Price of a Bounty (Reliance on Citizens Makes Us Great!) (2 page)

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 me around. It was
time to redirect the conversation.

“What
do you do for a living, Richard?” I already knew the answer to
that. Richard was the vice president of his father’s investment
firm. He’d never had to really work for anything in his life.

“I
work with investments.” His voice was cool and calm, but the
look in his eyes was one of growing suspicion.

I
stretched my arms and yawned. “It’s getting late, and I’ll
have to get up early for work tomorrow. I should be going. Thank
you very much for dinner and for your company.” As I stood, I
made sure to stumble.

Richard
jumped up to steady me. “Please, let my driver take you home.”
He stood and helped me with my coat, then paused to pay the bill and
place a call to his chauffeur.

I
reached for his arm as we walked out the door together, and Richard
led me to a sleek silver automobile that pulled up in front of the
Café de Rivoli. I climbed in, impressed with the vehicle.
This piece of old techno looked like it wouldn’t break down on the
ride home. The upkeep must cost a fortune!

I
simply said, “Nice.” Then I snuggled up next to Richard
and pretended to fall asleep.

“Madeline?”

I
made sure my breathing was even and let out a little sigh.

“We’d
better not take her back in this condition,” he said to the
driver. “Take us home.”

We
soon arrived at an apartment that had been rented to a gardener named
Oren Johnson. I wondered briefly if Richard’s father knew
about this apartment. Probably not. I let him wake me just enough
to guide me into the building. He led me to the elevator which
whisked us up to the eighth floor.

When
Richard opened the door to the apartment, I stumbled directly to a
black leather couch and fell upon it. He picked me up and carried me
into the bedroom. He gently placed me on the bed, removed my coat
and shoes, then covered me with a downy comforter. Quietly, he
returned to the living room and left the door ajar.

I
held still and kept my eyes closed while I remembered the layout of
the room. The door to the living room was just ahead and to the
left. A large window that overlooked the cityscape was off to my
right. A dark mahogany dresser stretched along the wall across from
the bed and next to the door. The entrance to a large closet was on
the far left next to a door to the master bath.

I’d
cracked the safe in the closet a couple of days ago when I’d
done a preliminary check of the apartment. The stolen gats were
there, but it had been too soon. The money had certainly been
tempting, but that wasn’t the whole job.

I
heard Richard’s voice from the living room, one side of a
conversation. Only the Elite could afford high techno devices such
as personal transceivers, televiews and home security systems. I
listened carefully.

“No,
you shouldn’t come over tonight… I’m just tired… Well alright,
if you’re already in the neighborhood.” He moved toward the
bedroom and closed the door.

Immediately,
I threw back the deep blue comforter, climbed out of bed and opened
the safe. Inside was a handgun – guns weren’t my style. In my
opinion, they left too much evidence behind, so I didn’t even touch
it. I also found a gold pendant with a ruby, beautiful and
expensive. Neither were what I’d come for, so I closed and locked
the safe. I quickly scanned the rest of the closet. Where had he
put the money, and why had he moved it?

I
checked the master bath, a room I’d only glanced into before. I
didn’t really expect to find the gats hidden in there, but I needed
to make sure. The room was classy and clean. The decor, black and
white with polished silver hardware. And also, a whirlpool bath.
I’d heard of them but this was the first one I’d ever seen.

A
knock from across the apartment caught my attention, followed by a
woman’s voice, sugary sweet. “Hi, Oren! How was work?”

I
moved closer to the bedroom door so that I wouldn’t miss anything. I
guessed he was talking to Rose, his current girlfriend, an Elite
socialite. I only knew of her because of my surveillance. She
really wasn’t my concern. I remained quiet. It would be best
that she not find me here.

Whatever
they were doing, they did quietly for quite awhile. Then Richard
said, “Is your driver waiting?”

“No,
silly. Then my father would know I was here. My driver is still
with the car back at Angelina’s.”

“How
did you?”

“I
gave him the slip, and I walked. It really wasn’t that far. But now
that you mention it, it is late. Maybe I should stay. You know, a
girl shouldn’t be out on the streets all alone, especially at this
time of night.”

“And
have your father call the police…again? And anyway, I’ve had a
long day. I’m exhausted. I’ll call my friend, Eberhardt. He can
give you a ride home.”

“Have
you thought about what I said? About getting a car of your own, now
that you have the means?”

“No,
not yet.”

Interesting!
Why hadn’t he told her his real name or that he had a car as well as
a chauffeur?
There seems to be more to you, Mr. Burke, than even
I’ve uncovered.

“Wait,
Oren. There is one more tiny thing…I need a little cash for the
rent,” Rose said.

“How
much do you need?”

“3,000
gats, and I’d rather not ask my father for it.” As the sound
of her footsteps approached the door, I backed up and moved toward
the bed. I could hide, but then Richard would wonder why I wasn’t
where he’d left me.

“Wait.
Rose. I don’t keep that much in the apartment, but I can get it for
you. I’ll stop by tomorrow afternoon.”

Did
she really believe he was a gardener who wore a suit, and who had
enough money that he could loan her 3,000 gats for the rent?

“Oren,
I have a fabulous idea,” she gushed. “I could move in
with you! Then we wouldn’t have to pay twice the rent, and I could
help you relax after a stressful day in the sun.”

“Something
to talk about another time,” Richard said gently. “Let
me walk you to the car.”

“Couldn’t
you just borrow your friend’s car and drive me home yourself?”

“He
usually doesn’t let anyone else drive it, and as I’ve already
explained, I’m exhausted. I shouldn’t drive right now.”

When
I heard the front door close, I cracked open the bedroom door. The
plush cream carpeting gave way to a smooth polished hardwood floor.
I’d have to step quietly. Quickly, I searched for the missing gats.

In
the front closet, I found Richard’s pin-striped business suit. Had
he transformed into Oren the gardener for Rose?

I
checked through his desk and found an account booklet for Richard
Burke III. The missing money wasn’t listed as a recent deposit.

Could
he have more than one account? No. He has another apartment.

I
hurried back to the bedroom and closed the door behind me just as
Richard reentered the apartment. I returned to the bed and covered
myself with the comforter. Then I waited for the apartment to settle
into the quiet of the night.

My
job had become more difficult. My plan had been to make contact and
convince Richard to take me home. I knew he wouldn’t risk
taking me to his other apartment. That was good because in addition
to Elaine Ramsey hiring me to take out Oren, not Richard, the stolen
gats were also here, or at least they had been here the last time I’d
checked. Then, I planned to kill him in his sleep and leave with the
money as well as anything else of value. The only loose end would
have been the driver, Eberhardt. He knew what I looked like, but I
wasn’t worried about that. I was skilled at transforming my
looks.

Now,
I needed a new plan. How could I retrieve the money from Richard’s
other apartment, the one with high techno security, yet kill him here
in “Oren’s” apartment? It had to be that way or
Ramsey would know. As soon as it hit the newsvids, she would realize
that Oren was Richard, a member of the Elite. If I killed him there
she would know that I’d held back information. That wouldn’t
do. I guessed I’d have to convince Richard to keep me around
longer, to trust me, until I could find a way.

I
stretched and wondered where he would sleep tonight. Most men would
have chosen the bedroom with me, but Richard had been such a
gentleman throughout the evening that I suspected he would sleep on
the couch. Time passed. Richard didn’t return.

-Guy-

Who
is Madeline?

A
mysterious young woman recently entered my life. I noticed her the
second she walked into the café and was pleasantly surprised
when she walked directly to my table. I immediately wondered why –
why had she come to me? Did she know who I really was? If so, what
kind of help was she seeking? She introduced herself as Madeline.

Madeline
had the most amazing green eyes. She was well dressed yet looked
hungry. Despite her clothing, I knew she wasn’t Elite. I
could also sense that she needed something, possibly food, probably
something else. She must know, but who directed her to me?

I
ordered my favorite, Chicken Kiev, a side of mixed vegetables and a
bottle of Chardonnay. Then I hesitated. She really did look hungry.

“Would
you like the same?” If she saw that I was willing and able to
offer this, it might put her at ease. I was well aware that asking
for help could be a daunting task, and I wanted to make this as easy
as possible for her.

But,
she didn’t ask. Not then, and not as the conversation
continued. In between topics, Madeline seemed to be studying me.
Was she trying to decide if she could trust me? I wanted to ask,
“Why did you approach me?” but instead said, “What
do you do, Madeline? How do you spend your days?” Maybe her
answer to that would provide some clues.

When
she asked, “What do you do for a living, Richard?” I
realized she wasn’t going to ask for help. So why was she
there, at my table? She had obviously sought me out specifically.
But why?

I
did discover the answer to my question but not until later that
night. Madeline drank too quickly, or pretended to do so, and I
ended up taking her home to see how this would all play out. I meant
to keep a close eye on her.

Unfortunately,
I hadn’t anticipated Rose. Neither her friends nor her family
knew we were seeing each other. After Rose left, I waited to be
certain that Madeline was sound asleep before I opened the safe. I
could help Rose a little. It was the least I could do before ending
the relationship.

All
of the money was gone, every last gat. So that’s what Madeline
had wanted, and she took the opportunity when I walked Rose to
Eberhardt’s apartment. But, why was she still here? I
immediately checked her purse and coat pockets and discovered a set
of keys, an ID issued to Madeline Jones, 24 gats, two tubes of
lipstick, a travel toothbrush and a couple of… I shook my head.
Was that how she made a living? That and stealing?

Why
did she carry two tubes of lipstick? Different colors perhaps? I
opened them. Small metal rods poked out of one, a lock pick kit.

Who
is Madeline? How did she know about the money? Where did she put
it? Why is she still here? More important, what else does she know?
I couldn’t leave her unattended, not now.

As
I watched her sleep, I replayed the evening in my mind. I wondered
if any of the details she’d shared about her life and family
were true. When I’d asked about her father, her reaction had seemed
genuine, but what about the rest? Did she really work for the
Becketts? Should their estate be a future target? We could always
use more funding, and I was sure I could uncover a good reason for
Lance Beckett to “donate” to the cause.

My
thoughts drifted back to Madeline, to her long wavy black hair and
her bright emerald green eyes, eyes that had seemed familiar. I’d
been serious when I’d asked her if we’d met before, but I didn’t
recognize her name.