CHAPTER 89
Egorov Compound
Palm Beach, Florida
Multimillion-dollar yachts as far as I could see in every direction. Manicured hedges, exotic plants decorating the streets. Even the well-groomed palm trees that lined the roads projected an attitude of perfection.
The directions Si gave us were easy enough: Drive east ’til you hit the Atlantic, then turn right. About a quarter mile later, watch for a mansion with a turret; it’ll have crossed lances above its front door.
Finding the place wasn’t difficult at all. The real challenge was that there was nowhere to park, hence no place to stage the assault. We were screwed before we even started.
“What the fuck,” Oliver whispered as the 4Runner rolled past the Russians’ place. “Nowhere to dump this thing, of course.”
Clearly Oliver was feeling a little put-upon, but I had a solution.
“Hey, man, check it out up there on the right.” I could see some construction ahead—a perfect place to park without upsetting the natural order of Palm Beach.
I fantasized a reason for the construction: If the hedge-fund manager’s wife hadn’t nagged him to tear down their 13,000-square-foot “starter mansion,” we would have been looking for a place to park all night.
Thankfully he capitulated, and their mid-century classic is now a large pile of rubble.
Good for his wife, probably good for him, but definitely lucky for us.
Oliver was right—the Bentley would have been out of place in this mud. We were about 400 meters past the Russians, so we grabbed our gear and started jogging toward the target. Thankfully no traffic and no dog walkers.
I said, “It’s gonna work, man. Let’s push past the driveway and grab those guys on the fly.”
Wolf drove the Florida Moving and Storage truck about a hundred meters north of the compound and coasted to our position. I stepped up on the sideboard to update him.
“Look at these two monkeys we found swinging from the trees a little while ago.” Wolf smiled as he pointed to the rear seat of the truck, where Jimmy T. and Rudy sat shaking their heads.
“Fuck, Nat—I’m sorry,” said Jimmy. “After you called the first time, we went down to the marina to give the boat one more look. Bad reception. Missed your calls. Si filled us in, so we ran over here and got picked up by these assholes about half a mile from here. We’re ready.”
“No sweat, man. You two stay with the truck ’til we breach. Once we’re inside, you guys figure out how to open the front gate, then bring this thing around back. With any luck we’ll have someone to toss in, and we can bail.
“Team Eagle is on station off the coast for a medevac if we need one. Same plan as before: Once we meet the objective, we get the hell out of Dodge and head west to the sugarcane fields. At that point we’ll ditch the truck and call in the helo. Cool?”
Everyone nodded.
“Okay, Wolfgang, you’re with me. Boys, we need one alive. Let’s get it done.”
Since Jimmy and Rudy had been on recon, neither had body armor. I knew both would have gone on the assault without their plates, but there was no reason to risk it.
We assumed the Russians had early-warning devices around the place, but we had to press on.
Oliver gave me the thumbs-up and the fun began.
The lights inside the mansion were on, but nobody was visible.
Wolf and I were over the fence and on our way to the breach point at a gallop.
I bounded up the front steps and immediately put two rounds into the dead bolt, then two more into the doorknob, rolling away for Wolf to kick it open.
Wolf hit the door with the bottom of his boot as hard as any NFL kicker.
It was perfectly choreographed—except that neither of us realized exterior doors in Florida open to the outside, not the inside.
The shock of his foot making contact with what was clearly a very solid piece of some exotic South American hardwood stopped Wolf dead in his tracks.
He fell backward like a bag of cement. If anyone had been sleeping, they weren’t now.
“That was graceful,” I chuckled. “Wonder if they heard that? Ready now?”
Wolf was back on his feet in two seconds, saying, “Yeah, fuck me. Note to self, right?”
I grabbed the doorknob and yanked. Mercifully the 9mm rounds had done the trick and the door opened on my first pull. As I followed Wolf inside, I saw the blur of Oliver’s team closing the distance in a hurry. I hustled to clear entry so they could pass through.
“Clear!” Wolf called.
“Stairs eleven o’clock, deep,” I relayed to Oliver as they blew by in a sprint. I heard the sound of a car engine turning over and figured the twins must have opened the front gate.
So far, so good. Wolf led us into an adjacent room and immediately fired two suppressed shots from his HK. I stepped over the body of a dead Russian with his AK still on Safe. Muffled sounds came from upstairs, but I couldn’t tell what was going on. I had to believe it was good news.
I entered the hallway and noted two doorways on the left. At the end of the hallway was a large window, illuminated from outside by the high beams of our moving truck. Knowing Wolf was behind me, I followed my gun into the first room. Nothing.
Wolf led us to the next door and held up a hand in the Halt position.
I saw what he saw: The door was ajar. I squeezed his shoulder and had my suppressor over his right shoulder and into the room way before my body.
The sound of the AK was deafening from two feet away.
Egorov’s guy had flattened himself against the wall just inside the door of what appeared to be an office.
Unfortunately for him, by the time he recognized the suppressor he had three bullets ripping through his face, neck, and chest, and had collapsed in a heap.
More sounds from upstairs; several loud thuds on the floor. I guessed Oliver was doing okay. Wolf and I moved through the kitchen and finished up in a great room across from where we started.
Wolf spied the door to what looked like either a vault or a bomb shelter, so I stacked right on his hip.
He twisted the knob and we prepared to drive our barrels in first, only to find another door—a heavy-duty bastard—six inches deeper.
Whether it protected a vault or a safe, we weren’t getting in there without dynamite or a torch.
“Keep an eye on it,” I told Wolf.
“Why,” he deadpanned, “is it going to run away?”
I gave him the finger, then yelled upstairs, “First floor clear!”
“Collecting intelligence, then coming down,” Oliver called from above.