CHAPTER 82
Egorov Compound
Palm Beach, Florida
Alexander Egorov’s entourage pulled through the iron security gate and parked in the half-moon circle at the front of the mansion.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Egorov roared, the veins in his neck thick as ropes as he entered the house to find his sons sipping red wine with two women as some old jazz musician played a tune on his clarinet. Joseph and Natasha followed close behind Alexander.
At the sound of the old man’s voice, Taras Egorov spilled his wine and Pavel Egorov tried and failed to lower the volume of the music.
Joseph turned off the stereo while Natasha hovered around Egorov, who rebuffed her attentions.
Snorting like a bull, Egorov spat orders at the unwanted guests. “Get the fuck out of my house and never come back. As you stand here, I will kill you personally.”
The women avoided eye contact with the old man as they scrambled to obey his command and make their way outside.
“Papa, I’m sorry,” Pavel groveled, “but I don’t understand your anger. We just finished the deal you told us to do, and the money has been transferred to our account in Geneva. What have we done to upset you?”
It now made sense. This was the traitor he had heard whispers about: the federal agent, Rowan Anderson. She was here to purchase the product. The other woman must be her accomplice. He’d seen her somewhere before.
“Stop,” Egorov barked at the women. “Sit!” He turned to Pavel.
“I expected you to conclude the transaction, and I expected the money to be wired. What I did not expect was to find the two of you sitting around listening to music and trying to get in the pants of these whores. Especially when it has come to my attention that a federal fucking agency has had surveillance on you for at least twenty-four hours. And not one of you had any idea.” He slapped the wineglass out of his son’s hand.
“Alexander, enough!” Natasha begged. “You must calm down.”
Egorov smiled at his nurse as if to humor her, then glanced at Joseph in a way he knew his security chief would understand. Then he walked to the bar and poured himself a tumbler of fine whiskey.
Joseph moved quickly to his briefcase and retrieved a thick folder.
He marched across the living room and handed the document file to Pavel, who was now sitting next to Anderson on an exquisitely upholstered couch.
The accomplice sat in a chair opposite. Egorov recognized her now: The French ambassador’s daughter—the one whose husband had just been murdered. Interesting.
Pavel opened the folder and flipped through identification photos. “Who are these people, Papa? The spies?”
Anderson spoke up. “I know who they are. And I know they are planning to come here tonight or tomorrow.”
“How do you know this information?” Egorov demanded.
“They were on Nantucket with us, but unaware of my role. The leader is Nat Phillips. He told me he’s ‘heading south for a few days.’ Now you show up with his picture? Doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots.”
Anderson pointed to a photo of a young man’s student ID in the folder. “I don’t have the address, but I know this one’s family has a house here in Palm Beach.”
Egorov’s eyes darted from the traitor to Joseph, who was already dialing his phone and swiftly making his way to another room. After thirty seconds of uncomfortable silence, Joseph returned and whispered into his principal’s ear.
Another thirty seconds passed before Alexander Egorov made his decision.
“Bring one to me,” he ordered Joseph. “You know what must be done.”
Joseph bowed his head and left the room to assemble the tools and talent needed for this delicate mission.
Egorov turned to the women. “How soon can you be gone?” he asked politely. “I assume you have a way out of here—compliments of the embassy, perhaps?”
“Yes, we do,” the accomplice answered quickly. “Departure happens within minutes of my call.”
“Our business is concluded. However you use my product is not my concern.” He looked at each of the women. “It is true you know who I am, but I remind you that we know who you are. There is no place on earth where I cannot find you. Now leave.”