Assem Akram - The '1492' Conspiracy

Senator Pat Gareth had called Ava telling her that he wanted to meet us ASAP. We offered to meet him in his office, but he suggested some place more ‘neutral’; and Ava, for some reason, had proposed for us to meet at the Sea Catch, in Georgetown - whereas I hate seafood: it stinks! It was lunchtime on a rainy day and the restaurant was almost empty.

Senator Gareth was sitting with his back to a large bay window overlooking the C&O canal. The pouring rain, while giving the view outside an appearance of appeasing romanticism, added to the gloomy mask the Senator was sporting inside. He seemed worried. His round, almost jovial face - despite the circumstances – from the last time had disappeared and now looked emaciated, grave, as though he had been seriously sick or deprived of sleep for days.

“Friends,” the Senator started to say with much gravitas, as if he were getting ready to drop us over Normandy or Sicily, “I’ve thought over and over what you told me the other day and it makes sense… it all makes sense,” he said, as he played with the fork in his hand.

“What ‘makes sense,’ Senator?” Ava asked.

“Hush,” he whispered, bringing his hand to his mouth in a quick move. “Don’t call me Senator! It’s Pat; just call me Pat.”