Price of a Bounty - By S. L. Wallace Page 0,1

of a gardener, though I was certain I had the right man.

“Richard Burke,” he said.

Yes, Richard Burke “the third” was his legal name. However, I knew that he used at least two others, Oren Johnson for example. Had I not discovered that Oren Johnson was Richard Burke III, we would not be having this conversation. I had nothing against gardeners who stole from their employers. That would make him the same as me, just another member of the Working Class.

We began to talk but paused when the wine arrived. Richard poured the drinks.

“Thank you.” I picked up my glass and took a sip. “You were saying that you’ve lived in the city for quite a while?”

“Yes, for the past 11 years. I was 16 when we moved to Tkaron. It was during my turbulent adolescence, and I was more than a little upset about leaving all of my friends. But when your father gets a better paying job in a big city with more opportunities…well, I didn’t have much of a choice. It ended up being a wise move.”

I took another sip and considered him. Why had he gone undercover to steal from Elaine Ramsey, widow of the late Curtis Ramsey? When the Elite stole from each other, it was usually a maneuver meant to boost one’s own interests or to take down the competition. But Burke Investments wasn’t in direct competition with Ramsey Corps, and Richard hadn’t stolen enough to bring them down. Burke Investments was, in fact, what it appeared to be, an investments firm, with no ties to Ramsey Corps.

Maybe Richard had something against the military? Ramsey Corps was best known for their advanced genetic screening methods that were vital to the success of the Terenian military.

Usually my targets weren’t so complex. But did that even matter? After all, he’s still Elite.

“What about you, Madeline? Have you lived here long?”

I directed my attention back to the conversation. “All my life. My mother was from the area. She met my father when he moved here for school. They fell in love, and since they both loved the city too, they stayed. They always said it was prettier then and cleaner.”

I finished my first glass of wine, and Richard poured me a second as our food arrived.

“What’s your father’s line of work?” he asked.

“Was…my father was an architect.” I’d learned it was easier to remember lies when I intertwined them with the truth. My father really was an architect. He’d designed buildings of beauty and grace. Though time and pollution had done their work, the buildings remained a testament to the achievements of our citizens, a dream of what our city could once again become. My parents had such wonderful dreams for us.

I glanced away as I remembered my father and mourned the loss of those dreams. If I could convince Richard to worry about me, if only a little, it may be a way in. The tears in the corners of my eyes were genuine as I thought about my father. He never should have died that way. There was no reason for it!

Richard studied me intently. “I’m sorry.” Then he tactfully changed the subject. “What do you do, Madeline? How do you spend your days?”

“I’m a maid at the Beckett estate,” I lied. “I clean mostly, but sometimes I’m asked to run errands or watch the girls when the nanny is out.”

The Beckett’s were exceedingly wealthy, and Lance Beckett was as corrupt as a man could be. He would do whatever it took to keep his social standing and had earned himself many enemies along the way. It was a wonder I hadn’t been hired to take him out yet.

I’d almost finished my second glass of wine. Richard picked up the bottle and offered me some more. “How long have you worked for the Becketts?”

He was fishing for information, and again I wondered why. And how did the Becketts fit in?

Keep your head in the game. If Beckett is your way in, then so be it.

I drank my third glass of wine more quickly as I replied, “I’ve been working there just under two years.” That was long enough for me to have accumulated some important information.

“And do you live on site?”

“Of course.” I could pull this off. My sister worked at the Beckett estate. I could offer as many details as he needed, but now wasn’t the time. If I gave Richard too much information too quickly, there would be no reason for him to keep