Read Price of a Bounty (Reliance on Citizens Makes Us Great!) Online
Authors: S. L. Wallace
Price
of a Bounty
S.
L. Wallace
This book is
a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are
either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or
persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright ©
2011 by Sarah Yoho
First
electronic edition: August 2011
All rights
reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed,
transmitted, or stored in a database or retrieval system in any form
or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including
photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission
from the publisher.
Cover art
created by Extended Imagery
Published by
S. L. Wallace
This book is
also available in print at
CreateSpace
and at retailers everywhere.
For
Jim and Alyssa
Thank you
to my family and friends for their continual support and
encouragement.
A special
thank you to Benton Sartore, Kerstin Broockmann, Ashlee Bishop, Tim
Bishop, Judith Kaplan, Monica John and James Yoho for providing
honest and insightful critiques.
Table
of Contents
Scott
- Introducing Elaine Ramsey
Keira
- Double Crossed for Sure
Prologue
I
lifted the pillow and checked for a pulse. Vacant eyes gazed at the
ceiling. Yes, he was gone. My work here, done.
I
pulled on my black leather gloves and wiped down every hard surface
I’d touched. Not that it was necessary, but one could never be too
careful in this line of work.
As
long as it looked like he had died of natural causes, no one would
push for an investigation. And without a pending investigation, the
Gov wouldn’t waste resources or money on anyone, not even a
member of the Elite.
He
had no immediate family, and my client certainly wouldn’t say
anything. Even the staff would be long gone by the time anyone from
the Gov arrived, especially if I left them some good pickings.
People
look out for themselves – it’s the nature of the beast
inside.
They’d
pick through his belongings, and then disappear. Someone would come
looking, eventually. The Gov would send in a cleanup crew who, in
addition to removing the body, would sell off any remaining assets.
All proceeds would go to “benefit the Realm” which really
just meant that Gov officials would receive a nice bonus.
My
heels clicked on the white and gray marble tiles as I walked through
the front hall. It didn’t matter whether or not anyone heard me
leave. They all knew he’d brought a woman home. I ran my hand
through my long wavy red hair. It was time for a change.
-Keira-
Café
de Rivoli
We
show one face to our family and another to the world.
Who are we
really? Who am I, and who do I want to be?
I’d been trying to
figure that out ever since my father died.
My
thoughts were interrupted as my target moved into view and approached
the Café de Rivoli, a classy restaurant on the northwest side.
Small apple trees covered in tiny white flowers surrounded the outer
dining area.
The
man followed the hostess inside. I walked just to the entrance and
watched from the doorway. Previously, all I’d seen of him was from
video surveillance and from a distance as I’d tailed him. Tonight,
he wore a black pin-striped business suit. He was tall, just over
six feet, and had short light brown hair. It was shorter now than it
had been in the vid. I retreated back to the sidewalk and waited for
a few minutes. Then it was time.
“I
see my party,” I said quietly to the hostess as I walked past.
“Hello,
is this seat taken?” I asked, looking straight into his eyes.
I could swim in the deep blue of those eyes.
Stop! No
distractions, Keira, not while you’re working.
“It’s so
busy in here tonight. There’s no place to sit.”
I
removed my stylish pale green raincoat to reveal a flowing black
skirt and pale pink top. With my left hand, I brushed back some
loose strands of wavy black hair and flashed my most dazzling smile.
“It’s
not a problem.” He gestured to the empty chair across the
table. “Have we met before?”
“Does
that line really work for you?” I asked with a wink.
“I
have no idea what you mean.” He straightened the knot of his
navy blue tie.
“Separate
orders please,” I said when the waitress arrived. “I’ll
have the soup of the day and an iced tea.” I needed to order
light. The prices at this establishment were outrageous, especially
for any dish containing meat. Meat was reserved for the Elite and
the military, and by not ordering any, he would likely, and
correctly, assume that I was neither.
“The
orders can go on one bill,” he insisted. “Chicken Kiev,
a side of mixed vegetables and a bottle of your best Chardonnay.”
He paused, and then said, “Would you like the same?”
I
looked up in surprise. Chardonnay came from Mediterra, and all
imports from there were very expensive, ever since the last war. Who
did he think I was? No one would pay that much for a stranger’s
dinner without expecting something in return, but I would play this
his way for now.
“All
right.”
He
returned his attention to the waitress. “Please cancel her
previous order.” He smiled at me and waited for the waitress
to leave before he continued. “For whom do I have the pleasure
of buying dinner?”
“Madeline
Jones.” I reached across the table and offered my hand as I
gave him the name on the fake ID I always carried. He reciprocated
with a polite handshake. It was the hand of an executive, smooth and
soft, not the hand 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.