Hunting License

Trophies from a big game hunt were highly prized. So naturally Karsten and Thurman wanted their guide to find a really choice criminal....
The helicopters buzzed lazily overhead like fat flies in a warm May wind.
There they go. Right on time, said William Karsten III. His hunting jacket shone bright red in the early morning sun as he moved out into the open to watch the planes.
I do hope that they don't get airsick, replied Thomas Thurman from his comfortable chair in front of the fire. He took a long stick and began poking the embers closer to the coffee container.
William Karsten turned around and looked at his companion. Why in heaven's name should you be so concerned about them ? he asked. The early morning light on his brown-and-gray hair gave it a more youthful appearance than it usually had.
They don't hunt very well when they're sick, said Thurman. And that of course, is my only concern for them. He smiled at his hunting partner, then motioned him over to the fire. Have a cup of coffee while we're waiting.
Karsten walked over to the center of the little forest clearing where they had built the fire. Might as well have a cup, I guess, he said. His face, furrowed with deep lines that had taken half a life-time to create, wore a slight frown. But I wish that Emmett would get back. What's the sense of hiring a hunting guide if he's not around to take care of things for you? I'm getting hungry.
Thurman laughed at him. If you'd worry more about where we're going to hunt instead of spending all your time thinking about your stomach, we'd probably have better luck, he said. He poured a cup of sweet brown coffee for both of them, then passed one of the cups to Karsten. Emmett probably couldn't get the Warden on the phone right away. Thurman, who had once been something of an athlete, began to laugh, his heavy-set body shaking gently with the expressed mirth. If the worst comes to the worst, Bill, we could fix our own breakfast, you know.