Read The Gambit for Free Online Page B

mentioned and narrowed her eyes with a flirty grin.
    “You have,” I answered with a chuckle and returned her smile.
    “It’s on the tip of my tongue…”
    “I’m Owen Marina, co-founder of the Convergence Party.”
    Her eyes widened and her smile vanished.
    “Is that why you’re all beat up?” she asked, pointing to the TV.
    My smile disappeared too. “Yes, I was there.”
    “I’m glad you made it out all right,” she said with concern.
    “I am too. I just hope my friend pulls through.”
    “I hope he does too,” she replied and nodded solemnly.
    “Thank you again,” I tipped the mug in her direction.
    “Of course, it’s my pleasure.”
    I returned to my seat. I had my iPhone plugged into the outlet. It was finally powered on from being dead most of the night. The little red bubbles read 67 messages and 11 voicemails.
    Holy shit …
    I began scrolling through and reading some of the messages. There were dozens from my colleagues, a couple friends, and some of the funders that had survived last night’s attack. They all sent messages regarding prayers and thoughts to the situation. One of the first voicemails I had received only minutes after the attack was from my dad. I could tell by the time he had called.
    I checked my email. There were already requests from the Washington Post, Huffington Post, and others to do an interview on my experience during the debate. I shook my head. I always disliked how quick they were to make a buck off of someone’s story.
    “…This just in…” I heard the sharp tone of a female anchor on the TV. I glanced up with interest. “…The CIA has released the two suspects involved in last night’s horrific terrorist attack at Georgetown University’s Gaston Hall…”
    I sipped my coffee and stared intently at the TV.
    “…The first suspect, now deceased from his injuries, was Russian-born Alexei Malchikov. Authorities have mentioned the possibility of him being tied to Black Monday’s Viktor Ivankov. This now brings into question further Russian involvement with the US. He was twenty-nine years old. Here is his picture entering last night’s debate…”
    I almost spit my coffee out. I coughed, choking on the hot liquid.
    It was him. The blond, European-looking man who I was so suspicious of. He was the culprit. He was wearing our colors . Damn, that wouldn’t look good to the press. Why the hell would a terrorist don our colors and then lose his life in the process?
    “…The second suspect, who was deemed wanted by the CIA just minutes ago, was caught on camera standing and then climbing the steps just seconds before the explosives went off…”
    My stomach dropped. My fingers clasped the ceramic handle so hard that I thought I might break it. I couldn’t breathe.
    “…Owen Marina, Convergence Party co-founder, is wanted for involvement in plotting of the attack. It is believed by officials that Alexei planted the bombs, and Owen helped create them. An alumni of Georgetown, in the years before he became the founder of the Convergence Party, he was a field chemist for the EPA and also had a bachelor’s in chemistry. Were they trying to send the existing government a threat? A message? The feds are still gathering more informa…”
    The anchor’s words began to sound distorted. I felt my heart racing out of my chest, almost unbearable it was going so fast. Sweat dripped down my forehead, and I felt dizzy and sick.
    The shop became silent. I looked around at all the faces, and they were staring back at me. No one said a word. They just stared. Their eyes frightened and nervous. They analyzed me as if I were some sort of monster. I saw a woman slowly pick up her cell phone and dial a number.
    This isn’t happening . This must be some sort of mistake .
    I stood up, and a couple people gasped in fright from my sudden movement. My forehead was creased in stress and anger.
    “Hello…I, uh, I’d like to report a wanted fugitive.” I heard the woman on her