Free Foodchain by Jeff Jacobson Page B

shrugged, “I don’t get around so well anymore since I got kicked in the head. It didn’t help my finances. So I helped these gentlemen take advantage of these opportunities.”
    Sturm clasped his thick, stubby fingers in front of his chest and waited patiently.
    “Anyways, one of these opportunities didn’t work out.” Frank looked down at his bare feet on the wood floor. “It didn’t work out at all.” He looked back up, met Sturm’s eyes again. “In a place not too far from here. A place with a lot of animals. Exotic animals. Lions. Tigers. Monkeys. Even goddamn alligators.
    “Now,” Frank leaned forward, “you seem like a man who can appreciate the finer things in life. I’m not talking about material things. No. I’m talking about things like skills. I’m talking about things like the relationship between a predator and its prey. I’m talking about instinct. I’m talking about hunting. I can provide you with an opportunity for the hunt of a lifetime. A hunt like this town has never seen. A goddamn safari in your own backyard. A chance to hunt—and eat—and mount—lions. Tigers. Monkeys. A rhinoceros. And all the gators you can shoot.”
    Frank leaned back, crossed his legs. “But I don’t want any misunderstandings here. These animals aren’t for sale. We’d have to go in there…and take them.”
    Sturm didn’t say anything for a while. “So…basically, you’re talking about a, a heist? Is that it?”
    “Basically, yeah.”
    “You’re asking me to break the law.”
    “Technically, yeah. But, and this is the important thing, this, this heist, is unnaturally safe. There’s no law enforcement involved. None at all. There’s only one man. One man that feeds the animals. And I’ll take care of that element. Of him.” Frank realized he wasn’t talking in complete sentences anymore, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to spit it out, to get all the details on the table. “All you gotta do is go pick up these animals. And they’re yours.”
    “And what’s in it for you?”
    “Finder’s fee. A safari’d set you back ten grand, easy. I’m looking for ten percent.” Frank figured a grand would get him to Canada.
    “So, you want one thousand dollars, just to point me in the direction of these animals.”
    “And to make sure the keeper doesn’t bother you.”
    Sturm watched Frank for a long time. Finally he lowered his steepled fingers. “Son, you’re either telling the truth or you’re so full of shit it’s about to start dripping from your ears.”
    Frank didn’t say anything.
    Sturm drummed his fingertips on the desk. “Will Rogers used to say he never met a man he didn’t like. I’d say he never got out much.” He barked out a harsh, quick laugh.
    Frank stood. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time. Good day and good luck with the time you have left.”
    “Now hold on just a minute, son. Didn’t mean any disrespect. No sir. None at all. Just a little short on patience since my boy fucked up the fights this year. But that don’t mean I got to take it out on everyone.” He stood as well, and looked up at Frank. “You say you’re a horse doctor?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Then come with me. Afterwards, maybe we’ll talk about this hunt of yours.”
    * * * * *
    Sturm led Frank through an elaborate garden. Frank couldn’t see any weeds, not even a tip poking through the rich black soil, as he passed through rows of tomatoes, squash, and corn. But the plants themselves were wilted and dying. The squash looked like used condoms and the tomatoes like raisins. They went through a white picket gate at the far end and walked up to a bright red barn.
    Inside, a tired, still horse waited within a spacious stall filled with pine shavings. “This is Sarah.” Sturm fished in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a peppermint. He crackled the wrapper, catching the old horse’s attention. The horse was old. She was a deep red quarter horse, appearing startlingly thick and stocky