Tanner- Year One Read online

  TANNER: YEAR ONE

  Remington Kane

  Contents

  Introduction

  Join My Inner Circle

  Acknowledgments

  1. The Grave You Dig May Be Your Own

  2. A Friendly Visit To The Morgue

  3. A Wolf Among Sheep

  4. Quick On The Draw

  5. Tricks And Memories

  6. Contract Accepted

  7. Stop The Truck!

  8. Swing, Batter Batter, Swing

  9. Thanks But No Thanks

  10. Say Goodnight, Gracie

  11. Nowhere

  12. The Hole

  13. Suspicious

  14. Naught

  15. Proof

  16. A Bath And A Good Meal

  17. Point Taken

  18. The Goddess Commands

  19. The Awful Truth

  20. Stripped Of Rank

  21. Dude, Where’s My Car?

  22. With Friends Like These…

  23. Stop By To Say Hello

  24. Testing, 1, 2, 3,

  25. Fight For Your Life

  26. Surprise, Surprise, Surprise

  27. Alliances

  28. Of All The Nerve

  29. Pushing His Luck

  30. Let The Dead Bury The Dead

  31. Weekend At Sullivan’s

  32. Silence Is Golden

  33. Order From Chaos

  34. Someone Wants To Talk To You

  TANNER RETURNS!

  Afterword

  Join My Inner Circle

  Bibliography

  Make Contact

  Introduction

  TANNER: YEAR ONE

  Young Tanner Seven takes a contract on the leader of a militia group that had a lethal run-in with members of the New York mob. Joe Pullo joins Tanner as they hunt down the man and his followers. As he grows closer to his target, Tanner discovers that there’s more at stake than the fulfilling of a contract.

  Join My Inner Circle

  REMINGTON KANE’S INNER CIRCLE

  GET FREE BOOKS & SHORT STORIES, INCLUDING THE TANNER NOVEL SLAY BELLS and THE TAKEN! ALPHABET SERIES.

  Acknowledgments

  I write for you.

  —REMINGTON KANE

  1

  The Grave You Dig May Be Your Own

  JULY 2004

  Tanner clamped one hand over the mouth of Truman Smith as his other hand was busy stabbing Smith in the back. Truman had just picked the lock on a rear door that led into an apartment building in lower Manhattan.

  Once inside, Truman would have taken the back staircase to the third-floor residence of a young woman named Tonya Aaronson. When Truman left the apartment, Miss Aaronson would have been dead or injured.

  Truman Smith had raped Tonya days earlier. During the struggle, Tonya had torn the ski mask from Truman’s face. Later, she picked him out of a line-up. The marks her nails left on his cheek were still red and swollen beneath his mop of shaggy brown hair.

  Truman’s lawyer argued successfully that the line-up was unfair to his client because the other men bore no marks on their faces. A judge agreed and the rapist was placed back on the streets.

  One of Truman’s earlier victims was seated in court that day. She was the seventeen-year-old daughter of a lawyer connected to the mob. Although the girl had never seen Truman’s face during her attack, she had heard his voice as he taunted her and called her vile names. She would never forget that voice and had heard it again when Truman had spoken in court.

  That was when Tanner was called in to administer real justice. He tracked Truman down at his apartment in the afternoon, then became curious about the man’s movements. He had watched Truman steal a van from the garage of a home where newspapers were piled up on the doorstep.

  The van’s owner was off somewhere, likely on a vacation, and had forgotten to cancel his newspaper delivery. It was safe to assume the van’s absence wouldn’t be noticed right away.

  Tanner wondered why Truman would need to steal a van and decided to watch him for a while. On a trip to a warehouse store that sold hardware and lumber, Truman purchased a shovel, duct tape, and heavy plastic sheeting, along with six bottles of drain cleaner, which contained high levels of lye.

  Tanner didn’t think Truman planned to take up gardening, even if it was summer. However, he was certain that the rapist intended to plant something, or rather, someone. Tonya Aaronson, the sole eyewitness against him, would have been that unfortunate someone.

  Truman’s struggling grew weaker by the time Tanner had driven the knife into his back for a fifth time. The van was near the rear door of the apartment house, parked in the alley with its sliding side door sitting open. Tanner dragged Truman’s moaning form over to it and dumped him onto the plastic which Truman had earlier spread out on the floor of the van. Pre-cut lengths of duct tape were attached by one end to the van’s side wall; Tanner used them to bind Truman and placed the final strip over his mouth.

  As their eyes met in the weak light given off by the single bulb lighting the alley, Tanner saw the amazement in Truman’s eyes. The man realized he was being treated the way he’d intended to handle his victim. Tanner shut the door in Truman’s face and walked around to climb behind the wheel of the van. He intended to give Truman the fate he’d planned for Tonya Aaronson.

  After leaving the hardware store earlier, Tanner had followed Truman to a row of two-story homes destined to be demolished by the city. A fire had broken out four months earlier due to a faulty toaster oven. By the time the fire department got control of the blaze, flames had swept through six row homes. No one had died in the fire, since most of the residents were at work, but the families had been displaced.

  Behind one of those homes, Truman had dug a shallow grave using the shovel he’d purchased less than an hour earlier. The grave had been intended for his victim. Tanner found it more fitting that Truman fill it instead.

  Although he was still alive when Tanner dragged him from the back of the van, Truman was only minutes from death. He was bleeding internally and suffering from the pain of his wounds. However, he was still aware enough to realize where he was. Seeing the shallow grave birthed terror in the rapist’s eyes.

  Tanner granted Truman mercy he wasn’t sure the man would have given to Tonya Aaronson. He made certain that Truman was dead before trundling him into the hole and filling it in.

  Afterward, Tanner drove the van toward midtown, his work completed, the contract fulfilled.

  Inside a Brooklyn bar four men were ogling an attractive blonde who had entered and spoken to a friend that was tending bar. The four were former military, trained to fight, and had been drinking for an hour. Their voices hinted that they were not native to the city, but then, that was true of many in New York.

  One of the men left their booth and went over to talk to the blonde, who was wearing white shorts, a red halter top, and a wedding band. Her admirer was on the verge of being drunk, was young, and full of confidence.

  When the woman blew off his advances, he became belligerent and began insulting her. After she gave the man the finger, he slapped her.

  Two men shot to their feet. One was a co-owner of the bar, named Al Bellini, while the other was his friend, Carmine. Both men were low-level members of the Giacconi crime family.

  Al shoved the man who had struck the woman and ordered him to leave the bar. The punk’s three friends joined the scene. The largest of them, a man with dark red hair, gave Al a shove. Carmine moved to defend his friend as others inside the bar closed in. The redheaded thug brought out a knife and used it on Al, then, Carmine brought out a gun.

  When it was over, two men were lying dead on the barroom floor. One of them was the punk who had slapped the woman, the othe
r was Al Bellini.

  The three who had been with the punk who’d started the brawl had fled the bar and driven away in a green sedan with out of state plates. They left behind their friend and the dead body of Al Bellini.

  Bellini was well-liked and had many friends. One of them was a mobster named Joe Pullo.

  2

  A Friendly Visit To The Morgue

  JULY 2004

  Tanner entered a diner in the Chelsea section of Manhattan and found that Joe Pullo had arrived early for their meeting. Pullo was wearing a dark summer-weight suit with a cream-colored shirt and no tie. Tanner was dressed in jeans and a dark-green, long-sleeve tee. The shirt was baggy, to obscure the outline of the gun strapped to his hip.

  Not long after Tanner’s arrival in the city, he and Joe Pullo had gone off to kill a man named Carlo Conti. Things hadn’t gone as planned but they had gotten to know each other and liked what they saw.

  Since becoming a Tanner, the seventh Tanner, Cody had at times felt lonely and he often missed Romeo. Spenser had told him that there would be a period of adjustment, more so for Cody, since he and Romeo had been inseparable for years.

  While it would be a stretch to say that he and Joe Pullo were friends, Tanner had respect for the man, and the feeling was mutual. In a city teeming with millions of strangers, it was nice to see a familiar face.

  As Tanner settled across from Pullo at a table, the mob soldier slid over an envelope. It was the balance of Tanner’s payment for killing Truman Smith.

  Tanner pocketed the envelope without looking inside, then he told the waitress that he would have coffee. As the woman walked away, Tanner inspected Pullo.

  “You look tired, long night?”

  “I was woken early with bad news, then couldn’t fall back to sleep. A friend of mine was killed inside his bar.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Joe.”

  The waitress came with Tanner’s coffee, refreshed Pullo’s cup, then asked for their orders. Tanner ordered steak and eggs, but Pullo only wanted toast. When the waitress left, Pullo leaned forward.

  “There’s something I want you to help me with.”

  “Another contract?”

  “Yeah, in a way, but I’ll be doing the killing.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I want the guy that knifed Al, but I don’t know how to find him, and you’re good at tracking people down. You tracked down Vincenzo Rigoletto when no one else could.”

  “Maybe I got lucky.”

  “Are you saying you won’t help me? This isn’t a favor, Tanner. I’ll pay you, but I want to be the one who plants Al’s killer.”

  “Tell me everything you know, and I’ll see if I can help.”

  Pullo smiled. “Great, and how much do you want?”

  Tanner waved away the talk of money. “I’ll set a price if I’m able to help you.”

  Pullo frowned at that, then shrugged. “I guess that will work.”

  “Tell me what happened,” Tanner said.

  Tanner was still eating when Pullo finished.

  “I know it’s not a lot to go on since the bastard that slapped the girl had no I.D. on him, but I thought maybe you knew a way to figure out who he was.”

  “The Giacconi family has a lot of pull,” Tanner said. “Do you think you could get a look at the dead man’s belongings?”

  Pullo ran a hand over his chin as he thought that over.

  “Maybe, if I made a few calls.”

  “The quicker the better. With luck, those things are still at the morgue. They’ll be easier to get to there than they would be once the police placed them in an evidence locker.”

  Pullo stood as he took out his phone. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Tanner watched him go outside to make his calls. After finishing his meal, Tanner asked for more coffee. The diner served excellent coffee and the food was good as well. Tanner made a mental note to remember the place, which was a short distance from Pullo’s apartment.

  Pullo returned with a smile and tossed money on the table.

  “There’s a guy in the morgue who will let us get a look at the dead man’s things.”

  Tanner stood. “Let’s go.”

  The dead man had been wearing jeans, boots, and a red flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had also been carrying a gun in an ankle holster, but that was taken by the cops at the scene. However, the holster was left behind, and Tanner found it interesting.

  They were in the small break room used by the morgue attendants. The man who’d let them in stood by the door while fidgeting. He was a small man with a pinched and reddened face. The hundred dollars Pullo had given him was still clutched in his right hand.

  “See all this fancy scroll work?” Tanner asked Pullo as he studied the holster. “It’s custom-made and hand-tooled, there’s also a tag inside.”

  Tanner got two fingers on the tag and ripped it free. The morgue attendant let out a cry of distress.

  “I didn’t say you could do that.”

  Tanner sent his intense gaze at the man, who had been walking toward them. The morgue attendant faltered in mid-stride, swallowed hard, and went back to stand near the door.

  Tanner read the tag. “Quality leather goods in Altoona. Maybe the man was from Pennsylvania too.” Tanner walked over to the morgue attendant. “I want to see the body.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I can’t. There are other people in there.”

  “Tell them we’re cops.”

  The man looked them over. “You’re too young to be detectives.”

  Pullo stepped forward. “Then tell them you hurt yourself falling down the stairs.”

  “Huh?”

  “If you don’t let us see that body, I’ll hurt you. You can explain the injuries by telling everyone you fell down the stairs.”

  The man smiled, as if he thought Pullo was telling a joke. When he realized he wasn’t, he turned and opened the door.

  “Let me do the talking.”

  The man’s fears turned out to be unfounded. His colleagues were busy elsewhere, likely out on a call to a fresh homicide scene. It was the height of summer and the soaring heat had tempers flaring in the city. Homicides were on the rise, and not all of them could be attributed to Tanner.

  The attendant slid open a long drawer in a refrigerated cabinet so Tanner could study the body. The man had died from a gunshot wound to the chest and had yet to visit the coroner’s table.

  When Tanner spotted the tattoo on the corpse’s right arm, he took a photo of it with his phone. The design displayed an American eagle clutching a golden assault rifle. The letters LBM were beneath the tattoo in bold ink. Along with the artful illustration was a line of three puckered marks from old bullet wounds on the man’s left thigh. Tanner wondered if perhaps he had been a soldier.

  They left the New York City Mortuary, which was located inside Bellevue Hospital, and headed for the subway.

  “What do you think?” Pullo asked.

  “I’m going to try and identify that tattoo. We can also look into the leather goods shop in Altoona. There’s a customer number on the label.”

  Pullo nodded. “I feel like we’re getting somewhere. This morning I had no idea how to track down three strangers. Guys I know in the Family, I could find them if they ran, but men I’ve never even seen, no way. Why are you so good at tracking people?”

  “I’ve had training in many things, tracking was one of them.”

  “You can’t kill a guy unless you can find him first, huh?”

  “That’s right,” Tanner said.

  3

  A Wolf Among Sheep

  WESTERN PENNSYLVANIA, JULY 2004

  The man who’d killed Al Bellini was named Sullivan. He had hair that was a dark shade of red. He and the other men were members of the Liberty Boys Militia.

  The three returned to their base one fewer than when they’d left it. That did not go unnoticed by the militia’
s leader, Nick Cannon.

  The thirty-five-year-old Cannon hadn’t founded the militia, but he had grown up in it. Cannon’s grandfather, along with three friends had started the Liberty Boys Militia after returning from the Pacific Theater in the 1940’s. What had started as a glorified gun club with four members grew into a community of people who considered themselves survivalists, preppers, and pro-liberty advocates.

  The militia had nearly three-hundred members if you included the children. They were bonded in their aversion for what they considered to be the government’s wrong-headed policies. A fervent love of independence united them as well.

  Unknown to most of the group, their leader was driven by another desire—greed. Nick Cannon had neither the temperament nor intelligence to temper his lust for wealth. For decades the militia survived, and even thrived by the hard work of its members. They had farmed and used their combined ingenuity and skills to keep their small community viable and growing.