Page 18 of Fool’s Gold

“Please do keep us appraised of the situation.” Astraukas said after a moment. “I’ll have my daughter take down her... story. It’s demeaning.”

Matt let himself smile. “Thank you, sir. It is a little embarrassing, I’ll admit it. But please don’t punish her for expressing her creativity. I’m happy to pay for a creative writing class or something like that.”

MacRae cracked his knuckles. “I think we’ve heard all we need to. Mr. Heinonen? If you’d like to discuss your use of slurs, how about we meet up in a time and place of your choosing? I would love a chance to explain my feelings to you in a more direct way.” And then he grinned, sharp and feral.

The call cut out. Matt blinked.

Jack appeared at his side. “Did... did one of those board people just challenge another to an actual fight?”

“I think he did.” Matt took a breath. “As long as it stays out of the papers, I hope he kicks Heinonen’s ass.”

Jack barked out a laugh. “Who knew you had it in you? All right. I’ve heard from the Georgia Bureau of Investigations while you were chattering with the board. They figured out what was in that syringe.”

Matt looked up at him. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Strychnine. Enough to take down a platoon.”

Matt froze. He’d heard about strychnine. Granted, he’d mostly heard about it in lurid mystery novels, but he knew the gist of things. “That’s... not a fun way to go.”

Jack shrugged. “No. I’ll admit, poison was never my favorite way to take people out back in the good old days, but I was even less of a fan of strychnine. It’s an excruciating death, and it shows up pretty easily on a tox screen—not that you have to wait for a tox screen to know, because the symptoms aren’t exactly subtle. But the good news is that with the amount their guy was going to shoot into you? You’d have been gone in ten minutes tops.”

“Christ.” Matt tried to pull himself together. The image of himself wracked by bone-breaking convulsions stopped him. “I get being mad at Besse. But strychnine?”

“Yeah, that’s not the kind of thing Joe Public has as their go-to for murder. They’re likely to go for their guns, or a knife, or strangling. Even if they do go for poison—”

Matt gaped at him. Jack had said he’d been an assassin, but that was just an abstract concept, the kind of things people said when they wanted to look tough. He hadn’t really believed Jack.

“Right. Sorry.” Jack looked away, cheeks pink. “Anyway. They didn’t find prints on the attacker, but once I got a look at the guy, I could ID him. His name is Artemi Kozlov, and he’s kind of like me. I was CIA, he was FSB. We even worked a couple of jobs together, when we had the same mark. I mean why duplicate efforts, right?”

Matt tried to retune his mental radio to the international assassin channel. It wasn’t one he’d tried before, but he gave it his best effort. “Of course. I’m an accountant. We’re all about the efficiency here.”

Jack gave him a tired grin. “The main difference between me and him is that I quit because of my conscience and he quit because of his wallet. I came to work for Five Star, and now I protect people from guys like me. He now does the same thing he used to do, but for the highest bidder.”

It didn’t take long for Matt to figure out what that meant. “Those protestors out there can’t afford a former FSB hitman.”

Jack met his eyes. “No, they can’t. But someone you know can.”

CHAPTEREIGHT

Openingup the playing field for candidates willing to bump Matt off made things a lot more complicated. Agent Morales stopped by the apartment that night to talk about the incident, and the possibilities. Apparently, he’d been working in Organized Crime before transferring to the Boston field office full-time, so it made perfect sense for him to be in Atlanta—Jack decided not to think about it.

The FBI had always had their own, weird reasons for doing things back when Jack had been with the Agency, and it hadn’t made sense to him then. Five Star definitely wasn’t paying him enough to try to decipher the Bureau’s decision-making logic now. It seemed to be working out well for this case, because Morales had a good head on his shoulders and his organized crime experience would probably get them far. Jack would just be grateful and leave it at that.

Norah insisted on sitting with them all to discuss the situation because “I don’t like being in the dark, and who’s going to take care of my boy when you’re all fussing around?”

Jack wanted to object. After all, hadn’t he literally savedher boyfrom the situation in question, while giving him the kiss of his life?

Morales stepped in before Jack could stick his foot in his mouth. “That’s actually a good idea, ma’am. It’s always good to get someone else’s perspective, and you’re around here all day. You’ll see things we’ve missed. Have you noticed any unusual visitors or any activity that’s outside the norm around here lately?”

She snorted. “Not up here. Security’s good. But the doorman, Freddie, has had to chase away six strange men in the past month alone. And he’s just the day man. I don’t know the night man, on account of having the sense to not go prowling around after dark.” She gave Matt a pointed look.

“I’m still young, Gram.” Matt looked up at the ceiling.

“You can be as young as you please, but someone is still trying to kill you. Why don’t you try one of those dating apps I keep getting ads for? At least then the fine young men at the FBI could vet the candidates a bit.”

Matt’s face turned scarlet. “Be right back, going to go die of shame.” He fled for his bedroom.

Morales seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face.

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