“Look, Charles, it’s not an easy job. Everyone has their own way of switching off, detaching the emotion from what needs to be done. If an operative can’t do that, they don’t stand a chance in this business. That’s not news to you.”
“I can understand that in the field, but—”
“He’s the best I’ve ever seen. Maybe that’s what makes the difference for him. Being able to shut it out completely.”
“Sure, and a mechanism for doing so includes getting a rise out of his shrink? The guy who’s trying to help him? Smart move,” Reed said sarcastically.
Turner’s rivalry with the doctor had been obvious from the start, but it wasn’t personal for Trent, and both men knew that.
“Maybe he doesn’t need any help,” Simpson suggested, as if Reed was past the point of being able to be objective when it came to Turner. “It’s not like he has a tough time sleeping or he’s having flashbacks.”
“Perhaps,” Reed said. His failure to make any significant progress in getting through Trent’s mental barriers after all of these years had become a bit of an obsession for the doctor. The circumstances behind the death of his twin brother had the potential to change all of that. Leaving at a time when there could be a breakthrough would be difficult, but he didn’t have a choice. “That could change after what’s happened. How are you going to get this under control? If he hasn’t already started hunting down his brother’s killer, he will soon.”
Simpson started to say something and stopped himself before saying, “I’m heading to Virginia to meet with Jack.”
Reed was taken aback. “Really?” He knew Jack Turner was head and shoulders above any operative Simpson had ever worked with during his time as a SEAL, and he was also Trent’s uncle.
“He’s the best chance we have to turn this around.”
Reed squinted in disbelief and said, “So you’re expecting a happy ending?”
“Are you having doubts about your assessment?”
“No,” Reed said. “He won’t fly off the handle, but he’s not someone you, his uncle, or anyone else for that matter can control.”
Trent Turner’s move to Island Industries sealed the deal that finally brought his old friend and former commanding officer of the Navy’s Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL (BUD/S) training program over to his new team. The job and the California lifestyle had suited Jack Turner well, but family was family.
“It’s never about control,” Simpson said evenly. “It’s about respect.”
“Jack…” Reed shook his head and considered the number of times the man had refused to come to work for The Island.
The doctor had always thought the fact that Simpson was the one who recommended taking him out of the field had something to do with his previous refusals. It was never easy for an operator of his caliber to accept defeat at the hands of injury. The tough old cuss would have rather been shot and killed on an operation than sent out to pasture.
“He’ll do whatever he can to salvage this,” Reed agreed. “He feels obligated to look after his nephew for his younger brother.”
Working with Trent was something Jack had been doing under the radar. No one in the family knew of their new relationship. Mentor and prodigy.
Simpson rubbed his chin and said, “That’s the reason we were finally able to bring him on board, sure, but he believes in what we’re doing. He understands the big picture.”
“That’s not the problem, Addy. The problem is how you’ll go about finding a person who had a major hand in developing the very systems we use to track people down.”
Simpson hated it when people pointed out the obvious. “That’s not something you’ll have to worry about,” he said, alluding to his resignation.
Chapter 22
Bruce Campbell entered the Hilton Garden Inn on edge. He looked at the small child throwing a temper tantrum at the front desk and was happy for the distraction. His target, Aliaksandr Petrov, had been reported as being on the first floor. The first floor wouldn’t have been Campbell’s preference, so he began to wonder whether the assassin was expecting an uninvited guest. Perhaps the room was just a decoy. He knew his employer had incredible resources and would have provided the information if there were any indication of a trap, but his target was a top-notch professional, so he couldn’t discount the idea.
Doubts began to creep into his mind as he casually surveyed the hotel. An inflated ego made coming to the hotel alone an easy choice. He reasoned that he could catch the Russian off guard and score the kill, so bringing his driver along for an extra set of eyes wasn’t necessary. He hoped taking care of Petrov would get him back on good terms with his employer. Pressure from Pavel Kozlov about the previous fuckup had unsettled his nerves and chipped away at his confidence. Kozlov wasn’t a man who tolerated failure.
After exploring the layout of the building, Campbell decided to make a casual pass by the target’s room. Lobby signs directed him down a hallway to the left of the reception desk. The long corridor had a bend, presumably to help keep the noise down for the hotel’s first-floor guests. His level of anticipation remained high. Petrov’s room was still out of view because of the curvature.
He carefully rounded the bend and was presented with the cleaning crew’s rolling station. The cart was situated in the middle of the hallway, with a guest room door propped open on either side for quick access to the cleaning supplies. Campbell counted the rooms and knew the open door on the right led to the Russian’s. He readied his weapon as he crept to within earshot and steadied his breathing.
A quick check behind confirmed nobody else was in the hallway, but a flash of movement as he turned back to the room was enough for him to brandish his Sig Sauer P226R. The adrenaline shot spiked his heart rate as his laser-like focus switched to the object in motion. He took a deep breath as a white towel lazily slinked its way down the side of the cleaning cart and fell to the floor. Campbell quickly stuffed the weapon back into his sport coat and checked his six, annoyed with his edginess, knowing the assassin wouldn’t be expecting him. He approached the door slowly and peered around its frame.
The maid gasped in surprise when he appeared, and raised her hand to her heart. She quickly resumed smoothing out the sheets.
He took quick stock of the room and asked, “Will you be much longer?”
“Yes, sir…I mean, no, sir. I’m just about finished.”
He entered the room as she rushed nervously to complete the job. Campbell was an imposing figure, and the sport jacket didn’t do much to soften his look. After making the bed, she walked to the window and began to open the shades.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said firmly.
She took the hint and scurried out of the room with her head bowed.
Once she closed the door, Campbell began his search. First he checked the night tables, and then he moved to the dresser under the window. He heard the telltale beep and click from the lock on the door and, without turning to expose his face, waited for the maid to address him. He stood there and looked down at the laptop that sat on the dresser. Once she left the room again, he decided the laptop would be his next move.
Cold steel pressed against his right temple and startled him. His heart rate doubled when he considered the fact that the hotel staff would have knocked first.
“What are you doing here?” a voice barked in a harsh accent.