InSight

a South African, and I bet his résumé reads like an advertisement from Soldier of Fortune magazine.”
    Luke: “You’re saying he’s a mercenary?”
    Matt: “That’s what I think.”
    “That’s it!” Abby said, slapping her leg.
    Luke: “Hold on for a minute, Matt. Abby has something to say.”
    “Remember I said something caught my attention the night I was attacked? It wasn’t his voice. It was his accent. That’s why he didn’t want to speak. He only said a few words, but he definitely had an accent. Ask Matt if Collyer chew cloves?”
    Luke typed in the question.
    Matt: “I don’t know. I’ve only seen him from a distance.”
    Luke: “Why would someone like that work for Carlotta Gentry?”
    Matt: “He doesn’t. At least not openly. For the last few years he’s free-lanced in Boston for her father, Anthony Serrano.”
    Luke: “So Serrano really is Mafia.”
    Matt: “A dying breed, and Carlotta Gentry is Daddy’s little girl. Ask Abby. Carlotta portrays herself as this benevolent philanthropist, but she’s a controlling black widow, ready to inject her poisonous venom to achieve power over the kingdom. Money alone can’t accomplish that. She needs someone like Collyer to sweep the way clear.”
    Luke: “And you have no idea what happened to Dr. Kozov ?”
    Matt: “Nope. When Kozov started to have misgivings about her role in the production of the drug, she couldn’t sleep and began losing weight. In exchange for her silence, she received a recommendation. But she must have feared for her life. She either went underground or the bad guys took her out permanently.”
    Luke: “It’s starting to make sense. Voice synthesizers, money drops, Daisy. Too sophisticated and professional for anyone around here. I think that’s what’s been bothering me all along.”
    Matt: “Your intuition’s right. I have one more possibility I want to check out. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try. I’ll get back to you.”
    * * * * *
    I t took two days, but Matt finally convinced the widow of Martin Gentry’s accountant to search her husband’s papers. When she found what he wanted, he spent all night going over the papers. She had no idea she was concealing information that contributed to her husband’s death. The financial reports had been in his safe deposit box when he died and were then boxed with other papers from her first marriage. Matt hoped he hadn’t put her life in danger by asking to see them.
    The documents were the smoking gun he’d been searching for and explained at least part of what he’d been trying to prove. He would need more time to get an accurate picture of what they meant, but right now, he wanted the originals out of his house and in his safe deposit box at the bank, especially after seeing the Lincoln yesterday morning.
    He’d make copies and put them in his hidden vault. Vault? A euphemism. The papers would be so well hidden, he worried no one would find them if anything happened to him. Just as well he didn’t have them when he sent Luke the tapes of Kozov’s conversation. He’d already put Abby and Luke at risk. He’d called them from a pay phone because he didn’t trust his own phones any more. Paranoia was setting in. He’d call Abby later and fill them in.

Chapter Twenty-Six
    Knowing the Risks

    “C ollyer has to be responsible for everything that’s happened to me.” Abby said. “That day in the hallway of my office, the ransacking of my home, the attack in the yard, and the incident with my mother in the car. Everything, and all at the command of Carlotta Gentry.”
    “Looks that way. You’ve met her. What’s she like?”
    Abby leaned back, swiveled the chair to the side, and stretched her long legs. “She always reminded me of Katherine Hepburn: tall and bony with an imperious attitude and affected New England accent that spoke money. The tall and bony was genetic, the attitude acquired, and the accent contrived. Oh, she came from money, all right, but I’d heard the rumors it wasn’t the right kind. I never paid much attention. As far as I knew, Anthony Serrano made his fortune recycling junk before it became trendy.”
    “So how did the heir of an old Charleston family and the daughter of a Boston blue-collar millionaire get together?”
    “I don’t know. Stewart never talked much about his parents. Mr. Gentry was a handsome man, rather a rascal. I heard talk of affairs and gambling. Mrs. Gentry rarely spoke to me, let alone