Chapter 13
Tim had Natalie on the run, at least he hoped he did.
They sat at the bar in French Pete’s and who paid for the plate of onion rings they were both eating was on the line; Tim or Carl. Carl wasn’t looking very worried about it, with good reason Tim had to admit. Losing a game of chess to a ten-year old, well, he wished Akbar was here so that she could be trouncing his behind instead.
Funny, he hadn’t thought about Akbar much since early in the Arctic Village Fire. He’d initially kept asking himself, “How would Akbar approach this? What line of attack would he use? How to balance the resources against time to best—” Finally, he’d run out of time for even that simple a luxury. He’d reacted as his training had told him to.
Oregon felt a million miles away at the moment. French
