The Code Within: A Thriller (Trent Turner Series) (15 page)

“Sure, okay.”

“The other world you know is virtual. Like the US, you’ve got both good and bad, but there’s a lot more of the Wild West out there. You’ve got a whole community of hackers and the like who couldn’t care less about laws, local or international. They’re not worried about how they behave or the systems they destroy. Collateral damage means nothing to them.” He stopped at a red light and again turned to Millar. “It’s easier to wreak unfettered havoc on that which is not real.”

Millar squinted questioningly.

“Let me explain,” Turner said. “Did you ever think about the bots you were deploying? What the consequences could be for the owner of the computer you installed them on?”

“Not really. Well, at least not until all of this happened.”

“Right. It wasn’t real to you. It was an extension of your gamer mentality, and you think it’s only the online world.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“I get it. It’s much easier to detach yourself from the reality of what’s going on when it’s not physical. It’s not something happening right there in front of you.”

Millar thought for a moment and said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Think about it this way, Etzy. If you were forced to watch someone die every time you installed a bot, you’d have a lot more at stake emotionally.”

Millar’s expression showed surprise. “I’ll say.”

“It’s easier to ignore the damage you’re doing when you don’t have to see the results. It’s not too difficult to justify the act. Part of human nature is justifying your actions. Whether it’s rational or not, a human will find a way to justify the things that bring them some sort of gratification.” He kept checking his mirrors to make sure they weren’t being followed. “This society is all about instant gratification. Think about professional athletes who cheat. How they deflect and attempt to minimize what they have done when they’re caught. The common defense is to say everyone else is doping, so it doesn’t meet their personal definition, or whatever their criteria is, for cheating.”

“That’s deep.”

Millar thought about how he had justified installing the bots. It was easy for him to go along with Max. He was helping him learn about hacking, after all. Another upside was that he would pick up some extra cash and have the opportunity to learn more about the botnet. He told himself that was the only way to improve your skills at his level. You needed real-world experience, something that a classroom can’t give you. There was some truth buried in there that made it easy.

Turner continued. “If you’re forced in some way to experience the pain you cause, it’s harder to keep on going with the lie.”

“Yeah, I see what you’re saying,” Etzy admitted.

“There are a lot of people out there who don’t think the way we do, like the typical American. For them, killing someone is only a means to an end. They don’t think much about the act. Death, killing are a big part of life in some parts of the world. Making more dead people out of those who don’t agree with you is simply getting terrorists one step closer to their objective.”

“That’s messed up.”

“That’s the way it is. They’re motivated by the objective. Whether it’s religion, power, revenge, the target is just something that’s in the way. They don’t think of people emotionally, as a person or people with lives, kids, parents.”

Millar thought about the last twenty-four hours and said, “Shit.”

“It’s reality, Etzy, and you’ve landed smack in the middle of it.” He had the hacker’s undivided attention.

“I feel like I’m in a
Twilight Zone
episode, you know. It just doesn’t seem like things could really be…people could really think that way.”

Turner nodded with a laugh that had no humor. “The general public is insulated from what you’ve experienced.” There was a slight pause before he said, “At least for the most part. When something slips through the cracks, things can get ugly.”

The traffic light turned green, and they continued south down Connecticut Avenue.

“Once people get a taste of it, the unfiltered violence, or even a leak that exposes some of the things that are done in attempts to prevent it, they spit it back out. There’s no appetite for doing what needs to be done.” Turner shook his head, and his tone turned sharp. “There is this illusion that the world will simply listen when they say stop, and the greater good will prevail. That attitude develops because of their belief system, or from the reality they know. People only trust what they’ve been exposed to and what people they confide in tell them. It’s human nature.”

“So is that what you do? Provide insulation?”

“I guess you could say that.”

Millar wasn’t completely convinced. “It can’t be that cut-and-dry.”

“Tell that to your friend back at the park.”

His eyes widened as he considered the killer’s relentless nature.

“Do you think he gave a shit about your right to free speech? Your right to privacy?”

Millar shifted in his seat but didn’t respond.

TRENT TURNER PULLED the car over to the side of the road and turned to face Etzy Millar. He sensed he was losing him, and it was imperative that he understand exactly what he’d gotten himself into.

“I’ll try to help you out with this, Etzy,” he said flatly. “The only right that guy back there cared about was the right time to put a bullet through Max Soller’s head without getting caught.” He cocked his head to one side before he continued. “He wanted you dead too, but this time around he needed to keep you alive. At least long enough to find out what damage you might have done to their operation. After that, you were as good as dead.”

The blood drained from Millar’s face.

Turner checked for traffic, pulled back onto Connecticut Avenue and continued driving south. He sensed he had finally gotten through.

He glanced over at Etzy and said, “If it makes you feel any better, he wanted to kill me too.”

“Super,” Millar said unenthusiastically. “At least I’m not alone.”

“Look, I have to tell you like it is. Assuming someone gives a shit about things they don’t is the fastest way to get yourself killed. Keep that in mind. It will come in handy as we navigate through this together.”

He turned to the hacker and saw that including him in future plans seemed to have had the intended effect. Millar’s eyes now held a glimmer of hope.

Turner was done teaching Reality 101 and pulled out his XHD3. “By the way, if you tell the guy we’re about to call my real name, I’m going to have to kill you.” He shot Millar a wink and placed the call.

The phone rang once before Heckler answered. Trent turned on the speaker.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Hey, Heck. I’m here with Etzy. He’s got some information for you.”

“Good to hear. I’ve got some news on the dead guy you left in the hotel room.”

Millar looked over at Turner. The hacker fidgeted in his seat.

“It’s okay, Etzy. He was one of the bad guys,” Turner said with a slight smile.

“Tell me what you know, Etzy,” Heckler said.

Millar explained how he and Max Soller were paid to install the bots and had started to go into the technical details when Turner interrupted. He explained to the hacker that technology wasn’t Heckler’s strong suit, so Millar did his best to offer a low-tech version. Turner liked his handler’s replacement but was starting to get frustrated.

“Heckler, we really need Tak to be the lead on this with Etzy. Is he back yet?”

There was an awkward pause before he answered. “No, Finger, he’s not. The Shop’s got it covered.”

That wasn’t news Turner wanted to hear. Tak was the obvious best choice for the job, and his absence raised serious questions.

“The guy in the hotel was a Russian called Aliaksandr Petrov,” Heckler said over the uncomfortable silence. “Probably no shock to you that he was an assassin.”

“Not really,” Turner said.

“Well, he was a damn good one. You’re lucky you’re still alive.”

Turner thought of his brother. “It depends on how you look at it,” he said bitterly.

“The laptop had some good intel,” Heckler continued. “Petrov didn’t know who hired him. The guy he had looking into it sent him back a few accounts. We were able to find the remnants of an email message in the cache on his computer, and our new friends in Switzerland were happy to help us do a trace.”

It was good to hear his new relationships overseas had already started to pan out.

“Great, what could they tell us?”

“The money originated from a Russian crime family in Chicago. The Kozlov Bratva. It’s run by Pavel Kozlov. He was an up-and-comer in the former Soviet Union, has a lot of ties with the
siloviki
—the politicians from the KGB, GRU, SVR…the guys with the guns and intel.”

Millar chimed in. “You know, the core framework for the bot was written by someone—well, more than one person—but a Cyrillic keyboard was used for a lot of it.”

“Are you sure it was more than one person?” Turner asked.

“Yep. You can tell by the way they wrote their code.”

Turner understood all too well. It was no different than comparing two handwriting styles.

“Off the top of my head, I’d say there were at least six, seven…maybe a couple more,” Millar continued.

“They’ve got money,” Turner said. “The guy in the park was no hacker, and he knew who I was. If they can hire a top assassin and then kill him, that tells us something.”

“The one at the park was definitely the guy who killed Max,” Millar said. “I’ll never forget him for as long as I live.” His tone seemed more relaxed. “Some data was passed through one of the bots we installed last night. The botnet looks like it’s talking to the mother of all banks. The Federal Reserve.”

Heckler laughed, but it was half-hearted. “What, are they going to destroy Wall Street? Madoff and the real-estate collapse already took care of that one.”

Millar shrugged and said, “I don’t know, but they’re up to something.”

“This recession has people scared,” Turner added, realizing the importance of what Millar had said. “Unemployment is at an all-time high. Retirement accounts were demolished. It wouldn’t take much to disrupt things, cause panic, have people lose what little confidence they might have left.”

“True,” Heckler considered. “By the sound of it, I’ll need to send this all the way up the chain.”

Turner knew that could mean problems with The Island, but for the first time since this ordeal began, things looked like they were lining up in his favor. His brother’s killer was dead, and the people who hired him had something big brewing. He would like nothing more than to serve them up a heaping plate of fuck you and have his revenge.

“Like I told you, I’ve never seen anything this advanced,” Millar said.

Turner nodded and said, “Yeah, run it all the way to the top, Heck.”

“Hold on a sec,” Heckler said.

Turner and Millar could hear a phone ringing in the background.

“Okay…yeah…I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he told the caller. “Something’s come up. I have to go now,” Heckler explained.

“Well, it looks like we’re going on a road trip to Chicago,” Turner said to Millar. “They know I’m involved now, and I’m sure they have no idea who I work for. Heckler, I’ll catch up with you later. Let your bagman know I’m going to need him tonight.”

“Sure thing,” he said, and then disconnected the call.

“Bagman?” Etzy questioned.

“Don’t worry about it.”

FBI black site, Poolesville, MD

THE THREE FBI agents jumped up from their card game when the alarm sounded. The surveillance equipment had detected an intruder on the grounds. The older systems had given off false alarms in the past, but technology had advanced to a point with the various sensors—microwave, thermal, active and passive infrared—where it was rare. This was the real deal.

The men gathered around the bank of monitors and read the flashing message that indicated a pressure plate on the perimeter had been triggered. An infrared feed was automatically displayed on the center monitor and locked onto the suspect. The monitor displayed the image of a female slowly making her way toward the house.

“She doesn’t look armed,” Scott Richardson said. “You want to handle this one, Joe?”

“Fuck off.”

“Come on, I think you can take her. She doesn’t look like the type who’d kick a man where it counts,” Richardson said with the grin of a true smartass. He was the senior man there.

Joe shot him a pissed off look. “I’ll never live that down, will I?”

“Nope. And don’t forget your cup.”

The agent headed out the back door, up the stairs and bolted along the side of the house, putting a copse of shrubs between him and the intruder. His eyes had almost adjusted to the darkness by the time she had made her way past his location.

She approached the front window on the left side of the house. He waited patiently to make sure she didn’t have a weapon. Satisfied that she was unarmed, the former football player quickly made his move.

Maria Soller let out a muted scream as she was lifted off the ground and carried toward the house. She started kicking her legs as they headed down the narrow stairwell that led to the basement.

“Put me the fuck down!” she yelled, banging her fists on his back.

The other two agents had formed a welcoming committee at the bottom of the stairs. Both men were already laughing.

“Mom, get out of here!” she yelled as they quickly pulled her into the house.

Joe put her down, and she looked as if she was sizing them up.

“Mom, huh,” Richardson said in a mocking tone. “Ken, go see if Mom’s out there too, will ya?”

“Fuck you!” Maria drilled her knee into Richardson’s crotch.

The other two men laughed heartily as he crumbled into a chair with a groan. His face turned beet red.

“Put that bitch in the room with the other one,” he barked.

Ken nodded toward the alarm that just popped up on the monitors. “I’ll go ahead and check outside for Mommy,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

He stopped at the base of the steps for effect and turned to Richardson. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure I keep the jewels safe. I hear abuse is something that runs in the family.”