The Code Within: A Thriller (Trent Turner Series) (4 page)

TRENT TURNER PULLED into the Inova Fairfax visitors’ parking lot and blasted his horn. “What an idiot,” he said under his breath. The car that had just pulled out nearly clipped his rental car. He scowled at the driver noting he had squeezed himself into a hospital-issue scrub top that was too small.

“Here’s a tip: check the mirror first, pal. Your lack of fashion sense is cutting off the circulation to your brain,” he grumbled with a shake of his head. Bad drivers, poor dressers, and hospitals were all things annoying on different levels.

Emotions he had suppressed for many years hit him all at once. Being anxious was uncharacteristic for the experienced operative, but seeing his family under these circumstances would be difficult for anyone. He scanned the area and didn’t see signs of a welcoming committee from The Island waiting to bring him in. He knew blowing off Addy Simpson’s order to stay in New York would be cause for some serious tension back home. The operative was unsettled by the fact that he hadn’t heard from his handler yet. It was normal to expect a delay, since he wasn’t on an operation, but this time it was different. Trent had sent the code to put himself into stealth mode more than three hours ago. It was something he’d never done before, and his handler knew it would cause some major waves.

The code meant Turner had disabled the ability for The Island to track his movements. He would use aliases that only he knew, and his devices would be masked. Trent Turner would disappear from the radar. His handler, Tak, was the only person who could contact him when he went dark.

He and Tak had hit it off from the second they exchanged call signs, and over the years they had become extremely close. Turner had chosen Goldfinger for his handle. It was an inside joke that reminded him of the drawn-out arguments he had with his father and brother. He liked Sean Connery as James Bond, and they preferred Roger Moore. The instant his handler replied that his call sign would be AVtaK, he knew they would get along just fine.
A View to a Kill
was one of the Bond flicks that starred Moore. It was like a small taste of home.

Trent’s alias morphed into several nicknames that his handler used to lighten up tense situations. Solid Gold, Goldilocks, Golden Boy, Stinky Finger, but as they gained more experience and grew closer together, he finally settled on calling him Finger. Trent ended up shortening his handler’s name to Tak.

They never met in person—protocol wouldn’t allow it—but in a world of evolving communication, the absence of physical contact seemed increasingly normal. For security reasons both men—at least Turner believed Tak was a man—had their voices altered by computer software when they spoke. The program was designed to catalog speech patterns and develop a profile for each individual. The software provided a consistent, normal flow and experience during conversation.

Turner decided the security measures were to protect his handler. Since there was no traceable connection between them, Tak could lead a relatively normal life. He wouldn’t have the threat of a rogue operative hunting him down, or the risk of his identity being revealed under extreme torture.

BOMBTRACK. That was the code that switched Turner into stealth mode. The twist was that nobody at Island Industries or The Shop, the nickname for the company where Tak worked, had any idea the two would still be in contact. Turner knew going underground would be the biggest test yet for their trust.

A trip to the hospital was a risk, but Turner decided there wouldn’t be any alarm bells ringing unless The Island had tried to contact him in the past four hours. Going to visit his brother was too important; it was something he couldn’t pass on.

The operative didn’t know how long it would take to track down the person who executed the hit on his brother, but he knew The Island wouldn’t tolerate a personal operation like this. That was something he’d have to worry about later. He would have to figure out a way to repair the damage when this was over. He knew what he signed up for, what this meant, and realized, if he was accepted back into the fold, there wouldn’t be a welcome mat.

Island Industries, Brooklyn, New York

“HEY, ADDY. ANY word on Trent yet?” Gordon Peterson asked as his boss entered the training facility.

Addy Simpson shook his head and said, “No, not yet. Word sure gets around fast in this place.”

Peterson flashed him a knowing smile. “We’re fast. That’s why you pay us the big bucks,” he said.

Simpson shrugged his shoulders and laughed. “Good point, Gordo.”

His friend had the typical résumé of an Islander: a former Special Forces soldier handpicked by Simpson who specialized in covert operations. The two sailors met when Simpson was a team leader on SEAL Team 6, which had since changed its name to the United States Naval Special Warfare Development Group, or DEVGRU for short.

Simpson went on to earn the rank of vice admiral after his time with the SEALs. He played an integral role with the SEAL team’s move under the United States Naval Special Warfare Command, and became the original commander of the Joint Special Operations Command. He was then appointed to run the CIA, until an incident with an old adversary forced him from his post. It turned out to be an opportunity in disguise, and the resignation saw him start up his private firm, Island Industries.

“You can’t beat yourself up about this,” Peterson said. He could see the concern hanging on Simpson’s face and knew about the death of Turner’s brother. “We all know the risks. Trent knew the risks. I feel like shit about it too,” he admitted, “but it’s not our first tragedy, and it sure as hell won’t be our last.”

Simpson looked his good friend in the eye and said, “I just—”

“Look,” Peterson interrupted. “Beating yourself up about it isn’t going to help anyone. It’s not like you could have pulled him off the operation. We couldn’t have known he was compromised and someone put a hit out there. We did everything we could on our end, Addy.”

They exchanged frustrated looks.

“We did,” Peterson insisted.

Simpson’s thoughts drifted as Peterson worked the console in front of him. The sound of motors echoed through the warehouse-sized space as he reconfigured the three-story kill room for a training exercise. He had a network of contacts that would help him find individuals like Trent Turner. Potential recruits who had a combination of wit, physical talent, and what he referred to as honorable detachment.

The Island sought out young men and women who withdrew or were forced from an otherwise promising life for reasons out of their control. He gave them a unique opportunity, a second chance to realize their full potential. The Island represented a new family structure that the operatives could grow with and trust.

Simpson found Trent Turner in a place that was practically local to The Island. He was nearly finished with his senior year at Yale University. The Event, as Simpson referred to it, needed to be significant enough to detach a person from their family. He would step in and offer new recruits a chance at something that would help them redefine their purpose. They would perform an invaluable service for their country. Connections to people on the outside were severed when Island Industries entered the picture. Trent Turner had become the one exception to that rule.

Before the “event”, he and his brother, Ryan, had been virtually inseparable. There had been some unspoken tension between the two for several weeks, and it was something Trent hadn’t felt in their twenty-two years together. He feared the worst and thought his brother may have gotten into some trouble and was keeping quiet about it to protect him.

The situation had turned out to be much simpler than that. Ryan had kept his relationship with a new girl on campus a secret from his brother. Trent had always been the charmer of the two, and Ryan had wanted the relationship to mature before making an introduction.

April Pearson had been seeing Ryan for a little over a month. She had no idea the love she was falling into was about to take a heart-wrenching turn. It would have been the first time Ryan and April had made love. Her girlfriends had dropped her off at the apartment just after ten-thirty that evening. She had a few Cosmos at a local bar, and the effect of the alcohol had been amplified by constant urging from friends visiting for the weekend. Pearson only knew a few people on campus, so Ryan had become the center of her new universe. She thought it would be fun to surprise him and take the next step, a move that would bring more intimacy into their relationship.

When Trent opened the door to the dorm, he was surprised by the beautiful girl who tackled him onto the couch and had started to unbutton his pants.

“Did Ryan send you here?” Trent asked with a laugh, assuming his brother knew he had been worried.

“You bet he did. He’s the only reason you’re about to get laid on a school night,” she joked. “Now, let’s not waste any time. We wouldn’t want to disappoint Mr. Ryan!”

It wouldn’t have been the first time one of the brothers had sent a sorority girl after the other, but it would be the last. The couple of beers Trent had put down before she arrived had laid any usual questions to rest. When the apartment door swung open unexpectedly a few minutes later, the time that Trent and April had spent together changed everything. Ryan and April shared a look of horror before Ryan’s gaze panned up to Trent. His grin quickly turned to a look of confusion as Ryan sprinted toward him, his fists flying through the air.

Pearson didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark about her new boyfriend’s identical twin. She had no idea Ryan had kept such an incredible secret from her. Life would have turned out much different for all of them had he not.

Initially, the romance between April and Ryan had been shattered, but an unexpected twist of fate brought them back together. In time the couple were able to resume the passion they had left behind that fateful night, but there would always be a scar.

By the time Trent was released from Yale–New Haven Hospital, he had already been tagged by one of Simpson’s men. The doctor had taken his share of late-night calls to put Addy’s operatives back together again, and he had made sure Turner was assigned to him. Trent’s broken jaw from the one-sided brawl with Ryan didn’t do them any favors when it came to the brothers trying to reconcile their differences. Their relationship quickly deteriorated, and Trent ultimately decided he wanted nothing more to do with him. His parents tried to get their sons past something neither of them knew any details about, and it only served to put more distance between the family and Trent.

Simpson knew from their first meeting that something about Trent was different. Physical abilities aside, he was a man who listened with the intent to understand rather than to respond, and it was a trait that was incredibly valuable and rare. Keen senses and intuition were what Simpson had built his reputation on, and he wasn’t a man to doubt his instincts. Choosing someone like Trent for the program was something he knew could come back to bite him someday, but he decided he’d take his chances, and now he was paying the price.

Peterson had finished configuring the room and noticed Simpson had completely spaced out. “Addy, you okay?” he asked.

Simpson’s thoughts evaporated and he came back to the present. “Yeah, I’m fine thanks.”

Inova Fairfax Hospital, Fairfax, Virginia

TRENT TURNER TOOK a deep breath as he waited for the elevator to arrive. The familiar hospital smell threatened to stir up bad memories, but he managed to fight them off. He’d seen too many good people die, and when they made it as far as a hospital, in many cases it brought more pain and suffering for everyone involved. If he could have his way, he’d want to go quickly.

The operative pulled up his brother’s room number from his smartphone to avoid contact with the information desk. At first glance the device looked like a top-of-the-line model purchased from a high-end mobile store, but in reality it was an XHD3, which stood for Xtreme Handheld Device 3. This was the third generation of the top-secret piece of hardware, and it was capable of delivering a stream of intelligence to an operative’s fingertips.

Trent used an application called Cannibal to pull up the room number. He and his handler had developed the program together. Both were talented software developers, which was half the battle when it came to their encounters with the dark art of hacking. They initially created Cannibal for doing the legwork needed in the field quickly and accurately, but it had since evolved. With the advances in its hardware platform, the device was now capable of accomplishing much more.

The application connected to several top-secret systems inside the CIA, FBI, NSA, and NRO over secure connections in data centers managed by The Shop. Turner knew better than to pry for details, but The Shop seemed to have legitimate contracts with the intelligence community to replicate, mine, and secure its most sensitive data. The agencies were aware of most of the connections they had made, but when pockets of guarded information were discovered, they would tap into those systems with ingenuity rather than approval.

Cannibal’s job was simple. It would take a question and spit out the answer. It was simple enough in theory, but the logic involved was based on a series of complex algorithms developed by Tak and Turner. It was the Google Search of black ops, and an invaluable tool in the field.

As he counted down the numbers to his brother’s room, he became increasingly nervous. Each step down the bland hospital hallway seemed less sure. After years of being solid as a rock, the unwelcome sensations were a dangerous distraction.

“Excuse me, sir,” the nurse said as she wheeled a covered gurney out of the room.

When her eyes connected with Trent’s, she looked shocked.
Seeing a dead man’s twin must be like seeing a ghost
, Trent thought.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said.

“Is this Ryan?” Trent asked. There was a hint of fear in his voice.

“Yes. I’m afraid it is.”

Trent said nothing, but the expression on his face screamed agony. He channeled the grief into anger and carefully pulled back the sheet that was covering his brother. A tear streaked from the corner of his eye as he kissed his brother on the forehead.