She'd just been kidnapped by a dunce. "Charlie, you dumb shit," said the driver amiably. "Can't you count? That's $1,200, so just take twelve of the f...fties - that's your share." The dunce counted out $600 for himself, passing up the rest to Carl, who although not exactly an Einstein, was considerably more intelligent than his buddy. The two of them had been friends since grade 9, which was their last year in school. They'd worked various odd jobs - as bouncers, security guards, doing oil. The thought of a missed shot never entered his mind and rarely happened. And as for his retrieval abilities I can only recall a select few times dove hunting that were challenging to any one that he didn’t return with the game. The morning hunt would slip into a mid-afternoon run up wood duck alley. A routine that became a highlight of the days hunt. When the birds had pretty much quit flying in the morning and the day grew brighter. Then the search and find would come into play. In our. More

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