The Gambit by Allen Longstreet Read Free Book Online Page A

let off. There was also plenty of room for me to weave in and out of traffic. One lane change from a vehicle without using their signal could have been the end of my life. Then again, dying on my street bike, to me, was a preferred route, compared to rotting in a prison for a crime I didn’t commit.
     

     
    Once I get on I-95 I can really lose them . I continued to speed, slaloming between the vehicles. The benefits of having my bike equipped with a turbo were undoubtedly the added speed, but also, the distinct sound allowed other motorists to hear me coming. It helped keep me safe.
     

     
    North to Baltimore? Or south to Richmond? My intuition took me south, back to my home state of Virginia. I had to see my dad. I could only imagine what was going through his mind after seeing his only son in the news. I bore right and accelerated up the on-ramp and merged onto the interstate. Sliding into the farthest left lane, I began to reach speeds well over 120 miles per hour. I glanced back in my mirrors and saw the Chargers becoming smaller and smaller. The passing cars were a blur as I approached 150 miles per hour. The only way I was going to outrun them, to have any chance of an escape, was by maintaining that speed.
     

     
    If 95 remained empty, at this rate, I would be there in around forty-five minutes. I felt my iPhone vibrating in my pocket, and as I felt the sensation, I realized they would be tracking my location through it. I slipped it out and tossed it. Whoever told the media that I was the culprit, made a big mistake. They picked the wrong fight, with the right guy .

     
    “Ma’am, the last street camera caught him on I-95 South going well over 140 miles per hour. They’ve lost him.”
    The flames of anger licked my insides. My teeth were clenched as I watched the video recording of him zipping by on his motorcycle.
    “Well, if he doesn’t kill himself at that speed first, we need to find out where he is going. You said the father still lives in the house Owen grew up in, correct?”
    “Correct. The father, Ted Marina, lives in a house in a small development in Midlothian, Virginia.”
    I watched the graphics populate the many screens that surrounded us. The birth certificates, documents, and addresses. All the information I needed, right at their fingertips. There was no way he was going to slip through our grasp again.
    “What about his mother?” I asked.
    “Mother is deceased. Died of a heart attack in 2007.”
    “Well, that eliminates the question of which parent he would go to first. Easy enough for us. Are we still triangulating his movements?”
    “No ma’am, he destroyed his phone on the interstate just moments ago.”
    I paused, thinking.
    “If he continues at the pace he is going, he will reach Richmond in a half-hour. Our guys won’t be able to apprehend him in time. Contact the Midlothian Police Department. Inform them that Owen Marina is the most wanted fugitive in the United States. Have them intercept his arrival.”
    One of the men beside me picked up his phone and began to call.
    “Ma’am, you do realize that if he happens to not go to his dad’s house, if he deviates from the main roads onto back roads, with the capacity of his bike, we could lose him for good. We have all of his receipts pulled up for the YZF-R1 he is on. It is far from stock. It has over twenty grand of upgrades on it. That bike can go in excess of 200 miles per hour, and from our records this isn’t his first bike. He has been riding close to a decade. This gives him an advantage over our guys on the ground.”
    I wanted to smack him so badly, but I restrained myself.
    “That is nothing but an excuse. I want every camera, every pair of eyes we have, watching for that bike. Put an alert out to every police station in the Southeast, give them his tag number. We will catch him when he reaches Midlothian. That has to be his destination.”
    “Right on it, ma’am.”
    I stared at the video loop of Owen’s