Page 57 of Vice

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Viper

One of the first things I learned when I became a chief enforcer was that having good servants on your side meant everything. Because people always treated the servant as invisible. Someone too dumb to go somewhere and get a more prestigious job or profession and, thus, someone who didn’t need to be feared.

They’re only partly wrong. There aren’t a lot of people who if they are able, capable, and have access to less stressful and more prestigious professions who won’t do it. Which is why finding someone who does have that ability, capability, and access but have the humility and patience required to do a job like longtime serving in order to spy and get information is valuable. It’s why after Dele, my more useful and valuable ally is Eileen. A former CIA agent willing to pretend she’s an estate manager, nothing more than a glorified butler as far as most are concerned, in the long road toward revenge for her friend.

It's why as soon as Dele points her out, I know Madelyn is the one who’s going to take us right up to the front door of that old mine so we can see what’s there.

This town may be small and not have any seedy bars. But it does have one diner. One place to get a meal if you don’t want to cook or ride five hours into the nearest larger city. One place to get a meal if this a stop passing through on the way to the next larger city. The perfect place to observe and scope out any potential trespassers.

I should have realized it as soon as we arrived. But I’ve felt off ever since we arrived in this stupid town in that stupid, raggedy car Wyan managed to get. All because this town reminds me of the small, barely on the map town I grew up in before I was taken from my mother because she was a lost cause.

God, I hated that place.

But now isn’t the time to brood and reminisce.

“You think she knows?” Wyan asks.

Meaning, has she figured out we’re not the people we say we are.

“Maybe.”

“Are we making the first move or…?” Dele trails off, keeps her eyes on the kitchen and waiting for Madelyn to come back out even though for all appearances, all her attention is on Wyan and I.

“I don’t have time for her to watch and lay a trap. We’re moving first,” I decide.

Madelyn is likely armed, and judging by the way she flits gracefully about the room, probably a decently skilled fight. Sure, I could write it off as her gaining this grace from serving customers day in and day out, but her stance and footing is too precise. Reminds me too much of certain fighting steps and styles to be a coincidence. More than likely, she applied her fighting skills to her grace as a server.

We wait until everyone’s gone, and it’s only us left. Madelyn pretends not to notice or care, but if she’s the person we think she is, no doubt she’s watching us. Wondering why we haven’t left yet after everyone else is long gone.

“Hey, Madelyn,” Dele calls.

She pretends to jump as though she wasn’t perfectly aware we were still here.

“You all are still here? I’m glad you like the place, but it’s closing time. Past it, actually.”

“We just wanted to ask you a question. About the town.”

“Shoot?”

Dele nods her head in a random direction, appearing every bit the overly curious traveler when she says, “Hey. What are they doing with that old mine not too far from here? Saw some activity around there as we were passing by on the way to Adrian’s dad’s.”

It’s a lie. The mine is way out of the way of the place Wyan is staying. Madelyn knows that too. But as far as she’s concerned, maybe we’re just lying because we’re a supposedly young, married couple visiting family in a small boring town and went looking for excitement somewhere we shouldn’t have been.

Either way, if we’re right, she’ll be onto us.

“What kind of activity?”

Dele shrugs. “Thought I saw some kids. But maybe I was wrong about that.”

Madelyn shrugs. “Probably just prison labor. Not uncommon for one of the prisons to contract out their prisoners to whatever place bought that old mine. Because they certainly don’t hire people here for it. Otherwise, maybe we’d all be a lot richer ‘round here.”

“No,” Dele insists. “Pretty sure I saw children. Do they coordinate visits or field trips or something?”

“If you insist that’s what you saw, maybe,” Madelyn says with a shrug.

There’s a certain edge to her now, though. The edge of a predator cataloging their prey. Deciding if they’re going to bother pouncing. Because just Dele’s innocent comment is enough to have to have her killed. In this business, the wrong person seeing the wrong thing in innocence is way more dangerous than the wrong person seeing the wrong thing because they were looking for it. The latter knows to be discreet.

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