The Code Within: A Thriller (Trent Turner Series)

by S. L. Jones

  Everyone laughed.

  “Did you have any luck with the Federal Reserve?” Trent asked.

  “We do have one development,” Grayson replied. “After wading through the traffic logs, the team has managed to track communications from one of the known bots into the Fed. The strange thing is that the computer in question hasn’t made any contact with any of its financial systems as far as we can tell. Aside from its normal processing, the only other significant communication has been with its corporate phone system.” She paused so Trent could digest the information. “Quite a bit of traffic actually, and it didn’t use the TCP and UDP ports we expect for the VoIP phone system they use.” She sighed in frustration. “We’re still pulling down information, but since they don’t know we’re in there, we’ve had to throttle the bandwidth down so we don’t trip any alarms and risk being discovered. It will be a while yet before we’re finished downloading everything.”

  “What about the accounts they have overseas?” Trent asked. “Have you been able to dig into that any deeper?”

  “No luck so far. The banks we’ve examined look to be in good shape.”

  He thought of something else. “What kind of phone system does the Fed have?”

  “GoldenGate Systems,” she confirmed. “One of the best and most popular.”

  Trent Turner rubbed the back of his neck as he considered a new angle and said, “I suspect that they might be hedging their bets with a combination of attack vectors.” The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. “We need to find out if any or all of the banks we’re plugged into are using a GoldenGate phone system. These people are smart, and it’s possible that they’re exploiting the phone systems and the DataBank financial software.”

  “I think you might be onto something,” Grayson agreed.

  “Can you pass along all of the Fed’s account numbers for the banks in Europe? I have a friend that I want to reach out to,” Trent explained. “It’s too early to call Europe right now, but he might be able to help us out with the intercept Tak had been working on. I think the program was called DEADPREZ.”

  “Absolutely, if it’s ready it certainly couldn’t hurt,” Grayson said, reflecting on the possibility. They heard muted conversation in the background before she continued. “I just got word that the hacker who defected wants to come in as soon as possible.”

  All three of them perked up.

  “I’ll get him,” Jack said. “I can’t help with this computer geekery anyway. Cyn, just send the RV info to my phone and consider it done. Addy said we should have some help here soon.”

  “I’ll send it directly,” she confirmed.

  Jack Turner started for the door and said, “I’ll get changed, pick up some gear from my hotel room, grab the hacker and head back here.”

  In the background Trent had booted up his laptop and pulled up the GPS tracking software. The operation had gotten more complicated now that Victoria Eden had been taken. He already had enough innocent blood on his hands and was concerned about what horrors might meet the violinist if he didn’t get to her soon. He navigated through a couple of screens and located the red dot.

  “Let’s see where our Russian friend made off to so we can figure out our next move,” Trent said. “The heavies I had a run-in with were good. They might be holding her there.”

  Jack Turner stopped at the door and turned to his nephew. “Who?”

  Trent shared a look with Millar and said, “I’ll explain later. It’s a long story.”

  Chapter 116

  Kozlov Bratva hideout, Leesburg, VA

  BRUCE CAMPBELL’S REVELATION was interrupted by his cell phone. He kept his stare trained on Melody Millar as he fished the device out of his pocket.

  “Yeah?” he answered. He listened to the caller and nodded a few times in acknowledgment before responding. “Got it,” he said. “Twenty?” He listened intently to the caller. “Sounds good. I’ll let him know you’ll be there.”

  Campbell smiled as he disconnected the call, his eyes never leaving the frightened teenager. The good news was welcome after his recent string of failures. He punched at the phone and lifted it to his ear.

  The call was answered on the first ring.

  “Tell me something I want to hear,” Pavel Kozlov said.

  Campbell jutted his jaw out confidently before answering. “They’ll be at the gate soon, an hour tops.”

  “Good. You’ve come through,” Kozlov said, sounding surprised. “We’ll have the men keep an eye on the monitors so they can tend to the gate.”

  “There will be twenty of them,” Campbell said.

  “Splendid. How many have you worked with?”

  “Most,” he confirmed as he snuck a glance at the FBI agent. “There are some ex-Delta, Rangers, Marines. They’ve all worked the bodyguard circuit for Active Armor,” he said, indicating the firm that had once employed him. “I’m sure the guys I don’t know can handle themselves, or they wouldn’t be there.” Campbell needed to spell out the terms he’d agreed to for his boss. “They’re expecting cash. Upfront,” he explained.

  “Of course. I’ll take care of that directly.”

  “Jim Stratton will collect. He said he’s going to bring some radios for your men so everyone can stay on the same page.” He shifted nervously before adding, “It’s in your best interest to let him run the show. His men trust him, and yours can too.”

  “I will take that under advisement,” Kozlov said.

  The corners of Campbell’s lips formed a smile as he turned to the young girl. “There’s something else I think you ought to know.”

  “Oh? And what’s that?”

  “The hacker that got away from me,” Campbell said, this time speaking with a hint of amusement. “His sister landed here somehow. In Leesburg. Can you believe it?”

  Melody Millar shuddered when he spoke the words.

  “Really?”

  “I’m positive,” Campbell replied. “They’re practically twins, only she’s a bit younger.”

  “That might come in handy,” the Russian said, a smile creeping into his voice. “Everything is falling into place.”

  Chapter 117

  Kozlov Bratva compound, Chicago, Illinois

  SHE WAS SITTING across the small metal table from him. He made her uncomfortable with his probing stare. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been locked in the cold, drab room, but she was determined not to show her fear.

  “Ms. Eden?” he said in a patronizing tone.

  It sounded like a question, so she was confused. She decided it would be best not to answer.

  “Or should I say Ms. D’Angelo?”

  Victoria Eden’s eyes widened, and her heart raced. It didn’t take long for him to figure out who she was, and it felt like he had stripped away a layer of protection. Her fear increased as his icy stare penetrated her eyes.

  “I knew him, your father,” Pavel Kozlov said. “What a waste he was. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  His words hurt. She wasn’t going to dignify them with an answer.

  “Such an incredible talent down the drain.” He lowered his chin and startled her with a sudden clap of his hands. “Or shall I be literal and say a drunk into a tree, as the case may be?”

  The words stung, but the anger they provoked took the edge off her fear.

  “And that mother of yours…” He brought his thumb and index finger to his lips and opened them as he spoke. “Mmmmwhah!” he said. “Now she was a loss. So beautiful.”

  His lustful smile disgusted her, and she pulled away sharply when he reached for her hand.

  “Like her daughter.”

  He locked eyes with her and he looked pleased to see the fury in them.

  That was his plan, and he had made significant progress. The Russian needed to uncover the extent of her involvement with The American, and to achieve that, he counted on her losing control.

  “Tell me about your friend,” Kozlov said.

  She remained silent. Disgu
sted. Furious.

  “I can tell you more details about your mother if you’d like,” he said. “Everyone has their little secrets. Perhaps you’d be interested in some of Jaclyn’s.”

  She shifted nervously in her seat at the mention of her mother’s name. Her memories were sacred. He had already made it clear that he would say anything to get under her skin, and Victoria Eden didn’t want the memory of her mother tainted with his lies. Even more frightening to the violinist were the truth’s she might learn.

  He smiled, although his eyes told a different story.

  “I don’t know who he is,” Eden said.

  “Please, Ms. D’Angelo, we haven’t the time for lies. Would you like to hear why your father got started drinking?” Kozlov asked in a melancholy tone. He looked at her appraisingly, comparingly, and said, “It’s hard to keep a beautiful woman like your mother all to yourself.” He smiled a half smile, half sadly, and added, “Even when bound by holy matrimony.”

  “I told you, Pavel”—her eyes burned with rage, and he looked full of content—“I don’t know who he is!”

  Her mother’s suicide had always been a mystery, and her greatest fear was that the impulse to take one’s life was genetic. She tried to erase the obsessive thoughts from her mind. Who hadn’t been in a dark place and felt alone? Who hadn’t wished they could end the horrible circumstance they found themselves in? It was normal, she had told herself. Things would get better. Life would get better.

  “He was on my flight to Chicago last night,” Eden said. “We ran into each other at the coffee shop in the airport, and then the one at the Fine Arts Building this morning.” She did her best to stay calm and decided the simple truth was the best way to end this. “I invited him to the show when I saw him there because, frankly, I don’t know anyone in this fucked-up town. Now I’m beginning to think that’s not such a bad thing.” She tilted her head in annoyance and said, “He was cute, and I didn’t want the tickets to go to waste. That’s it. There. End of story. Can I leave now?”

  Kozlov tilted his head to match hers and offered a patronizing smile. “I don’t believe you,” he said.

  She exhaled in frustration.

  “What is his name, Victoria?”

  “Tony, okay. Tony Kalem. Check the flight. You’ll see,” she said sarcastically. “You seem to have access to everyone’s information anyway. Can I go now?”

  Kozlov stood up. The screech from his chair legs scraping the concrete floor caused her to jump. His tone turned threatening.

  “Victoria, this is going to get ugly if you don’t start telling me the truth. Your friend has killed a lot of my men.”

  She digested what he said, and her rage digressed to fear.

  “Far too many have died for me to simply let this go and forget about it. Please forgive me for holding such a grudge. Typically, I’m…” He looked to the ceiling as he searched for the English saying. “How do you Americans say? Like a duck? Things normally just roll off me.”

  She shifted uncomfortably. Until now she hadn’t considered that her life was in danger. The headstrong young woman had always blown off her borderline self-destructive behavior as being persistent or tenacious. Now she was contemplating whether the trait was an illness, like her mother’s depression.

  She had been determined to win over Tony Kalem. He was both dangerous and handsome, but for the first time she considered whether the former had been the bigger draw. Victoria D’Angelo began to wonder whether she, too, was destined to be the cause of her own demise, and it frightened her.

  He slammed his fist on the table abruptly, ending her train of thought. “I will make him pay for what he’s done.” He raised his chin and shot her a menacing look. “And you’re a good place to start.”

  Chapter 118

  Downtown hotel, Chicago, IL

  BOTH MEN TURNED in unison when the hotel door emitted a beep. Jack Turner entered the room with a pale, twitchy twentysomething who was obviously scared out of his mind.

  “Have a seat,” Jack said, motioning to one of the two beds.

  The hacker nervously made his way over to take a seat. His eyes darted between the three men in the room as he sat down. He slowly peeled his backpack off and let it drop onto the bed.

  Trent Turner stood up and walked over to the newcomer with his hand extended. “I’m Trent,” he said.

  Dennis Zander shook his hand with a cautious smile and replied, “Dennis.”

  The operative noticed his clammy hands. He needed to calm Zander down.

  “Look, Dennis,” Trent said, “you’ve gotten into a bad situation here, there’s no doubt about it.” He sat down on the bed across from Zander so he’d be at eye level, in a neutral position. “We’re going to try to help you out. If you’ll let us.”

  The hacker nodded.

  “But you need to be straight with us,” Trent said. “Understand?”

  “Yeah,” Zander said.

  “So what’s your story? How did you get mixed up with these people?”

  Zander explained the strong-arm tactics the Bratva had used to bring him on board. He told them they had threatened to kill his mother, so he was left with no choice but to cooperate. The hacker told them that most of the other hackers were in a similar situation. His mood turned grim when he got to the part about his mother’s unexpected death and how he had tried to expose the Bratva using Senator Soller’s son.

  Etzy Millar cringed when he realized this was the person who was indirectly responsible for the murder of his best friend and the nightmare that had ensued. Millar’s face was red with anger when he blurted out, “I hope you’re happy with what you’ve done.”

  Trent turned and gave Millar a sharp look that quickly diffused his temper.

  “Listen, Etzy,” Trent said, “we all do what we have to do to survive. Sometimes there’s little choice.” He thought of his twin brother, and his tone turned somber. “Unfortunately, sometimes the consequences aren’t what you would have expected.”

  Zander’s eyes were full of regret and sadness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know all of this would happen.”

  Trent hoped the hacker would come through for them with some more details about the Bratva. The tracking device he had placed on the man from Kozlov’s security detail had ended up in the Mercy Hospital morgue, along with the dead Russian. His face hardened as he sized up Zander.

  “Now you’re in a position where you can help end this so more people don’t get hurt,” Trent said. “What can you tell us about their operation? Where are the other hackers being held?”

  Zander explained where they were located and what he knew about the building’s setup. He had Googled it once and found that the building was part of an old steel factory. He provided details around the manpower used to protect the building and explained how some of the men had been moved to another location a couple months ago, so there weren’t as many guards present. He started to run through details about the software he had been working on when Turner stopped him short.

  “Thank you. That’s all very helpful,” he said. He pointed to his uncle. “Jack and I are going to head to the compound to do a little recce while we wait for some friends to arrive. We’ll need you to explain the details you have about the botnet to Etzy. You two can work with The Shop on this. Okay?” Turner gave Millar an appraising glance and was pleased that he had calmed down.

  “Yeah, that sounds good,” Millar said.

  Zander looked confused. “What’s The Shop?” he asked.

  Trent smiled and said, “You’ll find out soon enough.” He addressed Millar. “We’ll need you to run the PMD for us via the 4G connect.”

  “No problem.” Millar answered Zander’s look of confusion with a broad smile. “Just call me when you’re set up and ready.”

  Chapter 119

  FBI Headquarters, Washington, DC

  HE SET HIS briefcase down on his desk, popped it open and picked up the envelope he’d taken for Director Culder and locked it into one
of his desk drawers. He looked out his window onto the quiet streets of Washington, DC for a brief mental reprieve. How quickly fortunes could change, he thought, as he contemplated his next move. Ivor Hood’s meeting with Addy Simpson had gone much as he’d expected. His only question now was whether information about the case involving his goddaughter would remain on a two-way street. He hoped it would. If anything happened to Cathy Moynihan, he would never forgive himself.

  He shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk until he found what he was looking for. A red circle from a felt-tipped pen marked the call. Simpson had told Hood about the incident at the Studebaker Theater in Chicago, and that the evidence they had indicated Jake Sanders was involved. All of the details were provided in the envelope Simpson had given him. He zeroed in on the ten-digit number that called his goddaughter’s cell phone last night.

  Simpson had decided it would be best to put Sanders to the test by dropping the bomb about FBI Director Frank Culder. The degree to which the information would shock him would depend on how much he knew about what was going on. Hood dialed his number, and his voicemail picked up immediately.

  “This is Jake. Leave a message after the beep and I’ll get back to you.”

  Hood looked out the window as he waited for the sound. When the beep sounded he knew it was all on him now.

  “Mr. Sanders,” he started, “this is FBI Deputy Director Ivor Hood.” He paused for effect. “One of our agents, Cathy Moynihan, who works out of the WFO, has gone missing, and, according to Ms. Moynihan’s last report, you are the last person she was with.” Hood decided to let Sanders think about what he’d said for a moment before he continued. “I see that you are a former employee of the bureau, Mr. Sanders, although Ms. Moynihan was under the impression that you were still employed at the FBI, based on her communication. Obviously she had been misinformed. Please give me a call as soon as you receive this message. We are very concerned about Ms. Moynihan. She was supposed to check in hours ago and has not yet made contact. Her car was found abandoned on the side of the road near Leesburg, VA, this afternoon. You can reach me at…” He provided the area code and number to dial