CHAPTER 79
Egorov Gulfstream
Natasha slept soundly on the couch while Alexander Egorov nodded absently to whoever was on the other end of the phone. Joseph had excused himself to the aft of the plane when the secure phone line rang, allowing his boss to speak in private.
“Sir?” he asked politely.
Alexander Egorov closed the folder, looked his protégé in the eye, and asked evenly, “Who the fuck were those people who boarded my yacht off the coast of Nantucket?”
Joseph was ready for the question, having received the latest bit of intelligence from his sources while the G5 engines whined before takeoff.
“They are members of an organization called Chesapeake Security and Training Company. This company employs former military and has contracts for hire all over the world, but lately a lot of PSD protection in Iraq and Afghanistan. Prior to the event on your yacht, the unit in question was involved in a significant engagement in Iraq, where they killed several supposed terrorists and saved an American patrol outside Baghdad. The team was then rotated home, but it’s unclear how or why they wound up on Nantucket Island at the same time as your yacht.
They have obviously since been caught up in the events that unfolded. ”
“Your assessment, Joseph?”
“Formidable. They have deep resources and clearly first-class talent. My sources couldn’t gather any details beyond what I’ve told you, but we know this group retreated behind the fences of their facility in Maryland.
We’ve done only passive reconnaissance on the property, but it appears to be professionally staffed and very secure.
“The main entrance to the compound looks the same as any other estate in the area: a large, wrought-iron gate, hung between two brick facades on either side of the driveway.
Thick woods provide natural concealment and limit visibility to about ten yards.
It is surrounded by almost ten thousand acres of nature sanctuary, affording additional privacy.
“Expertly concealed around the foliage of the entrance are a series of high-resolution infrared cameras that record everything that passes the gate, day or night. The driveway has a pronounced serpentine drift, preventing anyone from driving faster than a crawl. A variety of early-detection devices throughout the property are reinforced by armed patrols constantly monitoring the compound’s security.
“About a quarter mile inside, a twelve-foot-high chain-link fence topped by razor wire protects the inner perimeter, along with a manned guardhouse and attack dogs.”
Joseph handed his principal a thick folder containing his notes, a few photos, and all the open-source documents about CSTC his team could gather.
The day after the storming of the yacht off Nantucket, Joseph had told his Russian-mobster contacts that any information they provided about the event would be well rewarded.
It wasn’t long before a dock worker in Charlestown, Massachusetts, mentioned that some Irish guys had been asking about Russian and Chinese crime syndicates, and poking around about the ferry explosion.
The guys asking questions worked for the Teagan family.
Plenty of Boston families had Irish names, and then there were the true Irish—the believers.
The Teagans were the latter. It didn’t take too long to find out that one son, James, had left the family business for the greener pastures of the American army.
And that James had been an Army Ranger, had deployed to the Middle East multiple times, and was now employed by a private military contractor on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.
Egorov listened intently as his security officer finished the briefing.
“This is all very helpful, Joseph, but I have one more request. I’m afraid I need you to deliver it by the time we land.”
Joseph nodded, his mind racing: What order was he about to receive? (These were never really “requests.”)
“I want the names and photos of everyone who was on my yacht, starting with their leader.”
Joseph did some mental calculations. They were four hours from Palm Beach. The names alone would be difficult enough to locate, but people in the spook world were notoriously camera-shy, so it was entirely possible that no images existed. He would have to shake the tree hard.
“Sir, I will do my best and get this started, but I can’t lie to you: This task will be challenging. May I ask why the rush for photographs?”
Their eyes locked, steel to steel and no emotion.
“Because right now they are surveilling my fucking house.”