The Hunted
By DAVE THORPE

Miguel sat secure in the familiar gondola. He missed Hector and their trips to Sunrise, their mad dashes down the black-diamond slopes. His death had been a huge mistake. But narcotrafficantes are a dime a dozen in Campeche, Mexico.

Taking on the physically weakened Francisco Olivares, however, was another matter, though it had been a good business decision. How was Miguel supposed to know they would come up with a cure for chronic myeloid leukemia and that Francisco would be among the first cured of the stupid disease? Now the hunter had become the hunted.

Connor O'Brien, the ski instructor, hadn't shown up at the lodge. He had called and left a message for Yasmín. Connor was a nice muchacho and Miguel trusted him. There were very few men Miguel could trust anymore.

A man wearing a ski mask entered the gondola. Even though Miguel felt he had nothing to fear from Francisco this far north, one really never knew, given the business Miguel was in.

The man lifted his mask. "Hola, Miguel. Le asusta?" It was the instructor.

"Un poco, Connor. It's too warm for a mask and you gave me a little, um, fright. But you speak Spanish?"

"Poquito. I didn't want to speak my poor Spanish in front of Yasmín." The gondola started and stopped as new passengers entered the trailing gondolas.

"My papa taught me," Connor continued. He reached down into his sock and brought out a small, five-shot revolver. Miguel looked resigned rather than surprised.

"You see, before mama married Hector, her name was O'Brien. It's not uncommon that people who do business in both countries have two families. Papa took good care of us, and now he's gone thanks to you. I'm going to kill you soon on Francisco's orders. But I like little Miguelito and I'm crazy about Yasmín. If you do the right thing they'll be fine."

Miguel understood. "What you want me to do?"

"If I shoot, I might be arrested," said Connor. "Then they must die. But the suicide of some narcotrafficante is no big deal, no? Do some kindness for your family, Miguel. When we get to the top height, jump."

As the gondola climbed, Connor kept the gun level. Miguel said nothing. Finally he pointed for Miguel to open the door. At the apex, Miguel stood and paused.

"You have a question?" Connor asked. "You can say a quick prayer if you want." Miguel smiled briefly then sprang out into a swan dive. Connor stood and closed the doors, then dialed Yasmín on her cell phone.

There would be ski lessons today after all.


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