Excerpt from God Is A Gamer

Washington DC
Gillian Tan picked out the Jaeger-LeCoultre from the Orbita Tourbillion watch winder, which held his collection of exquisite watches. He was running late for a senate committee meeting. A lavish breakfast was laid out for him but he had no time to eat. Quite a luxury, if he were to think back to the time when his mother struggled to make ends meet. He had lost his father when he was seven.

His mother had pushed him to succeed. Day shifts in a department store and nights in a downtown pub helped her earn enough to fund his education. Scholarships saw him through to graduation. He was extremely bright and intellectually gifted child who was obsessed with maths. His skills at mathematical analysis and research came in handy when he was drafted into the campaign management team of his dorm-mate, who went on to become the governor of Illinois. His old pal was now the president of the United States of America.

Once Gillian entered politics, academics took a back seat, and the desire to excel in the powerful world of American politics took over. And to a large extent, he had succeeded in his quest.

'I gotta rush!' he yelled out to his wife, as she emerged from the kitchen with two bowls of cereal and a glass of orange juice on a tray. Three maids and two butlers to handle their daily chores yet Nikki always brought him his breakfast. Like every other marriage, theirs too had seen its highs and lows but just as it was threatening to fall apart, she had managed to pull everything back together.

'Why don't you at least drink the juice? It will keep you going till you reach the Hill.'

'Fine!' And he walked towards her. He looked at his watch again. It was ticking faster than he would have liked it to. Those idiots from the civil works department had dug up the road a mile from home. Cable work, they said. The entire road had been closed off for the last three days, forcing his motorcade to take a longish detour. His commute had increased by nine minutes.

He gulped down the juice and pushed the door open. 'Bye, I'm off', he said and then, almost as an afterthought, added, 'honey!' Nikki rushed to his side for the customary goodbye kiss. 'Where's Gloria?' he asked. 'Still sleeping?' Their daughter had just entered her twenties. Nikki looked the other way. It seemed like she was nodding.

As he kissed Nikki on the cheek and turned to go, she asked, 'Are you meeting the President today?'

'Do I have a choice?' he frowned. 'He's agreed to see me today after the senate committee meeting.' He stepped out of the house, the frown intact.

Carl, his driver, was holding the door to the armoured Mercedes-Benz open for him. A special Mercedes was not a regular entitlement. Gillian was on the senate committee advising the government on South Asian foreign policy. The job made him a high-risk target.

Two minutes later, his entourage was zooming past the pristine landscape. His Mercedes was sandwiched between the two other cars.

'We need to get there in twenty minutes, Carl', Gillian commanded, his mind still on the meeting with the President. What was he going to tell him? More importantly, how was he going to tell him? He pulled out a few papers from the file lying next to him to focus on the task ahead. The trip metre showed 180 seconds. It seemed like an eternity. Gillian had just about started settling into his routine, when the car screeched to a halt. The papers fell to the floor.

'Damn it, Carl! Fast doesn't mean reckless.'

'Sorry, Sir'

That's when Gillian noticed that the pilot vehicle had stopped, forcing Carl to brake. A voice piped through Carl's earphones. He whispered into the mouthpiece before turning back. 'The old road has been opened up. You think we should take that?'

Normally, Carl would not have asked but, over the last three days that they had been taking the detour, Gillian had been picking up his macchiato from a Starbucks en route. Gillian would save nine minutes if he took the old route. He nodded his approval. Carl whispered into the earphone and the motorcade moved on.

Gillian looked out of the window and then glanced back at the FedEx package lying next to him. Nikki had handed it to him on the way out. It was addressed to him but the label with the sender's address was missing. Inside was a 6-inch model of a bicycle. It looked like something one would send it to him. His onsite security team had cleared the package for explosives or any other potentially dangerous substance. Gillian pulled out the delicately crafted cycle. He would have appreciated it much more had it not been for the intrigue surrounding the manner in which it had arrived. He brought the cycle to eye level. Was he overreacting? He wasn't sure.

The Mercedes raced along. It was approaching a stretch of the road, which had been cordoned off a few days ago. Up ahead, on the other side of the bend, parked by the side of the road, resting against a hillock, he could see a bicycle. A larger version of the miniature that he held in his hand. He looked to the right. The grassy and near perfect landscape had been somewhat damaged by the workers' digging. They seemed to have filled in the pits hurriedly and left. Very unlike the work that the subdivision contractors normally carried out. He made a mental note to take it up with the city council. That's when it suddenly, struck him-the package from nowhere, small bicycle, big bicycle, unprofessional ditched…It was a set up!

'Stop!' he screamed.

Carl slammed the brakes as the first car in the convoy crossed the cycle resting against the hillock. But it was too late.

Whatever else Gillian may have said was lost in the explosion that followed as the Mercedes crossed the cycle.

The armoured Mercedes was flung high up into the air before it crashed to the ground, spun over, and came to a flaming halt on its side. Chances of finding a survivor inside it were likely as finding Osama Bin Laden dining at the White House.

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