The Code Within: A Thriller (Trent Turner Series) (22 page)

“No, thanks,” she said. “I’m afraid time is a luxury we don’t have right now.”

Grayson had always dreamed of having a job where the stakes were high, and her hard work and determination had paid off. Whenever the president was involved in an operation, she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t asleep.

“Have you found anything in Nations Bank since POTUS connected us with their CEO?” she asked.

“Not yet. We’ve got three people working on setting things up. Etzy is on his way to Chicago right now, and we’re waiting for him to land before we start poking the bear.”

“That’s a good idea.” Grayson knew Millar had the most experience with the malware, and proceeding without him wasn’t a risk they could afford to take. “How long until he lands?”

“The flight is an hour, and I’m not sure if he’s taken off yet.”

Grayson clasped her hands together. “Damn.” As if the sound had triggered the event, the top right corner of the room’s central wall monitor lit up, and a series of beeps chirped from the overhead speakers. The alert meant another message had been sent to their s4feT account in the hacker forums.

“Incoming,” an analyst said. “It looks like it’s an IP address from Chicago. Whoever it is, they didn’t bother to hide behind a proxy.”

Grayson’s eyes narrowed and she took a deep breath. “Let’s hope we have another break.”

FBI black site, Poolesville, MD

BOTH MEN REGISTERED beeps coming in steady intervals from the alarm system as they entered the house. They had to assume someone would be monitoring the location, and if they had assets in the area, things could turn deadly. The PMD II hovering overhead confirmed there were no heat signatures in the rooms above grade, so they immediately worked their way down the stairs quickly and efficiently.

The three dead bodies they found sprawled out on the floor in the basement were good news. They meant Addy Simpson still had a chance to find the two young girls he was tracking alive. He entered the control room and pulled a wireless device from his tactical vest. He connected the device to corresponding ports on the security surveillance system. The piece of hardware gave The Shop’s hackers direct access to a computer system via the mini drone patrolling overhead. They had nicknamed the connection device AirNet, and it allowed the operatives on the ground to concentrate on staying alive.

“Jack, how are you doing with the prints?” Simpson asked.

“I’m working on the last one. Whoever these guys are, they were taken out nice and tidy.”

Simpson had also noted the execution-style head shots.

A voice came through their comms. “Command Central is in the system. Uploading the hard drives to AirNet now, how copy? Over.”

Simpson looked through the doorway to Turner and said, “That was fast. I didn’t even tell them I had it plugged in yet.” He keyed the button on his comms and responded, “Copy good. We’ll get out of this place before we have any visitors, over.”

Jack nodded as Simpson entered the main room. “I’m done with the prints. Sounds like a plan.”

They spent a little over five minutes inside before heading back to Jack Turner’s pickup truck. Simpson couldn’t remember the last time his heart rate had been this high. He laughed as his friend started the car and tried to catch his breath. Turner hit the gas and took a couple of turns before he parked the truck next to a cornfield.

Simpson sent their GPS location to the flying machine using his tablet and said, “Who says we’re too old for this?”

Jack shook his head and cut off the engine. “You’re a very sick man, Addy. Very sick.”

Simpson turned and smiled at his friend. “I guess I should be worried, since it’s coming from the resident expert on the subject.”

Jack looked over at the tablet Simpson was entering commands into and said, “If we would have had that kind of gear back in the day, there wouldn’t be any bad guys left.”

Simpson laughed. “It’s amazing. They’re going to blow the device I hooked up to the computer as soon as they’re finished uploading the data.”

“That’ll keep things nice and tidy. How long until it’s back?”

“It shouldn’t take long.”

As if on cue, the whirring sound of rotors from the PMD II came to within earshot. They both turned to look through the back window so they could watch it land in the bed of the pickup.

“Crazy,” Jack said.

“And expensive,” Simpson added. “Let’s head to the office. It’ll take a while for them to go through the video, but hopefully they’ll have enough downloaded by the time we get back. Once we’re there, we can plug it in so they can pick up the rest over fiber.”

“What do you think about all of this, Addy?”

“I’m still trying to get my head around what’s happening.”

“Me too, but I’m not talking about that.”

“Matilde?”

“Yeah, Matilde. You’re too close to this. What we did back there…we were lucky it went smoothly. It may have stroked our geriatric egos for five minutes, but it was dangerous. Really dangerous. If that place wasn’t empty, it could have been another story.”

Simpson shrugged. “I can’t argue with that. We need to get Trent on this.”

“We need to talk,” Jack said.

Exxon Station, Rockville, MD

JAKE SANDERS WAS on edge as he paid the cashier for the gas. He had been waiting anxiously with Agent Cathy Moynihan for further instructions. His cell phone rang at the same time he pushed open the glass door to exit. He answered and made his way around to the side of the building, out of view.

“What do you have for me?” he asked.

“I got a team in there, but someone had already broken in,” FBI Director Frank Culder said. “They used some sort of device that trashed the security system.”

“A team? You mean Pagano?”

“No,” Culder said in an annoyed tone. “You’re not my only card I have to play.”

Sanders was pissed. He and Pagano were the only two left on the HVT Squad, and he wondered who else Culder could trust to pull into an operation like this. He began to pace back and forth.

“So, what? We don’t have any images of the fuckers who took our men out?”

“That’s right,” Culder said. “I think it was Simpson. They had to be connected, based on the explosive used alone. It’s not something you can pick up without some serious connections. They must have come back to finish the job by taking out the video.”

Sanders and his team had been asked to investigate Island Industries in the past but had never been able to uncover anything untoward about the company. They were either on the level and providing security for high-profile clients, or simply too good to get caught.

“I don’t know. Sure, they’re advanced, but—”

“Listen, I had my doubts about it at first, but the pieces are falling in place.”

Sanders checked around the corner of the building to make sure Moynihan was still in the car. “How so?”

“I spoke to Reed.”

“The one with the crack-whore daughter?”

“Yes, the heroin addict I told you about,” he corrected. “He said one of their operatives went dark. The timing of it makes him our prime suspect.”

“Did Reed say it was him?”

“No, but he didn’t have to. There’s no doubt their operative was at the airport with Francis Millar. He all but confirmed it. You don’t just buy DARPA-made devices at a shopping mall kiosk. He sounded nervous to me. Like he had something to hide.”

“You’re threatening his daughter. Of course he’ll be nervous.”

“Reed said this operative is too good to make a mistake. It matched up with the MO in Poolesville. It was professional.”

“Yeah. No doubt, but he can’t be in two places at once. He probably wouldn’t have had the time to make it to Dulles.”

Culder hadn’t thought of the timing. “True, but Simpson has more than one operative. We’ll have pictures of this one soon. Be ready to head to Chicago tomorrow. In the meantime, I need you to check out a place in Ashburn.”

“Virginia?”

“Yes. The analysts picked up a cell signal from one of the phones that was near the black site. It looks like it was turned on to make a call. The signal was traced to Cochran Mill Road. A place called the Lucky Stone Quarry.”

“How fitting.”

“Is she still with you?” Culder asked.

“Yeah, she’s in the car.” He looked nervously around the corner again to confirm. “We’re in Rockville, parked at a twenty-four-hour gas station.”

“Good. This quarry, it might be a good place to take care of business once you have everything under control.”

The hair on the back of Sanders’s neck stood up. He had carried out his share of hits, but this was the first time that the director had ordered him to kill a woman. Not only that, but a fellow law enforcement officer. Someone who he knew didn’t deserve to die. He’d had other jobs that didn’t sit well with him for one reason or another, but this one opened up a whole new category of wrong. He believed in everything he did on the HVT Squad, but this time it would be difficult to separate the job from the person. This wouldn’t be a memory that was easily wiped away. This hit would haunt him.

He headed back into the station and picked up some coffee before returning to the car. Moynihan reached across the front seat and opened his door with a push. He gave her an approving nod and followed it up with a smile.

“Thanks,” he said as he passed her a cup.

“No problem. Thank you. Lord knows I need it after tonight. Was that Director Culder?”

He nodded. “About tonight,” he said with a severity she hadn’t seen before. “Culder doesn’t want anything to get out about this operation. At least not yet. It’s way too sensitive.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Jake, three men are dead, and Melody Millar has disappeared. It’s not something you can just sit on. A young girl’s life is at stake.”

Culder was right. She wasn’t about to keep her mouth shut.

“Not permanently, Cathy,” Sanders said in a “No shit, Sherlock” tone. “Culder is concerned. He thinks Poolesville might have been an inside job,” he lied.

She looked at him in disbelief. “What?”

“Exactly. So, at least for now, we need to make sure we keep this under wraps. Our phones, the ones that were on at the house, need to stay off.”

“Gotcha. Wow.” She turned to look out the passenger window and quietly added, “I should really call someone about this. Damn cell phones.”

“What was that?” Sanders asked.

Moynihan took a sip of her coffee. “Never mind,” she said.

The FBI agent fixed her eyes to his, and he had no doubt that she could see right through him. Sanders shifted in his seat, increasingly uncomfortable with the situation.

“I’m not so sure I need this anymore,” she said, placing her coffee into a cup holder in the center console. “That news pretty much woke me right up.”

“Keep drinking,” he said. He gave her an appraising look. “They were able to trace the location of one of the cell phones from the house. We need to go check it out.”

Dulles Airport, Northern Virginia

HIS SHOULDERS TIGHTENED, and he slouched down in his seat. Etzy Millar cringed as he watched the stunning beauty unzip the blue carry-on bag. His eyes widened as she pulled out a couple of small carbon parts for the device Trent Turner had referred to as the PMD. His heart pounded as she reached her hand into the bag once again. Her face wore a look of concern. She stopped short, leaving the item she had just grabbed inside his bag. Her face turned red, and she quickly put everything back and closed the overhead bin.

It was an awkward start to the flight, but everything had settled down for the rest of their trip. The woman had checked her instrument with the flight attendant and never spoke to Turner again. Before they landed, the operative handed Millar a cell phone and an earpiece. He planned to use them to guide him to their hotel from a distance.

The first several moves were preplanned to make sure no connection was made between the two of them. A couple of loops around the airport, a cab ride to a nightclub downtown, out the back door and into a waiting cab. And then things got interesting. Turner had given him a crash course on countersurveillance tactics at his townhouse, but Millar learned to appreciate the craft even more after putting it to use through the city of Chicago.

The two men entered the hotel room. It looked as if its last coat of white paint had been put on decades ago. There were two twin beds made up with well-worn blue bedding, a desk, and a small bathroom.

“That was nuts!” Millar said.

Turner immediately went to close the window shades and said, “It turns out you’re a popular guy.”

“Yeah, I saw him. This spy stuff is pretty cool.”

Turner smiled. “You spotted one, did you?”

Millar gave him a quizzical look.

“Good thing I didn’t give you a heads up about the others,” Turner said. “We wouldn’t want things to get too cool.”

Millar raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “What?”

“Let’s just say it was more than one guy.”

“No way!”

“Way.” Turner shook an angry finger at Millar and squinted one of his eyes. “You, my friend, are being watched by the FBI.”

Millar’s thoughts turned to the news program that showed the FBI processing the crime scene.

“It wasn’t too hard to put it together,” he said. “He’s…” He looked down before continuing somberly. “Well, he was my best friend, so…”

“Sorry about your friend. That’s tough.” The operative met his eyes and said, “They didn’t take you in because they were hoping you’d lead them to something or someone.”

Millar smiled. “Well, I didn’t.”

Turner nodded and said, “No, you didn’t.”

“So what’s the deal with that beauty on the plane? She had eyes on you, man. That was intense.”

“That?” He shrugged his shoulders with a half smile. “Well, it’s complicated.”

“I take it that wasn’t part of your being-anonymous script,” Millar joked.

Turner shook his head and laughed. “You’ve got that right.”

“I figured you two had hooked up before or something, you know?” Millar scratched his arm nervously as he remembered the scene. “When she started pulling stuff out of your bag… Man, that freaked me out. I thought we were busted.”