CHAPTER 19
THE SALESMEN

new york city

Knight kicked his feet up on his desk as he delivered the soft sell on autopilot. “I know the policy is expensive, but it’s nowhere near as expensive as a lawsuit.”

He heard a knock on the frame of his open door. Looking up, he saw a slender man with slumped shoulders standing awkwardly in the doorway. He gestured for the new business prospect to have a seat as he wrapped up his call.

“Chimpanzees are unpredictable animals,” Knight continued. “One guy I know has this chimp. His favorite thing in the world is watching Wimbledon and jerking off when the girls grunt in their little skirts. Another lady—not my client—got a chimp, and out of the blue it decided to rip off her neighbor’s ears and face and hands. They’re called wild animals for a reason.”

As Knight listened to the phone with divided attention, he slid a bottle of Macallan eighteen-year and a lowball toward the man sitting opposite him in silence. Knight made sure everyone felt like royalty in his office. Anyone could sell you insurance, but when you went with Knight, you were buying him and his first-class service.

“I don’t drink.”

Knight sized the man up. By his body language and the way he had waited submissively in the doorway, Knight suspected he was middle management, which priced him out of the more exotic animal markets, such as apes or big cats. The man shifted in his ill-fitting suit, looking uncomfortable in his own skin. Though he didn’t scream “Florida” and didn’t have a ponytail, Knight thought he had a read on him.

Knight covered the phone, whispering to the man. “Let me guess. You’re a reptile guy?”

Reptile guy? The man shook his head, looking uncertain whether to be offended by the assumption. Knight returned to his call. “Well, if you decide you want to dump little Curious George, I can put you in touch with interested buyers. Let me know.”

Knight hung up and rose from his seat, packing up his briefcase. He had a lot of money riding on finding the true source of the baby tiger at SafariWorld, and almost no time. His flight to China left in just over an hour. And who the hell was this guy in his office wearing an off-the-rack suit?

“You’ll have to pardon me. I’m heading out the door. I didn’t think I had anything on the calendar. What can I help you with?”

Knight glanced at the man again, annoyed he had misread him as a reptile guy. His radar rarely let him down. Before the man could answer, Knight took another crack.

“Wait, wait, wait. Let me guess.” The fact that he was wearing a suit, even an ill-fitting one, narrowed the possibilities. The meek man probably worked for someone important, someone rich. That’s it. “Horses. Private collection.” Yes, he must work for someone with a very expensive horse that people would pay a handsome price to breed. “You’re here to insure bloodstock,” Knight finally hazarded.