“Really?”
“Why not? I deserve it.”
“You’re not going to get any argument from me.”
“Besides, things have calmed down. There’s not as much to write about.”
“You could take another shot at your book?”
“Did you need to remind me?”
“Sorry. I was just trying to be helpful.”
“Yes. And that is why I love you. You’re always looking out for me.”
“I do my best.”
They sat quietly for a moment. “I wonder how Bruno is doing? I was pretty harsh the last time we met.”
“I think it’ll take more than harsh words to take down Bruno,” said Coyle. “Do you think it’s over? The war?”
“I doubt it,” said Brigitte. “More like a lull.”
“The calm before the storm?”
“Let’s hope not. I’m not sure how much more storm France can take.”
“She’s a pretty tough broad from what I’ve seen.”
Brigitte cringed at Coyle’s metaphor and shook her head in mock disgust. “Americans,” she said.
Bruno finished his raw onion breakfast in a seaside park along the Mediterranean. Even he had to admit it was disgusting and he had to force down the last two bites. He thought about stopping by his favorite Algerian bakery and picking up some bread and a coffee after his run. He used a bench to stretch his legs. As he aged he noticed he was more prone to cramps. Not enough salt, he thought.
He took it easy the first two kilometers. He let his muscles warm up and stretch out before pushing them to their limit as he always did. He noticed a woman kneeling next to her bicycle repairing a flat tire on the side of the path. She was young and attractive. It was hard to tell her nationality but she dressed like a European. He thought about stopping and offering to help her until he tested his breath in the cup of his hand. He decided he would be doing her a favor not to stop.
He ran past her without saying a word or even looking down. She rose, pulled out a pistol and shot him three inches to the left of the center of the back, right where his heart would be. Bruno fell forward and slid across the gravel. He couldn’t believe it. He was angry that he had been so careless to get shot again. He wanted to get up and fight. He willed his body but nothing moved. He found it hard to breath and even harder to focus. He heard the woman walking toward him, the gravel on the path crunching beneath her shoes. She stopped next to him. He could not see her but he could feel her. A coup de grace, he thought. It is what I would do. A thorough job. He heard a police whistle and heard footsteps running away from him and another set of heavier footsteps running toward him. The policeman has chased off the assassin before she can finish the job, he thought. I am saved.
It was getting even harder to breath and it felt like the air around him was getting colder. His lips were dry. He felt a shiver ripple through his body. “Brigitte,” he whispered as everything went black.
Five thousand civilians died in the Café Wars.
Almost one million Algerians died during the War for Independence.
THE END OF PART I
Dear Reader,
Thank you for giving Café Wars: Book 2 of The Airman Series a try. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you are interested, the next book in the Airmen Series is called Sèvres Protocol and will be released December 1, 2018.
As always, your review on Amazon.com is most appreciated. I read each one and they help my writing.
If you would like to know when my future books come out please subscribe to my newsletter on my website. You’ll also get a free copy of one of my books when you sign up. I won’t sell your name or send you too many notices. I reserve my mailing list for announcements about my new novel releases.
Http://davidleecorley.com/
Sincerely,
David Lee Corley
My other novels:
We Stand Alone
Sèvres Protocol (Release: December 1, 2018)
Monsoon Rising
Prophecies of Chaos
Stealing Thunder
Café Wars Page 24