I'll say this for Wilbur Smith: He was fast.
I was talking with Kim Holl at the bar. It was only mid-afternoon, but the MUs had discovered the lounge.
Smitty must have thought he could outshoot me. But you don't live as long as I have without knowing what's going on behind you. I figured he'd be gunning for me, and was on my toes. Something told me it was time; I turned and, before he could draw a bead on me, nailed him with my Canon 510.
Yes, Smitty was fast.
Fast, but not the fastest.
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