I don’t know where else to turn, Tanner. Granddaddy’s house and the land it sits on were passed down to me after my daddy and then my mama died. I live here with my eleven-year-old son, Jake. Anyway, there are some people who want my land and they’re trying to force me off it. The men they hired to scare me off or make me sell are what they call outlaw bikers.
Tanner, I would die before I give up granddaddy’s land, since it’s the only thing I have to pass on to Jake. I don’t know if you’re the type of man who understands what having land can mean to a person, but it’s important. My granddaddy’s father first owned the land and it’s been passed down ever since.
These bikers, excuse my French, but they are some evil fuckers. They’ve ruined my crops and run off my farm hands. I’m afraid of them, afraid of what they’ll do next. The law here says that they can’t do anything unless they catch them in the act. The people they’ve run off are too scared to admit to the police that they’ve been threatened. As much as I hate to think about it, I might have to leave just so I can keep my boy safe. If it was just me, I’d stand my ground, but I have to think of Jake.
Tanner, if you can, please help, although, I’m not sure what a single man could do against a motorcycle club.
Wishing you the best,
Kendra Boudreaux
After reading the letter, Tanner booked a flight to Louisiana.
74
The Client
OXFORDSHIRE, ENGLAND, SEPTEMBER 2003
The boys were driving along a picturesque country road with Cody at the wheel of a rented Land Rover. Their destination was the estate of Mrs. Estelle Cromwell.
Kay had answered her phone the morning after her encounter with Cody and Romeo and told the boys that Mrs. Cromwell had agreed to meet with them.
Cody had gone online and researched the woman. He discovered that Green Wrath had kidnapped and killed Mrs. Cromwell’s husband and their grandson. That certainly gave Mrs. Cromwell a reason to want the leader of Green Wrath dead.
Meanwhile, Romeo had been busy researching Garth Livingston, the man for whom the contract was on. The packet of information Bev had given them was thorough, so Romeo found nothing new on line.
Garth Livingston was a tall man in his late-forties with blond hair and blue eyes. He had always been a criminal, as he had grown up in a family of con artists. While doing a stint in prison on a larceny conviction in his twenties, Livingston became friends with a kidnapper named Clive Cosgrove. Cosgrove was doing life. His last victim had died during the kidnapping from an undiagnosed heart ailment.
Cosgrove had a girlfriend who was involved in an environmental activist group that protested peacefully. The name of the group had been Green Rights. After leaving prison, Livingston looked up Cosgrove’s girlfriend, and the two became lovers.
Livingston joined Green Rights and steered the organization toward darker purposes with a profit motive. Their protests were often used as a weapon to coerce money from builders or farmers.
Fast-forward twenty years and Cosgrove’s girlfriend was a memory, while Livingston had taken control of Green Rights and morphed it into Green Wrath. What had been a peaceful organization dedicated to protecting nature and animals had become a terrorist group. Green Wrath demanded reparations for environmental catastrophes, with a special emphasis on the oil industry.
Those so-called reparations were no less than blackmail. If money wasn’t paid, Green Wrath would cause damage to pipelines or destroy other property. In one case, a pipeline impaired by a bomb spilled more oil than the accident that was being protested.
When the industry banded together and refused to be coerced, Livingston instituted the kidnappings. Twenty-two people had been abducted over the last three years with only about half returned safely. Estelle Cromwell’s husband and grandson were not among the lucky ones released.
* * *
Mrs. Cromwell’s estate was like something out of a movie. The imposing stone structure looked big enough to house a regiment, and there were outbuildings visible as well. One in particular, the home’s garage had twelve bay doors. The space above it was used as a servants’ quarters. It was where the cook, maids, gardener, and chauffeur lived.
The driveway wound for over a mile and offered a view of the nearby pastures, where horses romped amid green hills. Kay had told them that Mr. Cromwell had been old money, but that Estelle Cromwell had grown up middle-class.
“She’s not stuck-up at all, but nice, and very plain-spoken,” was the way Kay described her friend.
* * *
“This place is freakin’ huge,” Romeo said as they neared the home. “Mrs. Cromwell must be mega-rich.”
“I guess the lady will have no problem paying us if we take the contract,” Cody said.
A servant offered to move their car from the large circular driveway in front of the house. Cody declined the offer and kept the keys. In the center of the circle was a fountain spraying water in a choreographed manner.
Standing in front of it, the home appeared even larger and there was a coat of arms above the front door. The home was not only huge, but old. Cody wondered how many generations of Cromwell’s had inhabited the place.
A real-life butler, complete with white wing collar and a black morning coat, escorted them down a hallway and into one of the largest rooms Cody had ever seen. Among its furnishings were several paintings by masters that Cody assumed were genuine.
During their previous travel in Europe, Spenser had schooled Cody and Romeo on art and sculpture. Cody was able to discern high quality art from that of lesser artists.
Toward the front of the room on a sofa long enough to seat eight were Kay Reed and Mrs. Estelle Cromwell. Cody recognized the older woman from photos found on the internet that were taken at the funerals of her husband and grandson.
The woman in those news photos had a haunted look about her, while the woman seated before him wore an air of determination. Mrs. Cromwell had done her mourning and weeping, had buried her dead, now she wanted vengeance. Cody could relate. His family had been killed six years earlier and he believed the man responsible to be dead.
Despite that, he still thirsted for revenge, and he would have it. He would take out his anger and desire for justice on anyone who thought they had the right to kill or control those weaker than them. Becoming a highly-trained and well-paid assassin wasn’t about money for Cody. At its heart, it was about becoming equipped to dish out justice to those who deserved it.
These were not motivations that he could yet articulate to himself, but years hence he would come to know his true urges and express them more. He would risk his life so that innocents would be saved from the predators that stalked them, as he himself was saved by his mentor, Spenser. Being a Tanner was about more than being the best assassin on the planet, it was about striving to always be a better man as well.
* * *
Kay Reed left the sofa and approached the boys. Cody admired her legs and thought the dress she wore was a nice shade of blue that matched her eyes. He and Romeo each wore a black suit with striped ties. Romeo’s shirt was white while Cody’s was more of a cream color.
They looked like a pair of young businessmen about to have a casual meeting with a new client, which is what they were. However, in their business the client was supposed to never be seen or to have an opportunity to see you.
The boys were breaking that rule because they were interested in the contract. It did not hurt things that Mrs. Cromwell was willing to offer a fantastic fee for their services.
“Hello,” Kay said a bit breathlessly. Afterward, she gestured to their host, as she was about to make introductions. Kay laughed when she realized that she didn’t know the boy’s names. “What should we call you?”
Romeo smiled. “I’m Romeo and he’s Xavier.”
“And what are your surnames?” Mrs. Cromwell asked. She had a strong voice which carried with it a tone of authority.
“I’m Xavier Zane, ma’am, and my partn
er’s last name is Slade.”
An amused look crossed Kay Reed’s face as she looked at Romeo.
“Your last name is Slade and you’re an assassin?”
“Fitting, hmm?” Romeo said. His last name wasn’t really Slade, but he had chosen it as an alias because he had thought it amusing as well.
Mrs. Cromwell gestured to a pair of chairs that were positioned across from the sofa she was sitting on. Between the chairs and the sofa was an ornate coffee table with a silver tea set on it, as well as an assortment of pastries.
“Please sit so that we can discuss the matter at hand.”
The boys took the offered seats, but they did so only after repositioning them at an angle, so that they could have a peripheral view of what was behind them.
Kay retook her seat beside Mrs. Cromwell then gestured at the older woman. Estelle Cromwell was sixty, still possessed great beauty, and had dark hair with streaks of white. Like Kay, her eyes were blue but in a lighter shade. Although she had yet to stand, it was obvious that she was tall for a woman.
Regal, Cody thought. The lady looks regal. He wondered if it was the surroundings that gave him that impression of her or something within the woman herself.
“Mrs. Cromwell was upset with me when I told her that I had decided to track you down. I want you to understand that it was not her idea.”
“We get that,” Romeo said. “You’re a reporter, and a damn good one from everything I’ve found on the web about you. I’ve also started reading that book you wrote about Green Wrath. It’s no wonder they want you dead. You didn’t pull any punches.”
“Which of these young men kissed you, Kay?” Mrs. Cromwell asked.
Kay reddened as she nodded toward Cody.
“He was trying to keep me from calling for help.”
“Perhaps, but he could have placed a hand over your mouth just as easily.”
“It wouldn’t have been as much fun,” Cody said.
Mrs. Cromwell stared at him for a moment. She did not appear daunted by the natural intensity of his gaze. When she smiled, it broke the tension in the room.
“As you can guess, this is the first time I’ve ever employed the services of men in your profession. As I do in all things, I wanted to hire the best. When I looked into it, through discreet inquiry of course, I was eventually directed to you gentlemen.”
“Who said we were the best?” Romeo asked.
“Oh, no one said you were at the top of your field, but a few times you were mentioned as headed in that direction. There’s a young man on the continent who is said to be the best, a Sicilian named Maurice Scallato. I was unable to contact him.”
“We’ve heard of the Scallatos,” Cody said. “They have a long tradition and are supposed to be excellent. But we were trained by a man named Tanner. He’s the sixth Tanner and the best assassin in the world. Romeo or I will someday become Tanner Seven.”
A light of recognition dawned in Mrs. Cromwell’s eyes.
“Tanner, yes, that name was mentioned along with Mr. Scallato’s, but my sources were unable to track him down as well.”
“Tanner is already on a contract in the Middle East.”
“And he trained you two, well then, perhaps I’ve found the best assassins after all.”
“You have,” Cody said.
“And will you take the contract? Will you hunt down and kill Garth Livingston?”
“The amount you’re willing to pay is generous,” Cody said. “However, tracking Livingston down could take some time.”
“There’s another thing to consider too,” Romeo said. “We’ll have to cut a path through his people to get to him. You’re not commissioning only one murder. We’ll have to kill others before we reach their main dude, Livingston. If you’re not comfortable with that, let us know.”
Mrs. Cromwell stood up from the sofa. There was a slight tremble noticeable as she balled her hands into fists.
“Mr. Slade, you and your friend here could wipe out every member of Green Wrath and I would not shed a tear, rather, I would rejoice. Kill as many of the vermin as you need to, but I want that rotter Garth Livingston dead, buried, and gone from this world. That bastard killed my husband and my grandson, Chad. Every day Livingston lives is an insult to their memory. The authorities keep telling me that they’ll track him down and arrest him. I don’t want him to be placed in a cell, I want that man in a grave.”
Cody stood and offered Mrs. Cromwell his hand. “We’ll take the contract.”
Mrs. Cromwell opened a fist and took Cody’s hand, then shook Romeo’s hand as well. After she retook her seat, she turned her head and spoke to Kay.
“Tell them what you’ve learned about the man who tried to kill you.”
“It’s not very much I’m afraid. His identification was fake, but I was able to track his address down through a receipt I found in the wallet. Call me tomorrow and I’ll let you know if I uncover anything useful.”
“Kay is an excellent researcher. I suggest you take advantage of her skills. It will aid you in getting to Livingston that much sooner.”
Cody stared at Kay a moment before saying, “All right, we’ll take her help, but I want her to stay on the edge of this, or else she might get hurt.”
“Other than this trip today I’ve been staying in my flat. I’m aware that I came close to dying,” Kay said, then she smiled at Romeo. “Thankfully, I was saved by my hero.”
“There’s one more thing,” Mrs. Cromwell said. “It concerns the members of Green Wrath that you say you’ll need to kill to reach Livingston.”
“Yes?” Cody said.
“I never expect anyone to labor without compensation. I’ll pay you a thousand-pound bonus for every terrorist you kill, however, that requires that you also kill Garth Livingston.”
Romeo laughed. “You might regret making that offer, Mrs. Cromwell, we don’t hold back when we’re on a contract. Anyway, we won’t be keeping count.”
“You won’t need to. This is not America. Violence here is a rarer occurrence. The news media will sensationalize any murders numbering two or more, they’ll also find the idea that someone is targeting terrorists to be noteworthy. I’m sure I’ll be made aware of your progress.”
* * *
The boys left the estate with the address Kay had uncovered. They would use it as a place to start in their quest to find and kill Garth Livingston.
75
The Pact
NORTH DAKOTA, FEBRUARY 1980
Farnsworth strode across the frozen ground of the cemetery while remembering his mentor fondly. It saddened him to be attending the man’s funeral. Tanner Four had taught him most of what he knew and had given his life purpose.
The family all had wet eyes as they prepared to say their final farewells. The old woman who had raised Tanner Four, his grandmother, looked to be in her nineties and must have never dreamed she’d outlive her exceptional grandson. Something in the man’s brain, a busted blood vessel, had killed him. Nature did to Tanner Four what countless targets and adversaries could never do.
Standing beside the old woman was Tanner Four’s niece. Farnsworth knew from his phone conversations with his mentor that his niece had recently lost her husband in a car crash that she herself had been fortunate to survive. If he recalled correctly, her children were both girls, an infant and a toddler.
Although he had never met him before, Farnsworth knew who he was looking at the second he laid eyes on Benjamin Boudreaux. Boudreaux, Tanner Three, was a remarkable man who had fulfilled more contracts than any other Tanner. He also seemed to attract trouble and had to defend himself against a variety of enemies, including the Dixie mob. Those opponents had either died or made peace with the man, but no one had ever defeated him.
Boudreaux was in his sixties with black hair turning white, but he looked as fit as a man half his age. And yet, there was something in the eyes, or rather their haggard look. That look spoke of weakness, of illness, and Farnsworth thought there must b
e a battle being waged inside him. Farnsworth wondered if nature was seeking to claim another Tanner.
When Boudreaux saw him approaching, Farnsworth watched as the man studied him. Each man knew who the other was without being told. They were Tanners; they could tell that they were two of a kind.
“You’re Farnsworth,” Boudreaux said, stated as a fact and not a question.
“I am, and it’s a pleasure and an honor to meet you, Mr. Boudreaux.”
“You can cut out the mister and call me Benjamin.”
“I’ve got a first name, but everyone calls me Farnsworth. Hell, my own mother used to call me Farnsworth.”
Boudreaux nodded in the direction of the grieving family.
“They’re going to need some help, Tanner Four didn’t leave enough behind to see them through.”
“I’ll gladly chip in. It’s the least I can do given everything the man did for me.”
“Good, between the two of us they’ll be all right.”
“Maybe that should be a rule, that we take care of each other’s families.”
“That’s a fine idea. Although I’ll be leaving them enough money when the time comes, I’d like you to look in on my family when I’m gone.”
“You’re ill?”
“I got cancer. They say it will surely kill me someday.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Boudreaux laughed. “So was I.”
Farnsworth offered his hand. “I’ll check in on your family, and I’ll make it one of the rules as well. The Tanners should look out for each other.”
Boudreaux shook his hand, as the reverend appeared ready to begin the service.
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