He relived walking up the ramp of the waiting Chinook helicopter, his mind and gear ready for the first training exercise with the big dogs. Simpson had pulled a last minute change on him to see how he would adapt.
“Welcome to DEVGRU, operative,” the commander yelled over the noise. He patted Turner on his back and it calmed his nerves. “I guess this makes you PS 4.”
The operative had already participated in progressively more difficult missions with Navy SEAL teams, and it was always assumed that he had been CIA. Before The Island would assign their operatives to work with DEVGRU, legendary SEAL Jack Turner would subject them to a gauntlet of training of his own that he’d dubbed Camp Looney.
The noise from the rotors was loud, and Turner was in his element. He looked at the commander inquisitively and spoke loud enough to be heard over the noise. “PS 4?”
The man answered with a slanted smile and a raised chin. “You know, we used to resent you crabs jumping into our business outside the selection process,” he said. “Hell, some of the paramilitary boys the CIA sends over are downright unpredictable. Damn good but fuckin’ crazy.” The commander looked at Trent Turner appraisingly for a moment, and then said, “But you’re in luck.”
Turner furrowed his brow. “How so?”
“PS 1, 2, and 3 were so goddamn good we no longer doubt Addy and Jack’s boys.” He nodded toward a soldier seated on the canvas bench inside the aircraft. “And our other last-minute addition here vouched for you.”
Turner lowered himself onto the bench opposite the soldier in question as the man raised his head. He looked past the layer of face paint and smiled with a nod. The soldier returned the gesture. The two men had become close during Hell Week, the most brutal segment of the Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training, or BUD/S for short. It was the point where a man’s physical endurance and mental tenacity were pushed beyond the limits of what was thought humanly possible.
For the past several months, Trent Turner had experienced a recurring dream about the moment he had entered the helicopter. It was when he made the transition from Private Sector Number 4 to a hardened operative who would be unleashed into the world. Island Industries’ boss and former admiral, John “Addy” Simpson, pulled the sacred strings that allowed his candidates to take part in the Navy SEAL selection process. If they made it through, they would then work alongside the various SEAL teams until they were deemed ready to take on Camp Looney.
While in the BUD/S program, prospective Islanders were advised to keep to themselves, but sometimes connections were a product of fate. Turner and Brendan Manion struck up what should have been a lifelong friendship during the grueling week-long ordeal known as Hell Week. The men were put in situations where life was stripped down to the basic primal need to survive, fostering an environment in which men forged strong connections. The extreme fight to stay alive as a viable candidate required the absolute trust of your fellow soldiers, and sometimes the will to help carry them along. Trent realized the effects of the BUD/S program in a way that most could not. It facilitated the same sort of bond he had had with his twin brother, Ryan.
It had been clear to everyone in their class that Manion and Turner were wired differently than the others. The suffering during BUD/S served as fuel for their motivation, and together they were able to share their advantage with the others to help pull them through. Brendan Manion was voted Honor Man of his class, the soldier the other candidates had looked up to the most. He had selflessly given then for his fellow candidates and continued to do so until making the ultimate sacrifice for his country.
The recurring dream of Turner’s friend Brendan had been triggered by news that he had been killed in a Black Hawk helicopter crash in the southern-Afghanistan province of Zabul. He would dream about his final operation with the SEALs as a part of DEVGRU, also known as the famed SEAL Team 6, specifically the moment he reunited with Brendan. His friend had made it all the way to the top, as Turner suspected he would, and it made him proud. That was where the dream turned to a nightmare.
He would climb out of his sleep with thoughts of the first time Brendan had made the headlines. An investigative reporter had exposed Manion’s identity when details were leaked about a mission he had taken part in where a top Al-Qaeda commander had been eliminated. It was an election year, and the White House had purposely leaked the details — a few too many — to gain reelection momentum needed to defeat Vincent Cross. The sensational exposé of an active covert operative proved to be a major ratings grabber and had thrown the top brass at the Pentagon into an uproar.
The reporter had been reckless and set off a chain of events that included death threats to the soldier’s family, which culminated with the tragic and brutal murder of Manion’s wife and unborn child by an Al-Qaeda cell based in the United States. A few months later, when the news broke that Manion had been killed in action, it set off a media frenzy that dwarfed the previous circus and ripped the scab off Trent Turner’s wound. He and his friend had been fighting the same fight. He’d only wished they could have done it together, that he could have been alongside him and had a chance to change the outcome.
“Trent!” Millar’s voice was desperate as he shook Turner back and forth.
The operative opened his eyes abruptly. “What’s up?” he asked. He was alert, as if he’d never been asleep.
“That’s freaky,” Millar said with a disbelieving look.
“What?”
“That.” He nodded to him. “One second you’re sleeping like a baby, and the next you’re wide awake. It’s like you were faking it.”
Turner laughed, but the concern in Millar’s eyes stopped him short. “What’s wrong?”
“Those fuckers grabbed Maria.”
“Maria? Your girlfriend?”
Millar exhaled. “Well, she used to be my girlfriend. Kind of really doubtful now.”
“Shit. How do you know?”
“I just found a message from the Russians on the boards. I’ve been monitoring for activity since all of this started. I just confirmed it with The Shop. They found out about it a little while ago from some guy named Addy. They didn’t realize we knew each other.”
Turner took a moment to consider the news. “Do you think they’ve made a connection and know who you are?”
“I don’t know. They addressed the message to Max, which means they probably don’t know my handle online, or they would have just sent something to me. They know I’m a hacker, sure, but deploying the bots didn’t take a genius. I doubt they suspect I’m Slash ETC.” He forced a smile. “We still have one over them, especially considering The Shop is on this too,” he said confidently. His face turned grim again when he thought about Maria. “This is fucked.”
Turner put his hands on Millar’s shoulders. “I owe her one, remember? We’ll stop this, and part of that will be getting her out.” He locked eyes with Millar. “Okay?”
The hacker appeared unsure of what to say. Finally he said, “Yeah, sure.”
“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.
Chapter 90