The Code Within: A Thriller (Trent Turner Series) (32 page)

“They had to be following you to get a line on her.”

“Shit. I don’t think I told you that she’s Max’s sister, did I?”

Turner blew out his breath and said, “No, you left that little detail out.”

“Sorry, it’s just we were so used to keeping things quiet. Max didn’t know, and neither did his father. No one knew except for her mom.” He closed his eyes and lowered his head. “Man, what a mess.”

The operative thought about what this might mean. “What about your sister?”

Millar’s eyes showed grave concern as he considered the question.

Kozlov Bratva Compound, Chicago, Illinois

HE HAD JUST finished deploying the final version of the software to their servers in Europe. The head of the communists’ operation, Yuri Khrushchev, had insisted the attacks be carried out separately after the complications in the United States. Nothing could be left to chance. Dimitri Sokov was proud of the work they had done. The testing was complete, and he was ready to put it to good use.

After he made his way to Pavel Kozlov’s office, Sokov set his laptop down on the desk. His harsh voice broke the intricate rhythm of the classical music playing in the background.

“I have done as Yuri instructed. The operations are now separate,” he confirmed.

“And the accounts? Have you determined the accounts that should be used?” Kozlov asked.

“Yes, the selection algorithm was run on the new dataset, and very little has changed. That is as expected. Soon the files we need to send to the bots will be complete, and we can send the changes to Virginia by courier this evening as planned.”

Kozlov had a bemused look on his face and motioned to the laptop. “What is this?”

Sokov was hopeful to demo the voice-cloning software. “Would you like me to show you how it works?”

Kozlov waved his hand dismissively. “We haven’t the time for that. We should call Yuri and provide him with an update.” He held up his phone and smiled. “This is technology that a man like me can appreciate, Dimitri.”

He punched a few buttons on the device, and a tinny ring sounded from its speaker.

“’Allo, Pavel?” Khrushchev answered.

“Yes, Yuri, it is Pavel.” He looked to the hacker. “I have Dimitri with me.”

“Has everything been taken care of on your end?”

“No, not everything,” Kozlov admitted. He put on a confident voice. “But everything necessary to carry out the operation has been set in motion.”

“The American?”

Kozlov closed his eyes. “No, Yuri,” he said. “He is still out there, as are the hackers. The men are still working on tracking them down.”

Sokov chimed in. “Yuri,” he said, “we have everything in place. Everything has been tested in the labs, and the bots have reported back that there have been no software updates done on the target systems. There shouldn’t be any problems with the bots functioning properly, so we are in very good shape.”

“Yes, but these hackers—what do they know about the operation?” Khrushchev demanded.

“Not enough to cause problems,” Sokov said with confidence. “We don’t know much about the hacker in Washington, DC, but regardless, it would be impossible for one person to figure what we’re doing in time to prevent this from happening.”

“Will everything be ready for tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Kozlov interrupted. “We have also taken the Washington, DC hacker’s girlfriend.”

“Good. What was his response?”

Kozlov’s face hardened. “He has not responded yet, Yuri. When he does find out, we will bring him in.”

Sokov decided to preempt Khrushchev’s next question. “The other hacker was working on the algorithm we use to determine the accounts. He doesn’t have the full picture of what we have going on. None of them do. He doesn’t know anything about Europe. He had no involvement with that.”

“Did everything go well with Andrei?” Kozlov asked, changing the subject. “As Dimitri said, the software is in place for the team.”

Khrushchev began to laugh.

“What’s so funny, Yuri?” Kozlov asked.

“Andrei told me he had very little to do at the meeting.”

“Then what’s so funny?” he pressed.

“It will be even bigger than we could have dreamed, Pavel. Much bigger.”

Kozlov looked confused. “And Andrei did nothing?”

“Not quite. He put a cherry on the top. Fate is on our side. The Americans wanted to infuse cash into Iraq’s central bank tomorrow.” Khrushchev began to laugh again. “They wanted everyone else to help with the aid to preserve their oil grab. Andrei decided to bring up the forty billion those fools lost, and he challenged them to make up for their mistake.”

Sokov wore an unsure smile on his face as Kozlov chuckled.

“Dimitri, the Americans lost forty billion dollars that they had sent to Iraq,” Kozlov explained. “They stupidly sent cash and we were happy to help our friends there do the laundry.” He smiled. “It sounds like they wanted The Group to agree to fund Iraq’s government again. Is that right, Yuri?”

“Yes, yes,” Khrushchev said.

“They keep shoveling us money,” Kozlov added. “We must thank them when this is all over.” He smiled before continuing. “Our comrade Andrei threw the previous catastrophe in their faces and insisted they make up for what happened by paying the forty billion again.”

“No, Pavel,” Khrushchev interrupted. “It’s even better. They will be transferring forty billion on top of the original amount they had planned!”

Sokov now understood what this meant for the operation in Europe and joined in the laughter. Once they settled down, a serious look came over his face.

“Incredible. This means we’ll be able do even more damage than we thought.”

“Yes, comrade, we will,” Kozlov said. “Indeed we will.”

White House West Sitting Hall, Washington, DC

“I’M SORRY, MR. President. I know you said not to disturb you, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Press Secretary Stephanie Craig said nervously.

President Cross was annoyed. “Who is it?”

“It’s Ivor Hood…from the FBI.”

“Hood?” The president considered the caller and thought about the situation with his friend Addy Simpson. He knew Matilde Soller was indirectly connected to FBI Director Frank Culder through her husband and wondered if this might be a way for him to help.

He gave her a curt nod and said, “Go ahead and put him through.”

Seconds later the phone on his desk rang.

“Deputy Director Hood, how can I help you?” he answered.

“Mr. President, I apologize for interrupting you on a Sunday, but I have a personal problem that I was hoping you could help me with.”

Cross detected a measure of intensity in the man’s voice. Nobody would try to cash in a favor from POTUS for something trivial.

“A personal problem?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Please, let me explain.”

The president leaned back in his chair. “Please do.”

“Well, sir.” He drew in a deep breath. “I hope this is something that can stay between the two of us.”

“I can’t promise that until I know what we’re talking about.”

“I understand. Suffice it to say that Director Culder is unaware of the inquiry I’m about to make.”

“Okay.” There was some hesitation in the president’s voice.

“I received an alarming message from my goddaughter a short time ago,” Hood said, choosing to be direct and to the point. “She also works for the FBI.” There was a pause before he continued. “Sir, I’m very concerned that Director Culder has something going on off the books. I think her life might be in danger.”

Cross leaned forward in his chair and stared intently at the grain of the wood along the edge of his desk. “Off the books?”

“She was working with two men, Jake Sanders and Rudy Pagano. Do those names ring a bell?”

The president searched his memory and couldn’t place the names. “No. Should they?”

“Probably not. They both worked for the bureau until early 2003. They had both been involved in FBI black-bag operations in TacOps.”

“I’m familiar with the program, but I’m not sure I follow.”

“Several more FBI personnel went off the books the same day these two men did.”

“Okay.” Cross settled back in his chair expectantly.

Hood seemed to consider his words. “Do you remember anything taking place around that time that would give some of our best and most trusted agents, people that I’d see as FBI lifers, a reason to resign?”

The president remained silent, so Hood continued.

“Mr. President, with all due respect, I understand that there are certain”—there was a brief pause before he continued—“strategies that the government implements to deal with particularly troublesome issues. You were a member of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence at the time, so if any unusual steps were taken to protect the country with the FBI, I thought you might recall.”

The president was immediately engrossed by the conversation. He wondered if this could be connected with his indoctrination into the world of covert operations as a rookie on the committee.

“Sometimes, yes. We have to deal with problems that come up in creative ways,” he said, obviously pondering something other than his answer. “The country was still reeling from the attacks on September 11, and Washington took many steps, some more extreme than others, to ensure the safety of our fellow Americans.”

“Do you think Director Culder could have taken the liberty to develop a strategy of his own?” Hood asked.

The president considered the question and recalled a top-secret National Security Presidential Directive. It was an initiative for the FBI to eliminate terrorist threats inside the borders of the United States, and there were two things about the directive that immediately came to mind. The first was that it was rescinded by the president after only a few months, and the second was that the program had been one championed by Senator Maximillian Soller.

At the time several influential committee members had banded together and rallied around then-Senator Cross, who had finally won the reluctant ear of the president. Together, they created Island Industries. The security company would be a front for the committee’s and executive branch’s new weapon, and retired admiral John Simpson, who had just been forced out of the top spot at the CIA, would be the man in charge. Not only would the new setup provide an extra layer of insulation for deniability, it would also make the FBI hit squad they had reluctantly agreed to form redundant.

The behind-the-scenes move had been the beginning of the end of Senator Soller’s time on the committee. He had managed to get his man into the FBI by cashing in a political IOU, but his sphere of influence would merely serve to keep Culder in place. The rift between the players involved was formed, and the committee would rally around its rising star, Senator Cross, and trust that he could control his longtime friend.

Cross had been at odds with Soller on the subject of Culder for years, unable to oust the man due to the senator’s power. The recent two-year extension for the FBI director’s ten-year term had been a tough pill to swallow, but he was now seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Please, Mr. President,” Hood said abruptly, interrupting his thoughts, “I wouldn’t be coming to you if I didn’t think my goddaughter’s life was in danger.”

Cross had to admit he appreciated the audacity of Hood to contact him. There was a level of desperation, but anyone with the guts to approach the President of the United States like this was okay in his book.

“We need to talk,” Cross said. “How soon can you get to the White House?”

Kozlov Bratva hideout, Leesburg, VA

CATHY MOYNIHAN WATCHED with curious shock as the young woman on the other side of the room repeatedly tipped her chair over in between shouts. It almost hit the ground once, and with each call out to the guards she made, the FBI agent’s heart rate increased. She feared this would provoke a situation that none of them wanted. Cold, soaked, and afraid, she couldn’t handle going back to that room for more.

“Hello? Hello!” the young woman shouted and then finally said, “Can someone please take me to the bathroom?”

The heavy footsteps had reached the door. Their power and urgency left no doubt that they belonged to the soldiers. Moynihan was increasingly nervous but kept her emotions in check. When the door swung open, two men entered the room, and both wore scowls on their weathered faces.

“Hi,” the young woman across the room said. Her tone was apologetic. “I really need to go to the bathroom.”

She was able to fashion an expression that satisfied one of the soldiers, and he walked over and began to reach for her handcuffs. The FBI agent noticed the young lady quickly move to face the keyhole of the cuff attached to the metal railing toward him. It was obvious that he had originally planned to unlock the cuff around her wrist. He paused for a second, as though he was confused, and then freed the cuff from the railing.

Once the restraint was removed, the soldier stood and motioned her to follow him. Moynihan watched the girl hook her leg around the chair, just like she’d done several times before. As she began to stand, she knocked her chair over and it fell over toward the computer desk. Moynihan’s mind was reeling as she relived the punishment the soldiers had given her. She couldn’t breathe. There was no doubt in her mind that they were capable of much worse. The girl managed a flustered look that also conveyed fear.

Both men laughed.

“I’m sorry,” the young woman said apologetically. “I’ll pick it up.”

Moynihan studied the girl as she picked up the chair and placed it on the other side of the metal bracket securing the railing to the concrete, and headed out the door. The FBI agent would have smiled if she hadn’t been starved for air. Before she could process what had just happened, a timid voice interrupted her thoughts.

“You’re the woman from that house,” Melody Millar whispered. “What did they do to you?”

Moynihan looked over at the teenager with a feeling of guilt. “Melody, I’m sorry they took you in like that.”

Millar didn’t respond.