One Hundred Years Of Tanner Read online

  The punks left the office and marched past O’Connell as if they owned the place. O’Connell glanced back inside the office and saw Hershel seated at the desk with his head in his hands.

  The man has a problem, O’Connell thought, and wondered how Sid Hershel would solve it.

  O’Connell left work that evening and strolled across the street to where a row of new homes was being erected.

  The homes were just wooden frames and still lacked flooring, but they all had thick planks laid across the floor beams for the workers to walk on as they were building. O’Connell sat atop one of the planks and let his legs dangle as he waited for his boss to lock up for the night.

  As he sat there, O’Connell smoked his pipe and pondered what Hershel would do. To his way of thinking, Sid Hershel had three choices.

  He could give in to the thugs threatening him, he could involve the police, or he could find help in dealing with the problem.

  When Sid Hershel closed for the day and headed toward the docks, O’Connell was certain that Hershel had chosen to seek help outside the law. He was right, and Hershel was soon huddled in the corner of a bar with two of the largest men O’Connell had ever seen.

  At one point, O’Connell moved closer and was able to catch a snatch of their conversation. He had heard the big men speaking in low tones, and both had German accents.

  “We’ll do it,” said one of the men, while the other had nodded while saying. “They’ll just disappear.”

  A few moments after that, Sid Hershel passed one of the brutes a wad of bills.

  With their business concluded, the men separated as they left the bar.

  O’Connell placed his empty shot glass on the bar and followed the Germans.

  The Germans walked down Maxwell Street, and as they moved along they pointed out the dark faces among the crowds. The Negroes were coming up from the Southern states in greater numbers and that caused concern for many.

  As an Irishman who’d been treated like a minority in his own country, O’Connell wished the Negroes luck in carving out a spot for themselves. He knew what it felt like to be marginalized in the country in which you were born.

  O’Connell saw the Germans move down an alleyway that took them over to a dead-end street. The street was a dead-end because a wooden building had collapsed across it. Given the look of the rubble, the building had tumbled down decades earlier and just never been carted away.

  Everything in the area looked old and vacant, but there was the glow of a fire coming from a boarded-up house.

  O’Connell hung back in the shadows and watched the Germans. The two brutes were fools. They stood out in the open and stared across at the home where the fire glow emanated from. If anyone inside was looking out, they would know their intentions.

  The Germans split up, as one man lumbered up the front steps, while his companion moved toward the back of the home. They had both taken out guns, a pair of stubby revolvers that looked like toys in their massive hands.

  When a loud whistling sound came from the rear of the home, the German on the porch kicked in the front door and entered.

  Shouts came from inside, and O’Connell heard the distinct cadence of cockney among the raised voices. To his surprise, no gunshots echoed in the house, but he did hear a great struggle.

  One of the Germans appeared at the front door. It was the man who had slipped around the rear of the home. His face was red, and his hands were at his own throat, as he attempted in vain to free the wire garrote that was killing him.

  The German was pulled back inside the house as the shouting lessened, then, a foot kicked the front door closed. However, a gap remained between the door and its damaged frame and O’Connell saw a face peeking out at the street.

  O’Connell stayed still, knowing that he was hidden among deep shadows and couldn’t be seen.

  Laughter drifted out of the house as the punks discovered the money Sid Hershel had given the brutes. The laughter was followed by a cry of pain, then a spate of words spoken with a guttural German accent.

  A name was uttered, the name of Sid Hershel.

  O’Connell left the area unseen and headed back the way he’d come, knowing he had an opportunity to make some real money.

  Sid Hershel had only made his problem worse.

  He would be frightened and desperate.

  But that was good, because he’d have more incentive than ever to solve his problem.

  Keane O’Connell could do that for him, for he had a knack for killing.

  4

  Work More Suited For A Man

  As he suspected he would, O’Connell found that Sid Hershel had returned to his place of business to await word from the Germans he’d hired to kill the punks harassing him.

  The shop floor was in darkness, but a light glowed in the office. O’Connell had left a window unlatched earlier so that he’d have a way inside if needed. He used it, edged closer to the office door, and peeked inside.

  Hershel was bent over with his back to the door as he opened a floor safe. O’Connell’s eyes grew wide when he saw the stacks of bills inside. Along with the money was a gun. O’Connell marched inside the office just as Hershel was reaching for the weapon.

  At the sound of his footsteps, Hershel squawked in fear and grabbed for the revolver. O’Connell grabbed his boss’s hand as it came around holding the weapon. A slight bit of pressure on a nerve at Hershel’s wrist caused him to release the gun, and it tumbled onto the top of the desk.

  O’Connell claimed the gun with one hand, even as he shoved Sid Hershel into his office chair.

  The look of fear on Hershel’s face changed into one of recognition, and he pointed at O’Connell.

  “You work for me.”

  “I did, but I won’t after tonight.”

  Hershel stared at O’Connell, then shook his head.

  “I don’t remember your name.”

  “A man like you wouldn’t. You treat your workers like shit.”

  Hershel’s face reddened in anger.

  “I gave you and the other men jobs, and I pay well too.”

  “You pay no more than you have to, which is fine, but it’s still a pittance.”

  Hershel glanced back at his open safe.

  “Is that why you’re robbing me?”

  “I’m no thief, but I have killed before, and I’ll kill again, but it will cost you dearly.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Those Germans you hired are dead, Hershel. The four punks you sent them to kill were too much for them.”

  Sid Hershel’s face went white at that news, and he trembled. He reached into a bottom drawer. O’Connell brought the gun up, expecting to see Hershel bring out another weapon, but instead, it was a glass, along with a brown bottle of whiskey named Old Underoof.

  Sid Hershel downed half a glass of the liquor then hung his head in despair.

  “They’ll kill me.”

  “They will,” O’Connell agreed. “If they ever get the chance, but as I said, I’ll kill them for you.”

  “You know about the Germans, if so, then you must have seen how big they were. If they couldn’t defeat those other four men, what chance have you got?”

  “Size doesn’t have a damn thing to do with killing. Anyway, what do you have to lose? If I fail to kill them, you’re dead. If you don’t hire me, you’re just as dead.”

  “I could go to the police.”

  “You could at that, and then those punks would tell them how you hired the Germans to kill them. The coppers would lock you up, and a man like you wouldn’t last for long in prison.”

  Sid Hershel’s eyes flicked toward the safe again.

  “You want all my money? That would put me out of business.”

  “Why do you still have the money at all? Didn’t those hoodlums want it?”

  Hershel sighed.

  “They’re not as stupid as they look, at least, the English one isn’t. They want me to sign over most of the business to t
hem. They’ve already gotten the shoemaker down the street to agree to it.”

  “A long-term thinker our boy is, eh? Too bad for him he’s running out of time.”

  “You’ll really kill them?”

  “Yes, but I’ll want three-hundred apiece for killing them.”

  “That’s more than I would pay you in a year.”

  “True, but I no longer work in the leather goods trade. Killing these men will be just the start.”

  “You’re going to become a hired killer?”

  “It’s work more suited for a man than spending my life in this fetid place.”

  Sid Hershel wiped his sweaty brow with a handkerchief.

  “In this city, with the crime we have, you’ll have no problem finding work.”

  Hershel paid O’Connell his money and O’Connell gave the man some advice.

  “Do you have a wife, children?”

  “No.”

  “Then find a hotel and stay there tonight.”

  “How will I know you’ve killed them?”

  “I’ll leave them out in the open to be found. Their deaths should make the morning paper.”

  As O’Connell was leaving, Hershel called to him.

  “You’re a Tanner, right?”

  “You mean my name?”

  “I only know you people by the jobs you do for me, and you’re one of the leather tanners.”

  O’Connell stared at Hershel. The man had been paying him off the books, but one would think he would have bothered to learn his name. Meanwhile, his fellow workers never even spoke to him, as they considered him an outsider.

  Hershel didn’t know who he was, and O’Connell saw no reason to enlighten him. If the man ever talked about the killings, he’d have no true name to give anyone.

  “Call me Tanner.”

  “That’s not really your name, is it?” Hershel asked.

  “It is now,” O’Connell said.

  Sid Hershel grabbed his coat.

  “I’ll walk out with you, just in case those men show up.”

  O’Connell escorted Hershel four blocks away to a cheap hotel. Afterward, he went off into the night to kill four men.

  Keane O’Connell didn’t know it at the time, but he was about to spawn a legend.

  5

  Business To Settle

  WYOMING, PRESENT DAY

  After everyone at Spenser’s house had eaten their meal of grilled meat and salad, they sat around a picnic table and talked.

  When there was a lull in the conversation, Spenser broke the news.

  “I know this was supposed to be a vacation for all of us, but I have to work tomorrow, and I’m hoping you boys will lend me a hand.”

  Tanner and Romeo perked up, as they sat straighter and set down their beer bottles.

  “If you need help, it must be serious,” Tanner said.

  “It’s not that, but I need three people guarded while I take care of business elsewhere. Let me explain.”

  Spenser went on to tell them about a former client named Andrea Jackson.

  Andrea was the wife of Calvin Jackson, who went by the nickname, Tricks. Tricks and his two partners, who were brothers, sold heroin.

  Tricks was a born liar who had Andrea believing he was a legitimate businessman. Andrea only learned the truth when Tricks made a deal with the Feds to save himself and set up his partners, Daryl and Kevin Greene.

  The Greene brothers went to prison, Andrea filed for divorce, but then, she was being threatened by a relative of the Greene brothers, Hakeem Robertson. Hakeem took Andrea and her two children hostage and promised to kill them if Tricks didn’t give himself up as a trade.

  Not only did Tricks not sacrifice himself, but he ran, and didn’t even bother to call the police. He feared that involving the police might endanger the plea agreement he’d made. Tricks was on probation for ten years, and if the authorities thought he was involved with a thug like Hakeem Robertson, he believed they might send him to jail.

  Fortunately, Andrea had contacted Spenser through a mutual acquaintance after fearing that someone was stalking her. Spenser handled Hakeem, and Andrea sent the despicable Tricks out of her and her children’s lives for good.

  “Daryl and Kevin Greene are being paroled tomorrow. From what I know about them, they’ll go straight for Tricks and kill him,” Spenser said.

  “What’s the problem with that?” Tanner asked.

  “Nothing, as far as I’m concerned,” Spenser said. “But Andrea contacted me and asked me to keep him safe. She’ll never let him back in her life, but he is the father of her children.”

  “What do you want us to do while you’re saving the dirtbag?” Romeo asked.

  “I want you to watch over Andrea and her children. Tricks was living where they still live now when the Greene Brothers went to jail. I think they’re smart enough to get his current address, but if they aren’t, then they’ll head for Andrea’s house.”

  “How old are the kids?” Tanner asked.

  Spenser pressed buttons on his phone as he answered.

  “I’m sending you and Romeo photos of Andrea and the children.”

  Tanner picked up his phone and looked at the attachments on Spenser’s email. Andrea Jackson was an attractive woman in her thirties with green eyes and strawberry-blonde hair. Her daughter, Jasmine, was fifteen, beautiful, and had large eyes alight with intelligence. The boy, Ethan, was ten. He wore a devilish grin in his photo.

  Tanner looked up and met Romeo’s eye.

  Romeo nodded at him.

  “I’m in, Bro. It’ll be like the old days.”

  “Not quite,” Spenser said. “I’m almost certain that the Greene brothers will come for Tricks and not his family. Daryl and Kevin Greene made a lot of money selling heroin before they went to prison. I’m sure they hired someone to track Tricks down.”

  “Why isn’t this guy Tricks on the run again?” Romeo asked.

  “Andrea is sure he doesn’t know that the Greene brothers were paroled early. He’s gone downhill over the years, gambled away most of his money, and lives in a trailer on land his grandfather left him. In her email, Andrea wrote that she thought he’d probably drink himself to death someday.”

  “How does she know so much about him if she never wants to see him again?” Tanner asked.

  “Andrea and one of Tricks’ female cousins are still friends. The cousin keeps Andrea informed about Tricks.”

  Nadya pointed at Spenser, then at Tanner.

  “Romeo better come back in one piece.”

  Romeo kissed her.

  “You know I can handle myself, baby.”

  Nadya was cradling Florentina in one arm while reaching for a baby bottle with her free hand. She looked over at Romeo, and there was worry in her gaze.

  Tanner saw the look in her eyes, then spoke to Romeo.

  “You’ve had some trouble lately?”

  Romeo shrugged.

  “There are still a lot of pirates around Indonesia. I ran across a group of them while out on our boat. They were attacking a yacht, so I lent a hand and killed four of the bastards.”

  “Did any of them get away?” Spenser asked.

  “Yeah, but it’s been a few weeks now and nothing’s happened. I guess they never got a good look at my boat.”

  “I’m there if you need me,” Tanner said.

  “We’ll both be there,” Spenser agreed.

  “Thanks, but the truth is, we’re thinking of moving here to the states. Ever since Nadya’s mother passed away, there’s nothing keeping us in Indonesia.”

  “You could move to Wyoming,” Spenser said.

  “Nah, Spenser. Nadya and I love the boat life too much for that, but maybe we’ll wind up in Florida.”

  Later that evening, Tanner went down into the home’s basement and made a few entries in The Book of Tanner. He then leafed through the pages, reading the exploits and observations of the men who came before him. In many ways, the book was a family album.

  The
basement was large. It contained a tool room, a workout room, and several gun safes. There was also a desk, and that was where Tanner sat while writing. He had recorded the activities he had performed while working with Conrad Burke, along with his association with the mysterious government official, Thomas Lawson.

  He had yet to write down the exploits that occurred during his hunt for and killing of Maurice Scallato. That would take time, and interlaced in the telling would be the personal details of his new relationship with Sara.

  Each Tanner was free to write as much or as little about their personal lives as they pleased. The first Tanner, Keane O’Connell, had been forthcoming about the pain of losing his wife and child, along with the death of his brother.

  O’Connell had set the tone for what the book would be, and each subsequent Tanner had likewise shared details about their own lives.

  Placing his thoughts and feelings down on paper was difficult for Tanner, but he thought it was important to do. The Book of Tanner was the only written record of the men who followed in O’Connell’s footsteps.

  Spenser’s entries had helped Tanner understand his mentor in a way he never had before, and he deemed the book, with its wealth of experience and tactics, to be a huge advantage. Every time he wrote in it, he felt honored to do so.

  Spenser came downstairs and slapped Tanner on the back.

  “I like Sara. I think you’ve finally found your match.”

  “She likes you too, Spenser, but I’m not sure Amy is a fan of Sara’s. She seems to be keeping Sara at a distance.”

  “Cody, you know that Amy and Alexa became friends. The breakup was tough on Alexa.”

  “Amy still talks to her?”

  “Once in a while.”

  “How is Alexa doing?”

  “She’s well.”

  Tanner nodded, and when he said nothing else, Spenser laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Tanner asked.

  “You are. Any other man would have wanted to know if Alexa was seeing someone, but not you. I always admired that about you. You have the ability to let things go and not dwell on them.”