Hunting Games

The stream of weekend travelers and businessmen was never ending. Surprisingly, Christopher found that watching other people scurry about in their daily lives was pretty relaxing; he had just dozed off when he heard a deep voice bellow his name.

Christopher turned toward the voice and discovered a man standing a short distance away. His arms were folded behind his back and he stood board stiff. The dark blue suit and hat identified him as a chauffeur.

"Mr. Gilbert?" he asked. "I beg your pardon if I have the wrong man."

Christopher stood and reached out to shake the man's hand. "I'm Christopher Gilbert," he said. "You the man I'm supposed to meet?"

His condescending smile was accompanied by a curt nod. "I'm only the driver," he said. "Please, don't ask me anything beyond that."

Christopher's brow furrowed in sudden doubt upon the man's abrupt words. "Well, lead the way," he heard himself say.

A black stretch limousine was waiting for them at the main entrance, along with the cabs and busses that sat in the cool Oregon air. The chauffer paused under the overhanging portico to open the back door for Christopher. "May I take your bag?"

Christopher lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Sure, I guess so." He lifted the bag, and the other man moved to place it in the trunk before taking his place in the driver's seat.

The chauffer lowered the electric glass partition that separated them and turned to speak to the passenger. "Make yourself at home. The bar and refrigerator are fully stocked. We have about an hour ride ahead of us."