Courage Under Fire (Silver Creek #2) - Lindsay McKenna Page 0,54
coming in by midafternoon, so she wore her lightweight green ranch jacket over her short-sleeved pale blue top. As usual, she wore her jeans and work boots, and a small backpack slung over her shoulder. She detested purses, and carried a small, dark gray canvas day pack on her shoulder, instead. That way, she could stuff it with everything she needed when out with her bees. It was large enough, very handy, and not that weighty.
Running her list of to-dos, as Chase referred to them, she pulled open the side door. It was noon and the place was packed, as usual. She had called ahead and reserved a very special booth: Chase had taught her to take a corner table or booth so that it was farthest away from any windows, close to a secondary exit door, or near the kitchen, which always had one or two swinging doors where the cooks and waiters had access to the kitchen. He’d told her to never move fast, but to try and be like a ghost that no one sees stand up or sit down. And since she’d have a booth near the kitchen, which gave her eighty-percent viewing across the restaurant, she could see who walked in, as well as who walked past the establishment. That was a lot to remember! He’d laughed and said that after a while, it got to be second nature.
She was grateful he realized that until Dirk was apprehended, she was on tenterhooks. By giving her these kinds of what he called “black ops” tools, her confidence was building daily. She didn’t want to say she was falling in love with Chase, but she knew she was. It was as if he could peer deeply into her fear and make suggestions based upon experience to share with her in order to minimize her anxiety. Each piece of information made her feel stronger, more sure of herself, and no longer did she feel like a target.
Entering the restaurant, wearing her sunglasses, she was met with a combination of laughter, people chatting with one another, and the low bluegrass music playing in the background. She looked to her left. Sure enough, there was a RESERVED sign on the corner table next to the doors of the kitchen. Chase had taught her to keep her baseball cap on, lower the bill over her eyes. She could look around and not be seen gawking, which always got the attention of a terrorist. Ordinarily, she would take off her cap and set it on the table near her elbow. Not today.
She took the booth, removed her sunglasses, her back toward the corner walls so she had that wide-angled view of the patrons in the place, as well as people coming and going through the main entrance. Her confidence soared.
A waitress came over to take her order. Cari gave it: She was getting a to-go box for Chase and she ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and a salad to eat at the restaurant. Chase knew she was trying out all the tools of his trade today and asked for a hamburger and French fries. She’d laughed and promised she’d bring it back to him. That was the least she could do!
Settling in at the table, she remembered to put her knapsack between herself and the wall, so she could grab and go, if necessary. Plus, Chase said that in his work, he always had a pistol in a hidden holster beneath his loose clothing, unseen, but handy if he needed it. Well! Cari wasn’t going that far! She hated guns and violence for too many good reasons.
What she did do was take out her Apple iPhone and hold it in her hands in such a position that she could scan those in the restaurant without them realizing it. Chase had related that one of his missions had been to find an ISIS leader. He’d watched the enemy for a month, finding out where he ate, what establishments he visited in the village. Dressed like any Afghan man, Chase had waited in a fairly large restaurant, if it could be called that, and had sat at a corner table next to the cook’s area. He’d taken the shot, killed his target, and escaped through the kitchen, out the back door to where his van was waiting, engine running. He’d memorized the layout of the village, knew escape routes, and disappeared before anyone could find, much less chase and capture, him.