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SIX
He was awake – he knew that because he could hear sounds, voices. But why couldn´t he see anything?Open yer eyes, Tanner
He wondered where the voice had come from, then realized it was inside his head. His own inner voice, repeating the words over and over like a chant.
Open yer eyes… Open yer eyes
And he tried, even partially succeeded, until the small sliver of light he´d allowed in sent a sharp, searing pain through to the back of his head. With a low moan, he tried to raise his hands to his throbbing head. They wouldn´t move.
Suddenly, the pain didn´t matter and he did open his eyes, staring down at where his hands were bound to the arms of a metal chair.
Shit.
Through the fog still enveloping his brain, he tried to think. Quick images flashed through his mind… the club… Ben… Bertolli…. They all swirled together, refusing to lay in any coherent order. Closing his eyes again, he struggled to put it all together.
He´d been at the club, even talked to Bertolli. Then there was a fight. Was it a fight? A man writhing on the floor. Oh, yeah. Not a fight, not really. A test. A set-up. That´s what he´d told Chris, a set-up.
Chris.
The vision of his team leader forced him to open his eyes again. Where was he? Did Chris know what had happened? Hell, for that matter, did he know what had happened? He´d talked to Chris, and then … nothing. Had he gone to bed? He couldn´t really remember.
Slowly, not moving his head any more than he had to, he looked around, trying to get his bearings. It was a large warehouse, nearly empty. Nope, he definitely didn´t remember this part.
“So, you´re awake at last,” came a voice from the left and just behind him.
“Where..” Now that didn´t sound like his voice. It was more of a croak, really. He tried to moisten dry lips with an even drier tongue and began again. “Where … are we?”
The man chuckled. “Now, Mr. Haines, I wouldn´t think that would be your first concern under the circumstances.”
Haines. Ok, he remembered that part. He was Vincent Haines, undercover agent, posing as someone else… or was it someone else posing as him? Best just to go with what he´d already been given.
“What … whattya want?” he asked, figuring that was as good a place as any to start.
“Just a few minutes of your time, Mr. Haines,” the man replied, moving slowly into his field of vision.
Vin looked up at the man, the light from the high windows making him squint both from the contrast to the dim warehouse and from pain. “Bertolli,” he finally muttered, letting his head drop to a more bearable level.
The other man took note of his discomfort. “Yes, well, I´m terribly sorry about that, but you refused to accompany my associate willingly.”
“Drugged,” Vin whispered through the sandpaper channel he´d once called a throat.
Bertolli laughed quietly. “Well, there is that, but I was referring to the nasty lump on the back of your head.”
Vin winced as he moved his head again, realizing that the man was speaking the truth. His head felt like it had been cracked wide open.
“Why?” he asked.
Bertolli lowered himself to a crouch, bringing his eye level to Tanner´s. “What were you doing in my club, Mr. Haines?”
Tanner struggled for a response. What was he doing there? The guns. Well, you see, Mr. Bertolli, we´ve been tryin´ to get your worthless ass behind bars for quite some time now and we figured goin´ through your club was the best way to do it.
No, that wouldn´t be the smartest answer. Even in his somewhat disoriented state, he knew that.
“Lookin´ … lookin´ for a good time,” he replied thickly, his tongue suddenly too big for his mouth.
Bertolli moved away from him then, but was back in a few minutes with a bottle of water. “Here,” he said, rather impatiently.
He held it to the bound man´s mouth and allowed him two swallows. “I´m afraid the after-effects can be somewhat inconvenient, but relatively short-lived,” he said. Recapping the bottle and setting it aside, he began again. “Now, where were we? Oh yes, my club. You expect me to believe you just wandered in off the streets? You, with your practiced southern drawl and your James Dean attitude?
Vin wanted to laugh at that, if he could only remember how. He almost felt the need to defend his heritage and proclaim that the drawl was real. And the attitude? All mine, thank you very much.
Instead, all he did was paste what he hoped was a convincingly bewildered look on his face. “Don´t understand…” he rasped. The water had helped, but speech still seemed like too much effort.
“I think you understand all too well, Mr. Haines,” Bertolli replied. “Or shall I call you Mr. Tanner.”
Uh oh. Now he knew that couldn´t be good. If Bertolli knew his real name, then he knew damned well what he was doing at The Silver Pagoda. Best thing to do now was stall. Chris and the others would come for him.
Chris.
His mind had cleared enough to remember his conversation with Chris. The one he hoped wouldn´t be their last. He hadn´t even told him he loved him. He´d mumbled a trite ‘me too´ and left it at that. Granted, he´d been a little out of sorts, tied up in knots over Bertolli and Collings and what he suspected was Chris´ unwillingness to see anything but what he wanted to see in his former colleague.
He´d thought he´d have more time. Time to set it right. Time to say ‘I love you, too, Chris´. He felt it. He always felt it. Why the Hell hadn´t he just said it? He´d probably said it a million times by now. Why hadn´t he said it when it really mattered? When it might have been his last chance?
No. He wouldn´t think that way. He couldn´t. Chris would come for him. He knew that with a certainty he couldn´t even explain.
But would it be too late? When Chris found him - and he would find him - would it be in a dumpster with his throat slit and the back of his head blown out?
Maybe. If you don´t get your shit together and stall for some time, here, Tanner.
That little voice of his was at it again and he was grateful. Pulling his thoughts back to the here and now, he asked simply. “What do you want from me?”
“Well, that is an interesting question now, isn´t it?” Bertolli mused. “As Vincent Haines, I was interested in hiring you to do a little work for me. You passed our little test at the club with flying colours. Of course, had I known you´d had such extensive, professional training, I wouldn´t have bothered. Could have spared poor Tony some discomfort.”
Vin had to hide a smirk. He knew it had been a set-up.
Bertolli continued. “As Vin Tanner, on the other hand, my choices are somewhat limited. Can´t exactly hire you now, can I? And I certainly can´t let you just walk out of here so you can tell your ATF friends about our little meeting. I don´t imagine that would sit well with them. Threatening a Federal officer, and all. I understand they frown on that sort of thing.”
Vin raised his eyes to his captor but said nothing.
“So, I fear my only recourse is to make sure no one ever knows about our little rendezvous here.”
Vin didn´t like the sound of that. But he wasn´t about to reveal anything to the man who held him captive. “Coulda just killed me at the hotel,” he pointed out stoically.
“Yes, I could have,” Bertolli concurred. “But my associate wanted me to bring you here. Besides, if I´d kill you outright, then you would have served no purpose at all. This way, at least I can find out how much the ATF knows first. What exactly do they have on me, Mr. Tanner, in the way of actual evidence?”
Vin smirked. “Fuck you,” his only response.
Bertolli sighed. “I can´t say I´m surprised, Tanner. Though I am somewhat disappointed. You see, you could make it a whole lot easier on both of us if you just tell me what I want to know. What do they have?”
“I´ll tell you this,” Vin retorted. “You kill me and they´ll have a whole lot more.”
Bertolli laughed outright then. “You think they´ll be able to pin this on me? Really, Mr. Tanner, I´m hurt that you don´t give me more credit. You see, your death wasn´t an act of retribution or even to ensure your silence, for that matter. I´m afraid it was more like a .. what do you call it? Oh yes, a crime of passion. Leading on poor Mr. Wallace like you did, then spurning his advances.”
What the Hell is he talking about? Who´s Mr. Wallace? Wait… the older guy in the bar. But what did he have to do with any of this? Think, Tanner, think!
Bertolli saved him the trouble. “You see, there are several witnesses who saw you together last night. When they find your body in the vicinity of his house, and the clothing you wore last night strewn around his bedroom, well, it´s not going to take the combined efforts of the FBI and the ATF to figure it out, is it? A grade school hall monitor would be able to solve that case.”
He´s insane.
“You´re insane,” Vin repeated the words screaming in his head.
“Hardly,” he chuckled. “I haven´t managed to avoid jail time by being anything but meticulous in my planning. Mr. Wallace has been a regular customer of mine for quite some time, and, as I´m sure you´re aware, I pride myself on getting to know my patrons. Handing out those cards like he does, it wasn´t hard to find his address. And having you followed to your hotel ensured us ample evidence to plant there.” He allowed a moment for all he´d said to register with his captive, smiling slightly as the colour drained from the Texan´s face. “But, before we get to that part in the program, I need to know exactly what you know. Until recently you were satisfied that The Silver Pagoda had nothing to do with my other business ventures. The very fact that you showed up at this crucial point in time tells me that somebody tipped you off. As you can well understand, I need to know who it was.”
“I ain´t tellin´ you fuck all,” Vin spat.
Bertolli only sighed. “Very well, Mr. Tanner. We can do this the hard way if you insist.” He motioned to an area behind Vin and the bound man tried to turn. It didn´t prove necessary, however, as the large figure moved into his field of vision. Instant recognition dawned as he found himself staring at the large man from the bar.
Tony. Wasn´t that what Bertolli had called him?
Fuck.
He wasn´t going to get out of this one unscathed, that pretty much went without saying. All he could hope now was for Chris and the others to find him before Gigantor finished the job.
As the first punch landed, a reeling blow to his midsection, he wondered if he´d be able to hold out that long.