trent was just a corporate lackey and nothing more, someone beneath his notice.

  Johnny Rossetti, Johnny R, stood a head taller than his late uncle, Al Rossetti, and Johnny was also slim, while his uncle had been rotund. A handsome man who tended to dress well, Johnny R had become a favorite subject of news photographers, and although he would never admit it, he liked seeing his picture in the paper.

  He’d been arrested more than once but had only done time as a juvenile offender, and at thirty-six, he was in a position of power where he never had to dirty his hands again.

  Johnny R was the new Underboss of the Giacconi Crime Family, a position that placed him only one rung below its leader, Don Sam Giacconi. But Sam Giacconi was elderly and thought to be senile, leaving Johnny R as the family’s perceived leader.

  However, that was the old hierarchy, in the new hierarchy of The Conglomerate, Johnny R was mid-level at best.

  In The Conglomerate, prissy college boys such as Al Trent were considered his equal, while Blue Bloods like Frank Richards thought themselves his superior.

  Frank Richards, who had placed a contract on Johnny’s Uncle Al and started the whole Tanner mess in the first place. That hit had been sanctioned and later rescinded, but Johnny R had a long memory and someday he would pay Richards back, someday, but for now, he’d play the game.

  Trent pointed at the driver.

  “He’ll have to wait here.”

  Johnny turned to his man.

  “Stay here, Mario, this shouldn’t take long.”

  “You got it, Boss.”

  As they walked to Richards’ office, Johnny voiced his displeasure at being treated second class.

  “I don’t like this freight elevator shit. Richards doesn’t think I’m good enough for the front door?”

  “He doesn’t want anyone snapping a picture of you entering the building like a normal person.”

  “What? I’m not normal?”

  “No, you’re a petty street thug and Mr. Richards can’t be associated with you in public.”

  Johnny smiled.

  “Petty street thug? Are you trying to hurt my feelings, kid?”

  “I just call them as I see them.”

  They reached the office and went in past an empty receptionist desk. The woman who sat there was given an unexpected break from her duties and sent down to the building’s commissary.

  Johnny R shook Richards’ offered hand and sat to the right of Al Trent, as the two of them settled into leather wing chairs in front of Richards’ desk.

  After brushing a hand across a wrinkle of his blue Armani suit, Johnny R started things off.

  “I guess you heard Tanner’s message or we wouldn’t be meeting.”

  Richards curled his upper lip in a gesture of disgust.

  “Tanner is insane, delusional, or both. I don’t know what he hoped to gain by coming out of hiding and issuing that ridiculous declaration of war, but now that he’s back in New York, I expect him to be handled within the week.”

  “My man, Joe Pullo, he tells me that it’s no joke. He says if Tanner said he’s coming for us, then that’s exactly what he means to do.”

  “This Pullo, does he know Tanner well?”

  “Not well, no one knows Tanner well, but he’s known him longer than anyone.”

  Al Trent spoke up and asked a question.

  “What’s Tanner’s first name?”

  “Even Pullo doesn’t know that. He says Tanner has always gone by that name alone and he also says that the man has never had a woman that he cared about, or at least no one he’d risk himself over.”

  “How reliable is this man, Pullo?” Richards asked Johnny R, but was answered by Trent.

  “He and his men handled that labor dispute in North Carolina last week, sir, along with a number of other things.”

  Richards nodded.

  “Ah, that man, yes, he seems more than competent. Will he be going after Tanner?”

  “Yeah, him and everyone else,” Johnny said. “Tanner will be hunted down and killed like the dog he is. The word has been put out to every hooker, junkie, dealer and bookie there is that Tanner is worth money to whoever fingers him. If he rents a room, buys a drink, or takes a cab, we’ll hear about it, and God help the bastard if they take him alive, because then I’ll get to him and I’ll make him pay for what he did to my uncle.”

  “I spoke to Tanner in Las Vegas and tried to talk sense into the man, but he insisted on killing your uncle, perhaps it had become personal to him, but I did try to stop it.”

  Johnny R lowered his head and stared at Richards with his coal black eyes.

  “After you ordered it,”

  Richards cleared his throat.

  “Yes, I ordered it, your uncle had been... uncooperative, but we settled things without violence and Tanner should have stepped aside.”

  Johnny R stood.

  “Anything else?”

  “No, but I meant what I said. I want Tanner dead within the week. His type of insubordination might give others ideas.”

  “He’ll be dead soon, count on it.”

  Al Trent escorted Johnny R back to the freight elevator, and when he returned, he leaned in the office doorway.

  “I don’t think Johnny has forgiven you for ordering his uncle’s death, despite the fact that you attempted to stop Tanner.”

  “I realize that,” Richards said.

  “If his animosity persists, maybe we should do something about that.”

  “Perhaps, but with any luck, Tanner will kill him before dying himself.”

  “That would be the best of both worlds,” Trent said.

  Richards grinned.

  “Wouldn’t it though?”

  CHAPTER 11 - They should have stayed for the concert

  That evening found Merle and Earl parked atop stools inside Johnny R’s Midtown strip club, and hoping to learn something they could take back to Sara.

  When Joe Pullo walked in and took a table towards the back, Merle dragged his gaze away from the topless dancers and told the bartender to send Pullo a drink and ask if they could speak with him.

  Once the drink was delivered, Pullo looked over at them with a quizzical expression, but then waved them over to the table.

  Merle sat beside his brother and offered his hand. Joe Pullo left it unshaken and asked a question.

  “What do you two want?”

  “We want to find Tanner, you know, for the reward,” Merle said.

  “You think you can kill Tanner?”

  “We ain’t killers, but we got lucky once back in Vegas and grabbed him after he killed a crew that was hunting him down.”

  Pullo raised an eyebrow as he studied Merle and Earl. His eyebrows were bushy, but at forty-one, his hairline had receded a bit and if you didn’t know what he did for a living, you might guess that he was a college professor, or maybe a doctor, because his eyes held the sharp gleam of high
intelligence.

  “You two grabbed Tanner out in Vegas and you’re still breathing, how did that happen?”

  “We got lucky, but we were also at Rossetti’s house when Tanner hit him and that time we got blown up.”

  Pullo smiled.

  “So let me get this straight, you survived Tanner twice and you’re coming back for more? What, you two got a death wish?”

  Earl shrugged.

  “He’s worth fifty G’s.”

  “You boys got more guts than I’d have guessed, but why come to me? I don’t know where Tanner is.”

  Merle leaned closer and spoke in a low voice.

  “You run the best crew in the city. As soon as he knows where Tanner is, Johnny R will send you out to kill him. Why not let me and Earl tag along? Like I said before, we ain’t killers, but maybe we can sorta herd him your way, and if we help, then we’ll share the reward, whatever you think is fair.”

  Pullo stared at them as he thought things over.

  “Give me your phone number and tell me where I can find you. Once I know where Tanner is, maybe I’ll call.”

  Merle gave Pullo the information and stood up, Earl followed suit and after they said goodbye, they drifted out of the bar.

  They talked about Pullo as they walked along in the gathering dusk and decided to walk through Central Park. With night approaching, people were leaving the park, but there were just as many entering, because there was a free concert going on at the Great Lawn.

  The brothers skirted around it as they headed towards Columbus Avenue, and when they saw that there was no one around, Merle stopped and lit a cigarette.

  Once he had it going, he looked up to find his brother staring at him.

  “Yeah I know I said I quit smoking, but with all the shit going on, they help me relax.”

  Earl pointed behind him.

  “Them cigarettes might kill you someday, but I’m more worried about him.”

  Merle turned, saw the big man in shadows pointing a gun at them, and the cigarette fell from his lips.

  “We ain’t got no money,” Merle said.

  Rafe Green stepped out of the shadows, his gun held at the ready.

  “I don’t want money. I want information and you two are going to tell me everything you know.”