I stared down the barrel of Ben’s pistol. Why wasn’t I dead?
“Where is it?” He jabbed with the gun.
So, Ben was double-crossing Mr. Ng.
“It’s in Canada.”
“Canada? That’s an awfully big country.”
I smiled. “That’s why you need me. Partners?” I held out a hand.
“Partners.” Ben shook my hand.
I reached for my gun. “No, you stay unarmed.” I shrugged. He needed me.
48 hours later we landed at Mirabel. We hit the suburbs by midnight.
It was snowing; from sweating to shivering in 2 days.
The house contained my real partner, not the attaché case.
— — —
Word count = 100
Note – This is a continuation of last week’s story, On the Run. Come on Rochelle, why did you have to make it so hard with this choice of photos? ;)
Note 2 – I used to be an Air Traffic Controller and handed planes off to Montreal. At that time, we called the airport Mirabel. When I looked it up, the name had changed! OK, so I still call DCA “National” and will never call it “Reagan”, so I will always call Montreal “Mirabel”…