“Look, Unc,” Trent said, “half of them have swarmed the main compound and the others are working their way in fast from the perimeter.”
They had just moved west from the shed into a small thicket of bushes thirty meters away.
“It’s only a matter of time before they find us.” Trent’s voice was measured. “We’re packing light, since we were just here for a quick recce.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “So, what are you trying to say?”
“I’ll distract them while you make a break for it and bring back the cavalry.” He turned toward a sharp noise off in the distance and back to his uncle. “I’m not leaving you to fend for yourself like this, and if we stay together, neither one of us will make it out. They’re clearing this place too fast.”
Millar’s panicked voice increased the tension. “You guys probably know this already, but they’re closing in fast. Really fast, over.”
Trent quickly slid his head under his tactical sleeve and saw the heat signatures closing in on their position. The limited options for cover made an already bad situation worse.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed, Trent,” Jack said.
“Nah, you know me better than that.” Trent mock punched Jack in the arm like his uncle used to do to him when he was a kid. “Besides, I’ve got a hot date waiting for me inside.” His thoughts hadn’t drifted far from Victoria Eden since the theater, and his concern had deepened by the minute. “I wouldn’t want to miss that.”
Jack shook his head. He wasn’t sure if he was proud of his nephew or annoyed by him. He decided that maybe it was a little of both.
“What are you going to do?”
“Don’t sweat it. I’ve got this covered,” he said. “Poor Man, I’m sending Heckler home. Focus on getting him out of here and then come back to me, over.”
“Copy that, Finger, over.”
Trent checked his XHD again for an update and quickly worked through some menus. He pointed west. “Head that way. Keep it straight, and you should be okay.” The two men pounded fists. “Be careful,” Trent said, and then sprinted off to run interference.
“You too, kiddo,” Jack replied under his breath.
Chapter 122
Dimitri Sokov had spent the last few hours sifting through tremendous amounts of data. He was finally at the point where he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. The Russian knew better than to relax, but everything was coming together, and a sense of pride lifted the spirits of the tired computer genius. He had expected to have everything completed by now, but had been forced to do the work himself. The American who was brought in to complete this part of the operation had betrayed them, and the Russian was thankful he had stayed intimately involved in every aspect of the operation. This was just a bump in the road, not a showstopper.
The hard work was now complete. Everything had been separated and verified. Each of the banks had a file that contained a list of account numbers. They weren’t random account numbers. Most of the accounts that were flagged belonged to individuals who were targeted to get paid tomorrow through the Federal Reserve’s Automated Clearing House (ACH) system. It was the system that nearly all American companies used to distribute their payrolls via Electronic Fund Transfers, more commonly known as EFTs.
There was one more attribute the list of account numbers could have that was equally as important as their payday. It marked the accounts that were active in the banking system but weren’t monitored by their owners very often. The hackers knew this because they knew the DataBank financial software as well, if not better, than the software engineers at Allegiance Financial Systems who created it. The Bratva’s hackers knew the fields in the database that correlated to transactions that weren’t automated, and on what dates they had occurred. Sokov knew most of the top banks in the United States relied on the DataBank program to store and process their customers’ bank accounts, so it was the obvious choice.
He had taken a break to provide an update on his progress. His eyes were weary from staring at a computer monitor for so long.
The Russian looked up from his desk as the hacker entered his office. “Pavel, the work is nearly complete.”
Pavel Kozlov did not look pleased. “You are behind schedule?”
“Yes.” Sokov looked down to the floor and then back to the Bratva leader. “I needed to complete the work that was to be done by Dennis Zander. It took longer than I thought it would, but it is done. The files just need to be encrypted, and they will be ready to be deployed.”
“You said you would be finished.” Kozlov was edgy.
“The difficult part is behind us,” Sokov assured him.
“How will the computers at the banks know what to do without these files?”
The question made Sokov uncomfortable, since Kozlov already knew the answer. “They will not,” he said tentatively, “but you can be—”
“Enough,” Kozlov barked. He took a deep breath in frustration. “Do not tell me you will be finished and then come back to me and say there is still work to be done.”
Sokov managed a curt nod and headed back to the server room. The Russian knew they were cutting it too close for comfort, but if he could finish everything in the next twenty minutes, there would still be enough time to transport the files to their backup site in Virginia. Just in case.
Chapter 123
Most people would think of it as a suicide mission, but most people weren’t wired like Trent Turner. He had inserted himself in between the two approaching patrols and his Uncle Jack’s escape route. Their guards were down, so it was fairly easy for the operative to maneuver into position. He heard them talking. They were American, and that explained the sudden increase in forces. Hired guns.
Based on the information the PMD had sent and his own observations, he knew the men had divided into pairs. He had secured some fishing line to a series of bushes and used the sound and motion to slow and redirect the soldier’s progress.
“Clear, over,” he heard Jack Turner broadcast over the comms.
Trent breathed a sigh of relief knowing his uncle had made it out. “Copy that. I’m going to dump my gear and cause a big ruckus. Looks like our new guests are locals for hire.” He slowed his pace. “Do me a favor and get that rescue party in here before their boss tries some of that crazy Cold War shit on me.” He was only half joking. “I don’t want to get my twig and berries electrocuted off, if you know what I mean.” Trent imagined both men laughing and added, “I mean it. I’m giving you up before I’ll let myself go through that sort of cruel and unusual punishment, over.”
“I’ll get you out of there, kiddo. Don’t you worry, over.” Jack’s voice conveyed lightheartedness, but it was laced with concern.
Millar was nervous and sensed the danger. “Poor Man’s got your back too, Finger, over.”
Distracting the enemy with the bushes had taken care of Trent Turner’s immediate problem, and he’d just sent a message abroad from his XHD3 in case things didn’t work out as expected. Executing the next part of his plan would be where things got tricky. This was something that could easily get him killed. He no longer had a visual on the soldiers, so he needed some help.
“Poor Man, I’m flying solo now. I ditched my kit. I’ve just got the comms. I’ll switch from throat to open mic and ditch them just before I make my move, over.”
“Copy that, over,” Millar confirmed.
“Keep the PMD right on top of me, twenty meters max, and tell me where the Tangos are. When I give you the signal, give them a haircut with the PMD on the side farthest from me, over.”