CHAPTER ONE - ON THE BACK OF A LION


There is a saying in Africa -- the man who chooses to ride the back of a lion can never dismount. Well, I had made that choice, and now I'm discovering just how true that saying is.

Life started out simple enough. I was born and raised on the plains of Africa; learned to hunt and track from my father, a well-respected British hunter and guide who hobnobbed with royalty as easily as he ate grubs with the natives. When I turned seventeen, he sent me to Oxford to get a formal education so that I could, in his words, "make something useful of myself." But, by then it was too late. Africa, the hunt, the lust for adventure-- they were already permanently ingrained in my soul.

I graduated with honors and spent five years in the business world until I just couldn't take it anymore. So I went back to Africa, preferring to face the wrath of my father to one more boring business meeting. He was surprisingly calm when I arrived in camp. He didn't even look up from his dinner when he spoke in a matter-of-fact voice, "You lasted two years longer than I thought you would, son. Pull up a chair and have a bite." That was all he said on the subject.

From that day forward I shed the blue suit for brown khakis and the ledger for a rifle that would put down an elephant with a single shot. Ten years had past, the old man retired to a cottage in Mozambique, and I was running the safari business.

I had a reputation for being able to track a walking stick across the continent in a rain storm with my eyes closed. It was a slight exaggeration, but I would never let on. People came to me when they wanted the thrill and adventure of being face to face with the most dangerous animals on this planet. I always gave them what they wanted.

Then one day some strangers approached me. I could tell that they were not native to Africa. Hell, they were not even native to Earth. They said, "Jim Africa, you're wasting your talent. You could be making some real money working for the folk on Deneb Kaitos. They're gathering a collection of every animal species they can put their grimy paws on. Jim, hunting animals for them will land you more money in a year then you will make in a lifetime leading safari's in this place."

I thought, "What the hell. I could use some new danger and excitement in my life, and the money wouldn't hurt either. It seemed just too damn good to pass up.

So...I mounted the back of the Lion.

CHAPTER THREE - THE STRANGER IN BLACK


She stepped out of the elevator and into the dimly lit corridor on the 16th floor of the office building at 2600 Madison Ave., New York City. A brass plaque screwed into the wall above the floor directory pointed out the location of the offices of "In the Heart of Africa, Inc." She paused just long enough to determine the direction, then walked down the narrow, empty hallway until she came to a door which had light coming through frosted safety glass. Stenciled on the glass in large white letters were the words:


In The Heart Of Africa, Inc.
African Safari Trips, Hunting and General Sight Seeing
Jim Africa, Proprietor
Suite 1606, 2600 Madison Ave.


The woman turned the handle and stepped inside. A quick look around the cluttered office revealed the heads of zebra, gazelle, lion, and rhino mounted here and there on the walls. Elephant tusks, African tribe masks, shields and spears; and an array of brightly colored African fabrics and wall posters filled in the gaps between the mounted heads. The file cabinets were piled high with old paperwork, and gave reason for one to wonder if the draws were just as full, or if no one has bothered to do the filing for the last ten years. Boxes and crates were stacked everywhere and anywhere there had been empty floor space, giving the office that "warehouse" decor.

The receptionist looked up from her paperwork and removed her reading glasses. She was blonde and shapely, wearing a low-cut, tight fitting, shear white blouse and a tight red skirt that did their best to display her ample figure. She forced a smiled and broke the silence, "How may I help you?"

"I'm interested in some information regarding a particular safari." The woman held a fashionable silver purse under her arm as she removed her sunglasses and took another glance at the shambles that served as his office.

"Well, Jim Africa usually handles those requests when he is in town, and it just so happens that he's back in town today. Wait one minute and I'll see if he's available to speak with you." The receptionist rose and disappeared down an aisle that snaked its way between files, boxes and office partitions.

The woman waited. She was dressed in a black dress and pearls. Her black hair curled under at the shoulders. She turned her dark eyes to a poster attached to the wall on her left. It had a picture of elephants, birds, and other wildlife, all at the edge of a large lake. Written across the poster in large block letters was, "The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of -- Visit Our Lakes: Victoria, Tanganyika, and Nyasa." In small letters, "TanzaniaTourist Bureau".

The receptionist came back to the front desk, "He will see you now. Please follow me." She guided the visitor through the same maze that she traveled before and then stepped aside at an office door. "In here, please."

The man inside rose from his chair and gave a nod. He was about 6'2" and looked to be in as great shape as you would expect from a man who takes on the roughest that Africa has to offer. He is 30 years old, but could pass for younger. His handsomely tanned face was accented with "smile lines" at the corners of his dark eyes. He wore a brimmed safari hat with a leopard skin band, cocked slightly down above his right eye. His black hair and short-trimmed, soft, black beard only accented his rugged but handsome features.

He smiled and held out his hand, "G'day, ma'am. I'm Jim Africa. Your name is...?"

"I'm Kelle...Kelle Dettinger."

"Well, Kelle, please, won't you have a seat," he motioned to the chair at the side of his desk. She took her seat and crossed one leg over the other knee, while he cleared some space on his desk. "So, how am I able to help you?"

"I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Africa. I need your services."

Jim smiled and began to deliver his sales pitch, "Can you fire a rifle or blaster if you have to? Not that this has to be a hunting expedition, but you never know when a rhino might attack the jeep, or when a lion acts unexpectedly and charges you, thinkin' that you look more juicy than a quarter round steak." In this case, Jim thought, he might have to agree with the lion.

"If I have to."

"Don't mean to frighten you, ma'am, but one can't be too careful about who you bring on a safari these days. Once in the jungle, there is no turning back." He leaned forward and pushed the brim of his hat back with the thumb of his right hand. He lowered his voice just slightly for effect, "It just so happens that I'm leaving on a special safari in three weeks. I'll be flying into Lubumbashi, Zaire." He went on, "Seems that there is a renegade lion on the Luangwa Valley Game Reserve in eastern Zambia.It needs to be trapped and taken care of. There is a good road from Lubumbashi that will get us close. Then we will head east over the plains that descend out of the Muchinga Mountains. If we get this accomplished quickly, there are several other game reserves in the area of Zambia and Malawi that I think you would really like. So...," he paused, leaned back in his chair and smiled at having given a pretty decent sales pitch, "...what do you say? Do you want to go?"

The woman just smiled. "Mr. Africa, I think you misunderstand me. I am offering you a chance to go on my safari."