by Bill Brewer
Looking up from the screen of her phone, Lindavi said, “I may have been your whore, but I am not your therapist.” She pointed a finger at him. “I don’t want to know anything more about you killing people.” She lifted her phone. “I have to go.”
At the door to the cabana, she stopped to give him one last suspicious look before escaping into the night.
Diegert pulled the condom off his dick and tossed it in the trash. He pulled the blankets over him. He felt foolish, about wanting to connect with her, to share his struggle. She obviously didn’t want anything to do with him once the sex was over. With further contemplation, he realized he was truly alone with his discreet occupation. Tell someone with whom you’re trying to form a friendship that you’re an assassin, and it’s pretty certain they’ll want nothing to do with you.
Lying in bed, he heard the long, low guttural bellow of the male lion echo across the dark savannah. A powerful reminder that he was in the territory of a mighty king who ruled with tooth and claw. He was restless for quite a while before falling asleep.
CHAPTER 26
In the morning, Diegert filled his plate from the sumptuous banquet served in the Lodge. He sat down with his breakfast just as Klaus Panzer entered the room. His father came right over to him. “Guten Morgen.” He sat next to Diegert. “That looks like a meal fit for a man about to have one of the greatest adventures of his life.”
Diegert slid a bite of eggs Benedict into his mouth.
Panzer leaned in to ask, “Did you enjoy your company last night?”
Chewing his mouthful, Diegert nodded.
“I must tell you that I had the company of two last night. There’s nothing like the intensity of a threesome.”
Swallowing Diegert replied, “Well I’m sure you enjoyed it more than they did.”
Panzer’s consternation played across his furrowed brow as he stood and went to the banquet table.
Diegert used his fork to break off a piece of French toast and watched as the tall gray haired man greeted everyone he passed with a smile and that German, “Guten Morgen.”
Upon return, Panzer said, “Eat well, my son, for today we face the most formidable of opponents. We will hunt a full-grown Black Mane lion.”
Diegert thought about the beast he heard in the night. The innate power of that animal to command his kingdom with a lack of fear of any of its inhabitants, except one.
“That sounds interesting.” Diegert nodded.
“Interesting?! It will be a lot more than just interesting. When I shot my lion it was the most exciting and exhilarating experience of my life. The trophy is one of my proudest possessions. Taking down the king of the beasts puts you on the top tier of the throne of humanity.” Just before inserting a big forkful of pancakes, Panzer said, “I want you up there sharing that place with me.”
Again, Diegert nodded, this time with uncertainty As he did on the flight from Lagos, this new father of his was bypassing twenty-six years, Diegert’s entire life, to instantly arrive at the much desired, loving Father-Son relationship that so many hope for, but which takes a lifetime to build.
“Let’s finish eating and get out to the truck,” said Panzer as he sliced his sausage link.
The Land Rover they were taking into the bush was dark green and equipped with an elevating roof so one could stand up and still be covered. The massive tires gave it extra ground clearance and it was tricked out with GPS and satellite navigation systems that allowed communication with trackers in the field. Their guide, James, was a tall man with salt and pepper hair and a trim beard. He was quick to smile and happy to serve.
Upon greeting Diegert, James said, “Ah, you are the prodigal son who has been returned to your father.”
Diegert looked to see Panzer, now donning a broad brimmed hunter’s hat smiling at them. “Yes, I suppose I am,” said Diegert as the shaking of hands concluded.
“This is your first hunt in Africa isn’t it?”
“I haven’t gone hunting at all in a very long time.”
“No problem. You will succeed, I guarantee it,” said the tall African seeking to reassure Diegert that he was being guided by the very best. With all their gear loaded into the truck, the three of them took their seats, and James accelerated into the bush.
Even the best Land Rover, once it leaves the dirt roads, delivers a rough ride as it crosses the African landscape. What may look like a smooth expanse of grassland is, in fact, rugged terrain producing a jarring ride that will rattle the bones and shake loose the teeth. Even the heavily cushioned seats in a Land Rover are not enough to make the trip painless.
Diegert and Panzer endured this travel for three hours. Cresting a knoll, James stopped the truck, pointing out a pack of hyenas feasting on a freshly killed zebra. The pack was oblivious as they tore apart the carcass, soaking themselves in the fifteen liters of blood that flows through an adult zebra. Diegert was transfixed by the scene, the primal need to feed and the violence with which these animals transferred the life of their prey into their own bodies was alarming. Panzer too was mesmerized by the vicious competition for the most succulent body parts. Looking to the sky, Diegert noticed the vultures circling. These meat-eating birds did nothing to contribute to the kill, yet they thrived through the killing of others. Gazing upon Panzer, Diegert recognized his father as a vulture. Benefitting from death, while letting others do the killing. The birds look rather stately as they soar high above in the sky. Close up, their pink-skinned heads look hideous. Diegert thought that Panzer also appeared dignified and classy when considered from a distance. Closely observed, the man had his ugly side, there to be seen when you realized what you were really looking at.
“Enough?” asked James. While Diegert and Panzer both nodded their heads, James put the Land Rover into gear, and the truck lurched forward over the uneven surface of the vast savannah. In order to reach the destination James had selected for the hunt, they needed to drive another hour. Along the way, they saw giraffes, wildebeests, impalas and a large herd of elephants. James, though, was seeking the recently claimed home of a pride of lions. The spot was on private land, upon which Panzer had purchased the right to hunt. The land bordered the Maasai Mara National Reserve where hunting was strictly prohibited. The lions had crossed a small spring-fed stream, leaving the reserve to set up their whelping grounds for their young cubs. Outside the Reserve, the lions were game and the license Panzer had bought gave him permission to kill.
James stopped the Land Rover, raised the roof and stood in the middle of the vehicle. Through his binoculars, he observed the pride. All the adults were either lounging or fast asleep. Eight lionesses were arrayed in a haphazard circle in which six little cubs alternated between wrestling with one another and biting the tails, paws, and tits of the adult females. Beyond them, outlined in shade, was the large male of the pride. He was sleeping soundly with his ribs rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Even with just the simple motion of ventilation he was impressive. His muscles rippled as he lifted his head when one of the cubs nipped his tail. His restful calm projected his dominion and his full mane looked as though it had recently been combed. The most striking thing though was its black color. A truly black mane on an African lion was rare. The contrast between the tawny color of the body and the black mane distinguished him from his harem of lionesses.
“We have found him,” said James as he ducked back into the Land Rover’s cabin. Exiting the vehicle he stepped to the back of the Rover, opened the tail doors and lifted the gun case. Moving forward he passed Diegert and Panzer on his way to the hood of the truck. They stood together as James input the code which opened the case, revealing the length of the rifle they would use today. The firearm was long, sleek and black. The stock was made from a composite plastic while the presence of the bolt handle along with the absence of a magazine receptacle, indicated its firing mechanism was single action. A feature that increased the gun’s accuracy but required manual re-loading between shots. Diegert leaned in t
o look at the stamp plate: Whitaker LG 650 - .375 H&H mag. From behind his shoulder, he heard Panzer say, “We manufacture this weapon.”
Diegert nodded approvingly.
James lifted the rifle out of its foam cradle and affixed the scope, which was an incredible piece of technology. It used a built-in microprocessor and integrated cameras to capture a digital image of the target. The computer adjusts the reticle based upon automatically calculated distance, angle and wind speed placing the point of impact squarely on the target. It also has a zoom function and the scope recorded video of everything it saw, allowing the kill shot to be reviewed and posted online.
Seeing the device James was affixing to the rifle, Panzer pointed it out to Diegert. “This is one of the most advanced pieces of hunting technology we’ve ever produced. When you look through the eyepiece you’ll be amazed at the HD image.”
Diegert looked at the scope, which James was tightening to its mounts. Panzer said, “The use of optics to calculate the range under which the target is being engaged, substantially improves your chances of making a great shot.”
Having secured the scope, James handed it to Diegert. Peering through, Diegert aimed at a distant tree. The scope immediately identified the tree’s trunk as the target, much like a cell phone camera will focus on a face. Instantly the screen filled the borders with data. Distance, wind speed, altitude the X and Y-axis of the angle of the target, barometric pressure, the position on the compass as well as the relative zoom factor. Diegert knew if he had a bullet in the chamber he could have hit that 317 yard distant tree no problem.
Turning to James and Panzer, he shared a smile with the two hunters.
“Ok.” James buckled the belt upon which he had holstered a .44 magnum revolver. “Let’s move up to that ridge.”
James carried the rifle, Diegert slung the gun case strap over his shoulder and Panzer adjusted his safari hat. They walked about 400 meters through the veldt ascending the final 10 meters to a high spot that flanked the position of the lion pride. At the peak of the ridge, they set themselves in an open area that afforded an excellent view of the pride. From this distance, Diegert could see the family life of the pride displayed before him, with the adults dozing and the children playing.
From the case, James extracted a tripod upon which he set the rifle. Also from the case, he removed a small cube with a perforated metal grid on one side. Upon a second tripod he attached the cube before setting it on a large rock so as to be three feet off the ground.
“This is a speaker which has several prerecorded sounds that are useful for eliciting action from wildlife.”
“You mean like a duck call?” said Diegert.
“Yes, only more variety and a bit more specific.”
“What works best for lions?” asked Panzer, although Diegert got the sensation his father already knew the answer.
“Hyenas and lions are natural enemies,” said James. “They are competitors and although the edge usually goes to the lions, the hyenas will attack if they sense an advantage. The two are constantly on guard against each other.”
“So you’ll fake an attack.”
“Yup, and what will happen is the lionesses will circle the cubs and hold their ground. Those that aren’t mothers will come out to defend the territory. The big male though is the true protector. My scouts tell me this one is particularly aggressive towards hyenas. So he will rise to the occasion, seek out the hyenas, kill any he can and chase off the rest.”
“And we’ll shoot him while he thinks he’s defending his family,” said Diegert.
“It’s the best way to get him on his feet during the day and separate him from the rest of the pride.”
Panzer lifted his eyebrow, casting a disapproving glance at his son’s last statement. He stepped over to him, placing his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “The shot will be yours to take.”
James lifted the binoculars he had slung around his neck and looked toward the pride. He said, “Gentleman, do you see that gully that runs towards the east.” He pointed in the direction to which he referred and ran his hand as if tracing the gully. “There is a small spring-fed stream that flows to a watering hole about a mile south of us. The stream is the Tanzanian border. On the other side is the Serengeti National Park. If the lions cross that stream, we cannot pursue them.” James looked at the two of them, awaiting a response. When none occurred, he asked, “Do you understand?”
Diegert immediately nodded his head. Panzer paused, pursed his lips, gazed upward, then turned to James asking, “What is the likelihood they will retreat to the Park?”
“I think it’s quite likely that when the gun is fired they will run in that direction. They used to live in the Park and only recently have they chosen this spot as their new den.”
“We’re a long way from anyone observing what occurs out here. There’s no one to know if we pursue them.”
James looked Panzer right in the eyes, “I will know, and I will not allow them to be pursued. Outside the Park, what we are doing is legal, inside we would be poachers. And that is something no one will ever be able to call me.”
Panzer never blinked or broke eye contact. “Then we’ll just make sure that first shot counts.”
The stare down ended, but Diegert could feel the tension between these two as final preparations were made.
“David,” said James. “Let’s get you sighted in.”
Diegert took a knee and comfortably engaged the weapon, positioning himself so he could clearly see through the scope. He was nervous. He recalled the last hunting trip as an eight-year old boy with Tom Diegert, a contemptuous man he mistakenly believed to be his father. The guy hated David, because the bastard child reminded him every day that he was a cuckold with an unfaithful wife who insisted on raising another man’s child in his home. That trip ended in failure when Diegert had to choke down his tearful emotions while struggling to kill the frogs they were hunting. Now here he was again, having killed many men, but feeling ambivalent about killing an animal.
James instructed him, “Just pick a spot about thirty yards away from the pride and sight in like you did earlier with the tree. Let me know when you’re ready.”
Looking through the scope, Diegert saw the pride. He scanned over the group of sleeping mothers. The big male was sleeping in the shade. The cubs, however, were all active. Romping, wrestling, running and chasing each other. It was like a daycare center with the cutest little creatures he’d ever seen. They tussled in the grass, pounced on one another, frolicking in the sunshine, safe and secure amongst the powerful adults who were seeing to it that these playful little bundles survived to be the next generation of Africa’s alpha predators. Diegert felt an instant sense of family as he witnessed the scene of daily pride life.
There was a distinct green bush against the dry brown grasses, which Diegert sited in on.
“Have you got it?” asked James in a soft whisper.
“Yeah.”
“Ok, open the chamber, and I’ll hand you the round.”
Lifting and pulling back on the bolt handle, Diegert exposed the interior of the barrel. James handed him the .375 H&H mag. The bullet was hefty and dense with a gleaming brass casing. It slid smoothly into the chamber. Diegert lowered the bolt handle and slid the round forward.
“You ready?” asked James.
Diegert hesitated. He was contemplating the role of a father to these cubs in this threatening world of competitive predators.
Panzer could not stand the silence. “Answer him, David,” he spat a little too loudly.
Diegert, startled by the order, lifted his head to look up at the two men. James was patient and impassive. Panzer was gritting his teeth as his jaw muscles bulged.
Slowly Diegert said, “Ok.”
James switched on the speaker and an aggressive series of yips and barks were broadcast toward the pride. In the distance the reaction was immediate. All the sleeping adults were instantly on their feet, shaking the sleep from
their heads. They were sensing the air and scanning the bush. James pumped a spray bottle emitting a mist that rode the wind down the rise toward the pride. The hyena scent and the continued calls focused the lions on the rise. Diegert returned to the scope. All the eyes of the pride, including the curious cubs, were trained on their position. James’s prediction was right. Six of the lionesses surrounded the cubs who were corralled into a protective circle of motherhood. Two lionesses began stalking forward.
Diegert moved the scope to the shady spot where the male had earlier been. From the darkness of the shadow of the tree, stepped the magnificent male with his black mane framing his tawny face. He strode forward with a look of confident determination like no other Diegert had ever seen. His great paws pressed down the grasses as he moved forward without hesitation, nostrils flaring as the air was sensed. His progress was powerful, purposeful and so very impressive that Diegert was spellbound by this magnificent beast. The big male wasn’t running, but there was a bounce in his step and an intense gleam in his eyes as he searched to see what he had heard and smelled. Diegert could see how any hyena who was the target of this animal’s anger had better have a quick exit plan.
So amazed was Diegert at the true spectacle of the lion that to pull the trigger and kill him seemed totally inappropriate and cowardly. Killing him would remove the pinnacle of a natural chain which had taken years to develop and upon which the next generation depended. Diegert could not justify the loss for the gain. He could not see the big cat’s crime that deserved this lethal punishment. The beast was passing through the scope’s ideal range. If the shot did not happen now, the rifle would be inaccurate. Diegert’s finger would not squeeze, it would not pull, he would not shoot this animal.
Panzer shouted, “Shoot. Fire the weapon.” Diegert did not, no report of a bullet was heard. Panzer stepped over to Diegert, yelling, “Shoot him, shoot him now.”
Diegert would not look up. He held the gun but moved his eye from the scope, looking at the ground.
