The Code Within: A Thriller (Trent Turner Series) (11 page)

Mikhail wasn’t amused. “Very funny,” he said. “I suggest you not act like such a fool.”

“What’s the big deal?” Zander asked, unable to shut himself up.

The Russian shook his head and changed the subject. His tone was gravely serious. “When will your work be completed?”

“I’ve got data for the past three months from the locations you requested. It’s already loaded on the servers. The script is inserting the records into the database as we speak. It should be finished in a couple of hours. The script will fire off the rest of the jobs once that’s done.” He was uncomfortable but tried to act normal. “I’d say it’ll be done by the time I get back from my appointment.”

From the conversation he had just overheard, Zander knew coming back wouldn’t be an option if he wanted to stay alive. He hoped his bullshit sounded convincing.

“Good,” Mikhail said with a raised eyebrow, and walked away.

Since the unexpected death of his mother a month ago, Zander had been hell-bent on figuring out a way to get back at the Bratva. The bastards had threatened to kill her if he didn’t come to work for them, and the fact that the mafia had robbed him of being there to support her during the final days of her life was something he wouldn’t let go.

He imagined her fear and sense of loneliness and would never forgive himself, even though it wasn’t his fault. Now he had nothing to lose. In his mind, he represented the only chance for his fellow hackers to make it out of this miserable situation. The trick was finding a way to get back at them without getting his head blown off. He needed to make sure there was no way they could figure out what he’d done.

Running into Maximillian Soller in the hacker forums was serendipitous. His username, mi11Ion2, made it a fairly simple task for someone with Zander’s unique skill set to confirm his identity after tracing the communications back to his college dorm. It was the break he’d been waiting for. He knew it was a long shot. It would take some serious luck for his selection of the senator’s son to materialize into a problem for the mafia, but it was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.

For the time being, he had the advantage. Nobody knew his mother was dead. The hackers all lived in fear knowing the Bratva might be tracking their every move. As far as he could tell, the Bratva only tracked their movements by their cell phones and the video surveillance in and around the apartment building where they all stayed. The complex was owned by Kozlov, so he never felt comfortable there.

“What’s going on?” Zander heard one of the guards ask Mikhail.

“Dimitri is sifting through the logs trying to figure out who put the senator’s son in the queue,” Mikhail said.

The queue was what they called the list of hackers who were good enough to install their bots without getting caught. Zander knew Soller wasn’t a skilled hacker, and that was one of the main reasons he chose him. Maximillian Soller II was a time bomb he hoped would eventually go off. Zander was purposely sloppy when deleting the communications between him and Soller. He was equally as careless with the messages between the other hacker recruits. The more opportunities he left for the authorities to uncover something untoward, the more chances of the Bratva being exposed.

He was concerned about the length of time it would take Sokov to work through the logs to figure out who had done the deed. He decided he only had a couple of hours before they would come after him. The hackers had been put on lock-down before, so he needed to move fast to make sure he wasn’t trapped in The Dungeon.

Zander had never been so thankful for a dentist appointment in his life. He walked over to the guard and submitted himself to the routine search. When they were finished, he rushed through the dank catacombs of the building and out to the street. He took the bus straight to his apartment, knowing he wouldn’t need a dentist if he didn’t hurry.

Woodley Park, Washington, DC

THE BENIGN CLOUDS above had delivered night early. Smells swirled through the air of the nation’s capital and propelled summer into full swing. Plants were in bloom, and a light breeze delivered hints of culinary creations from a line of restaurants up ahead.

Trent Turner cautiously walked down Connecticut Avenue toward the Marriott Wardman Park. Out of habit, he would take a detour into a store, this time a Starbucks, to make sure he wasn’t being followed. He decided it would be a good idea to double back through a neighborhood before making his final approach to the hotel.

Turner hailed a taxi outside the coffee shop and directed the driver to take Cathedral Avenue and then head down Woodley Road toward the Marriott. A cab was his best option to go in unnoticed. Just before turning into the hotel driveway, he noted the gray Chrysler 300 parked on the street. There was a black scrape down the front driver’s-side quarter panel. He sized up the damage with his rental car in mind and knew the car’s owner was somehow connected to his brother’s death. He wasn’t a man that believed in coincidences, so he began to run the possible scenarios for Millar’s pickup through his head. It was an extremely busy hotel, and he would never risk involving innocent people.

As the cab approached the lobby entrance, the operative instructed the driver to slow down. He wanted to make sure the bellhop was busy with another arrival when he exited the vehicle. He paid the cabbie as he scanned the area. A small family was exiting the sliding glass doors from the lobby, the concierge was going over a map with a tourist, and a thin man with a Washington Nationals baseball cap was leaning against the building. He used reflections to confirm no cars had followed him and headed inside.

The hotel lobby was posh and bustling with Friday-night activity. He made his way to the bank of elevators and walked toward the ding that signaled one had just arrived. The doors slid open.

“What’s wrong, mister?” a little boy asked as he exited the lift.

It had been a long time since Turner had spent time around children. He marveled at how astute their observations were. A child’s earnest concern and innocent, sometimes brutal honesty represented hope. In another life he would have enjoyed being a father, but he had made his choice, and fatherhood wasn’t in the cards. Any relationship he entered was bound to end in disaster; Ryan’s death had only underscored that point. He could live with his decision. What he did, the big picture of things, provided plenty of motivation for his work.

He made a mental note. The young boy had picked up an air of concern about him, which was significant. It confirmed he wasn’t on top of his game.

Turner put on a big smile and said, “Nothing that a young man like yourself can’t fix when you grow up.”

“I like fixing things,” the boy said as he held up his toy car with pride. “My name is Liam.”

Turner watched Liam’s embarrassed parents briskly escort him away.

“Nice to meet you, Liam,” Turner said quietly as the elevator door shut.

He wore an amused smirk as he rose to the sixth floor. When the door opened, he stepped out and listened intently. The corridor was filled with sounds of people gearing up for a night on the town. He pulled a card key from his pocket and tested it on a room next to some of the louder occupants on the floor. The swipe emitted a beep as the LED on the lock flashed green. He turned the handle to gauge the effort and noise involved. He repeated the task two more times and realized there would be no surprise entrance. He quickly headed down the hall toward Millar’s room.

Turner made a quick check to confirm none of the hotel’s occupants were in the hallway. He drew his pistol and screwed on the suppressor as he considered the reaction the beeping sound from the door might bring. There was no doubt the man who drove the Chrysler 300 would have made it to the room first. He didn’t know what the intentions of Petrov’s assassin were toward Millar, so he needed to take care of business fast. If the assassin was there to kill the hacker, this could already be over.

With one swift motion, he unlocked the door and swung it open. He quickly scanned the room for threats and sprinted to the other side to clear the bathroom. He spun back around to the door and checked the space behind the bed. The only thing left inside the hotel room was a dark blue backpack that sat on the bed. It had the words “United States Senate” embroidered on it, along with the Maryland state seal. There were no signs of a major struggle. That was a good thing. The cigarette smoke streaming out of the ashtray was also a good sign.

He ran down the hallway and through a door that led to the stairs and began his descent. He navigated his way down, taking several steps at a time. When he reached the first floor, he slowed to a brisk walk and made his way through the lobby. His eyes worked double-time, taking in everything as he strained for a glimpse of Etzy Millar. He could just make out the hacker’s lanky form though the glass doors. He was being guided firmly into a cab by an assassin. Several cabs were waiting at the curb, so Turner jumped into the first one in line.

“Follow that cab,” he directed the driver. “But don’t get too close.”

Soller Residence, Potomac, Maryland

SHE WAS ANXIOUSLY awaiting a message from her boyfriend. The couple had been secretly dating for almost a year, and her mother was the only other person who knew about their relationship.

Maria Soller was confused, lovesick, and mourning her brother’s death all at once. She had overheard one of her father’s conversations about her brother’s investigation, and it weighed heavily on her conscience. She wasn’t used to being an emotional wreck and could normally keep her act together no matter the circumstances, like her parents. Her phone hadn’t left her hand since she’d heard the news.

The text message arrived with the simultaneous beep and vibration of her iPhone. She looked down at the device and saw the message was from a number she didn’t recognize. Her pulse quickened. She slid her thumb across the display and unlocked the device with trepidation. Her iPhone launched into the message, and she began reading. Tears streamed down her face, and her hands started to tremble.

“Mom…oh my God. Mom. Mom!” she yelled with increasing urgency. She ran up the stairs to the kitchen.

“What’s the matter, honey?”

“It’s him! He just sent me a text. He’s in trouble,” she blurted out.

She handed the phone to her mother so she could read the message for herself.

m, i’m so sorry about max
—
i hope to explain later in person, but i had nothing to do with it, you have to know that. the guy who killed him is outside my door right now and says he has melody. he said he’ll kill her if i don’t go with him. pls check on her and make sure she’s ok. i’m going with him…i have no choice. pls text me back as soon as u find out if she’s safe. i love u! /etc

Matilde Soller’s eyes narrowed after reading the text. “Dear God.”

“Dad said Etzy was with Max when he was killed,” Maria said in a fearful voice. “He was talking on the phone with someone. I don’t know who, but…I don’t know. I was too scared to tell you.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I know it wasn’t Etzy’s fault. You can’t put this on your shoulders. Look what it’s doing to you. We’ll find out what happened to your brother.”

“He’d still be here if it wasn’t for me,” she said, her sobs breaking up the words. Now that her mother knew, some of the weight had been lifted, but this was complicated, and the emotion was still smothering her. It was she who had asked Etzy to help her brother out with school. Max had trouble making friends, and their chance meeting on campus had changed everything.

She was looking for her brother’s classroom, and Etzy happened to be in the same class. Their first conversation took them both by surprise and provided the first spark between the unlikely couple. The guilt was overwhelming as she wondered whether Max would still be alive if she hadn’t tried looking out for him.

“Do you know where his sister is?” her mother asked.

“Yeah, I know where she’s staying. She’s staying in an apartment complex.” Her hands were still shaking, and her face was streaked with tears. “In Gaithersburg. I have the address saved on my phone.”

“Okay, calm down, honey. Calm down,” her mother said. It was a soothing, confident voice. Her words carried the sort of comfort that can only come from a mother ready to do anything for her child. “Does she trust you?” she continued.

“Yes, she’s super nice.”

“Good. We’ll go check on her now. I’m sure she’s okay. We can find out if she knows anything about what Etzy and Max were up to.”

“Mom, did you read that message? Have you heard some of the things Dad has been saying?”

It was impossible not to hear the senator’s booming voice echo through the house. “Relax, honey,” she said, taking charge of the situation. “You need to relax. We’ll get through this, okay? First things first.”

Maria squeezed her mother tight.

Matilde Soller rubbed a caring hand up and down her daughter’s back and said, “Let’s make sure Melody is okay and find out if she knows anything that can help Etzy. If someone does have his sister, they won’t stay in her apartment. We’ll have a look from a distance first. If something isn’t right, we’ll go with plan B.”

The ability to reason was something that came easily to Matilde Soller. Being the wife of a high-profile senator put her in the spotlight more than she liked, but it was nothing the former Fortune 500 executive couldn’t handle.

“I love you, Mom,” Maria said with another squeeze.

“I love you too, honey.”

“I should have told Max that we were dating,” she said, her voice shaking.

“It wouldn’t have mattered, Maria.” She shook her head. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

“How do you know?”

“I know,” she said, invoking the definitive authority of a parent.

Maria was the one who had broken the quiet soul out of his shell and that increased her feeling of guilt. “But—”

“Let’s try to help Etzy through this,” her mother said in a gentle yet firm tone. “We could both use a distraction right about now. I have someone we can trust. Someone who can help. I’ll give him a call after we check on Melody.”