The Lion Killer (The Dark Continent Chronicles) Read Online Free Page B

watching him, he looked uncomfortable. Turner should have offered more information about his daughter-in-law, but he didn't.
    “Folks, this has been the highlight of our cruise. I can't tell you when I've had a more enjoyable evening.”
    “It was wonderful,” concurred Helen.
    “Rigby, I need a favor.”
    “After that, how could I say no?”
    “How about coming onboard for lunch tomorrow? I'd like to pick your brain. I was serious when I said I wanted to do an African hunt. Let's say we make it around noon.” Max knew his compliments would make his invitation unavoidable.
    “See you tomorrow,” Rigby answered.
    ***
    Later that night, in the privacy of their stateroom, Helen quizzed her husband. “Did you find that woman attractive?”
    “You mean Molly?”
    “Don't play games with me. You know which woman I mean. I think I've read about Turner. He's a personal injury lawyer.”
    “That Tucker was a wanker.” He used curled hand movements to illustrate the remark. “Was it me or did I see Turner drooling over his daughter-in-law?” he asked.
    “You have a dirty mind. Don't you dare let him talk you into taking him on safari.”
    “My dear, it'll never happen. He might bring the Dodges. Helen, he had to be lying about that wine costing a thousand dollars a bottle. There's no way.”
    “Come here, my sweet African naive,” she whispered, snuggling next to him.
    ***
    At noon the next day, Rigby tossed a line to Kevin, who secured it to the Liti-Gator's stern. Max was waiting for him at the top of the stairs. He was wearing sweat pants and a sleeveless tee shirt. The fantail of the yacht had been turned into an outdoor gymnasium. Exercise machines with pulleys and counter weights lined the walls. A blue wrestling mat had been rolled out.
    Max wiped his forehead with a towel and handed it to a steward. “You're just in time to watch our martial-arts exhibition. Bob's a master of karate and tae kwon do. He was a ranked boxer, before I bailed him out of a problem he had with the Miami police. Kevin warms him up before he works me over.” Max nodded at Bob, who was busy stretching.
    Turner's staged bravado was therapy for his small-man complex. Croxford on the other hand, reeked of masculinity. His jet-black hair and honest blue eyes irritated Turner. Turner considered using his wealth to knock him down a few pegs, but sensed it would be a waste of time.
    “Kevin doesn't look very enthusiastic,” said Rigby, moving to get a better look.
    “He's fine. You look like a weightlifter. How much do you weigh?”
    “I reckon about a hundred kilograms. As far as lifting barbells, I got my muscles the old-fashioned way—manual labor.”
    “Rigby, my father died at fifty. My two younger brothers are dead, both from heart attacks. When you talked about waiting until next year to go hunting, I may not have a next year.”
    “There are lots of great professional hunters in Africa.”
    “You're the best PH in the business. I always insist on the best.”
    “I'm not the best professional hunter in southern Africa.”
    “Modesty becomes you. I've been doing my homework. I know your father was a professional hunter as was his father. He named his four sons after gun companies. One brother was named Smith, another one's Wesson and another Browning. I guess your preferred weapon has to be a .416 Rigby. I know you were a Selous Scout in the Rhodesian military. And that you led clandestine operations into Mozambique and Botswana. You're fluent in Swahili as well as Afrikaans, and you speak four or five other African dialects.” Max smiled at Rigby and continued. “The Internet's a marvelous invention.”
    Rigby heard a thump. He turned around and saw Kevin on his knees. He seemed dazed as Bob danced around him. “Are you sure Kevin's all right?”
    “He's fine,” Max said, without looking. Max stood up and blocked Rigby's view. I've tried pity and flattery. Now let's try greed, he thought. “You know, my friends say I