Code X: Episode 1

by M.R. Vallone

CODE X: Episode 1

  by

  M.R. Vallone

  Copyright

  Copyright 2015 Michael Vallone

  New Release CODE X Discovery

  CODE X Discovery, the follow up to Episode 1 has just been released. This is the new edition which also includes Episode 1. The adventure continues where it ended at Chapter 36 n CODE X Episode 1.

  Return to your favorite retailer you obtained your book from and enter CODE X Discovery in the search feature to get to the CODE X Discovery book page to obtain your new, complete edition.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  New Release

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Connect with Me:

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgment

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Ritz Carlton

  Beverly Hills, CA

  The Ritz Carlton’s main banquet hall is set up for a political rally and fundraiser for the surprise leader in all the presidential polls. The rally sold out the venue, and the attendees are in a festive mood. The candidate generates an early excitement unheard of, before the first primary votes will be cast eight months in the future. Red, white and blue balloons hang down from the ceiling and bunting wraps the walls.

  The emcee finishes his introduction to the tuxedoed audience, “Ladies and gentleman, the senator not only became the biggest name in talk radio over the last 15 years, but he parlayed his media fortune into the medical research and the manufacturing giant, Alomet. He now puts his energy into a solution for a problem which ails America today, please welcome… Senator Ted Concannon.”

  The crowd leaps to its feet and roars its approval like the rich and wealthy are not known to do. This is their rock star and they let him know it.

  From the wings Senator Concannon bounds to the dais and lets the moment sink in. He’s a slightly rotund man, who displays an energy normally reserved for athletes; many liken his speech and mannerisms to those of Ronald Reagan many years ago. Behind him a large banner stretches from wall to wall that shouts: CONCANNON FOR PRESIDENT.

  He looks out at his adoring mass, pointing to the few the senator personally recognizes, then nods a thank you to each one of them. The crowd is magnificent. There are many women bathed in long evening gowns while their jewels sparkle under the bright lights. Only he can stir up these passions. His eyes settle on a center table with a nod of acknowledgment to Dr. Vicki Collins sitting beside Nick Parks whom everybody calls Parks.

  Dr. Collins wears a simple pendant, but there is a glow that embraces her face as if she were the focus of all the lights in the banquet hall. The radiance comes from her rare beauty perfectly complimented by her golden locks of hair that shimmer in the lights; a face whose beauty brings uncontrolled stares from everyone who sees her for the first time. It is hard to believe she could be this young for a doctor who has achieved such famous acclaim.

  Parks is a rugged sort who could stand to shed the extra 25 pounds he put on that make his face and waist look plump. This crowd is not in his comfort zone, as he barely gives the appearance of polite clapping which is noticeable to everyone who glances his way. He’s with Vicki, but looks unimpressed, uncomfortable and out of sorts as he pulls at the collar of his cheap tuxedo. He’s obviously not rich and famous, but a dragged-in, forced participant.

  Senator Concannon waves the crowd to sit. “Thank you, thank you, Concannon’s crusaders. Please stop. Sit so we can get to work freeing America.”

  The audience obeys.

  “When we’re married Vicki, please don’t expect me to be the dutiful doctor’s wife and attend these fundraisers,” Parks whispers with a smirk, as he pulls at his collar again.

  Concannon continues, “Folks, when you elected me…”

  The people in the hall are unaware that, at the very same moment, somewhere in the desert, there is a situation coinciding with his speech. It is only fitting that he gives a diametrically opposed opinion to the event that is unfolding out there.

  His voice continues like background music over the scene playing simultaneously out in the desert that syncs with his speech, “…when you elected me, I promised you I wouldn’t let the bleeding heart liberals…”

  Choppers zoom over the countryside with searchlights ablaze that whip back and forth over the desert floor. Six Ford Broncos trail after the chopper’s lights, bouncing, twisting, six abreast while clouds of dust stir in their shadows. In front of their lights, a figure stumbles and flees from the chasing posse.

  Choppers’ lights find a now crawling fugitive who reaches a chain link fence.

  “…keep us from achieving Justice.”

  The fugitive’s hands grab the fence.

  All lights freeze on a pregnant woman.

  “We have seen how the moral disgrace, the shame, the foul stench of rumors created by this man’s alleged sexual misconduct humiliates the office of President…”

  She makes a futile attempt to climb the fence, her hands bleed and a sweaty, dust-caked face looks hopeless as she struggles to pull herself up. It’s no use. She falls limp at the foot of the fence, exhausted.

  “…President Banyon vetoed my abortion bill.”

  Broncos skid to a halt. Dust swirls upward. Their headlights illuminate: Molly, 22, brunette, beautiful, and classy in an evening gown. Her eyes scream...total fear. Terrified, she tries to catch her breath as she quivers .

  “Now I ask you, isn’t it about time we elected a president with strong morals, who has pro family values? Our country needs a leader who will restore the bedrock of America’s soul. I will stop the rape and murder of our children...”

  Security officers emerge from their vehicles and slowly approach a dirt-stained Molly.

  Concannon’s voice rises, “…by these abortionists who put clinics in our neighborhoods to feed like sharks in a fish tank on our lost pregnant souls. It's time they pay for their crimes.” He takes a dramatic pause.

  Molly turns to face the officers. She pulls a silver handgun out of the handbag looped over her wrist. The officers freeze. They pull out their weapons very slowly so as not to spook her. Other officers approach her, barely seen in the dark, with red light glowing Tasers outside the shaky lights.

  “And they will pay, with the death penalty! My friends, I will offer a bill giving the death penalty to anyone who performs abortions. I guarantee anyone who kills a baby, that 30 days after their conviction...”

  Molly strains to raise her gun. She deliberately cocks it with both hands. And then, with tears streaming down her cheeks, she smiles! She places the gun barrel against her head.

  Concannon’s voice plays out over the chilling scene, “Your execution will be televised.”

  BAM! A shot rings out as Molly’s brai
ns splat onto the fence. Officers glance away from the horror they just witnessed.

  Back inside the Ritz Carlton banquet hall, the audience leaps to its feet in an ear splitting roar of approval at the senator’s final words.

  Parks and Vicki do not stand to applaud.

  Chapter 1

  Outside the Ritz Carlton, the audience streams out to waiting limousines. TV reporters mill around like hornets waiting to swarm the exiting guests. Only the restraining ropes hold them back, manned by security guards.

  Parks exits, with Vicki hanging on his arm. Her eyes long at him with a deep love. She nestles her head against his arm. She was so happy that Parks attended without a hint of disagreement. That’s what she loves about the big lug; a perfect gentleman and supportive partner in all she asks. Parks hands the valet a car ticket.

  The valet grabs his radio. “Bring up limo 24.”

  Jenna, a female reporter from FOX News talks to the camera. She reports in a hurried, breathless voice as all climbing young reporters do who want to claw their way to get noticed by the brass at the networks. Any outrageous angle or controversy would enhance their career if the other networks gave their story a mention.

  Jenna rushes in to the camera, “Who could have predicted the always running presidential candidate, Senator Ted Concannon, former conservative TV talk show host and business magnate, would be the odds on favorite to win the Presidency?” She leans closer to the camera lens, “He accomplishes this feat in two short years since his successful election to the U.S. Senate. His lightning-fast rise is earned from his spouting an extreme right wing view on abortion rights and limited government. Surprisingly, his claims for the rebirth of America resonates with a majority of Americans.”

  The reporter suddenly spots Vicki. “It’s Dr...Dr. Vicki Collins, the youngest person in history to win the Nobel Prize in medicine for her pioneering work in genetic coding. Dr. Collins meteoric rise of accomplishments parallels those of the famous Sir John Gurdon, a genius whose discoveries 50 years earlier in medicine opened a new era of discovery.” She charges over to interview her.

  Nick rustles her to attention, “Your public awaits you. See what happens when you attend these functions? Hell, you know you don’t belong in the political arena. So, why suck up to Concannon at his freak show?”

  Vicki snaps to attention with an attitude.

  “C’mon, the senator’s former company offered me a $100 million wing in his research facility, my very own state of the art lab built to my specifications. The head of Alomet, Dr. Landau, said the senator insisted that I be placed in that position as his last official order before he signed his blind trust agreement. Then he adds, he’ll start me off with $10 million to my project if I sign with him, which is quite tempting. I have to take my time and think it over. Besides, my contract won’t be up until six months from now. It’s the only appearance my potential benefactor ever requested of me. So, suck it up Nick.”

  The reporter shouts out to Vicki, “Dr. Collins, what made you support Senator Concannon?”

  “The Senator opposes government interference in scientific research. He’ll allow America's doctors the freedom to pilot medicine in the new millennium. His company would give me the autonomy to completely make my own decisions on research……Good night.”

  She presses Vicki, “Doctor, are you saying you approve of Senator Concannon’s extremist view on women’s rights?” She doesn’t answer. “Doctor...Doctor?”

  Nick ushers her into the limo.

  Chapter 2

  Fort Norfolk District Headquarters

  U.S. Army Corp of Engineers

  2 AM Rear Entrance Parking Lot

  There are six vans marked Army Corp of Engineers parked around back, facing the rear of the building. Inside the one at the end farthest from the rear entrance, two men clad in black with night scopes on their head, rustle to life in the rear.

  The first man flips the switch on to a magnetic pulse machine generator, which emits a low hum that intensifies as it powers up. He holds a handle with a red trigger on it, which has a black wire from the bottom connected back to the power unit. At the end of the handle extends a mini satellite dish, only 12 inches across. From its center a round beam projector extends, which he aims through the front windshield at the corner end of the building. After the machine reaches a steady hum, he squeezes the trigger, then holds it down.

  “Targeting,” in a whispered voice.

  Seconds later, his companion, eyes fixed on his watch whispers back , “Ten seconds, reacquire.”

  At that announcement, the trigger man aims the dish at the middle section of the building.

  “Targeting.”

  While his companion continues looking at his watch for another fifteen seconds, he whispers, “That’s it, alarms and cameras disabled.”

  Both men pull down the rest of their masks to cover their face.

  As the two Ninja-clad men exit through the side door of the van, the trailing man caries a rather thick, black briefcase.

  They bound up the rear steps to the door, insert a key, open the door and hurry inside.

  Inside Headquarters, they rush down the hallway, and turn right. They know what they are looking for. They stop at another door, insert a key and rush inside. They now face a steel wall door with a heavy duty combination key and retina scan lock. The lead man looks into the eye scanner which flashes green approval, then the key is inserted and the heavy door swings opens. They see a large floor safe in front of them.

  The second man sets his case on the floor and opens it in silence. He flips a switch, puts on a set of headphones and pulls out a stethoscope. He places it next to the tumbler, as he sets off to crack the safe.

  “Five minutes left,” whispers the lead man after glancing at his watch.

  The man cracking the safe moves the tumbler right, slows, listens, and stops. He reverses the dial left, stops, then back right, another left, stops, then turns the safe handle. It does not open.

  “Shit,” he repeats the process, slower this time. Still locked. He looks up at his partner.

  “Get it right this time, take a few slow, deep breaths, then focus,” as the lead man tries to settle his partner down. “Three minutes left.”

  He turns the dial through its sequence, deliberate, and on the last turn stops, draws a deep breath and turns the handle. The safe clicks and swings the door open.

  He scans the files with a tiny penlight that emits a less detectable red glow, then stops on a file labeled 11/24/63 and pulls it out.

  His partner announces, “One minute left.”

  The front cover is marked TOP SECRET. He opens the file, flips through the pages, then stops as he sees an outlined diagram of construction plans. He then extracts a small spy camera out of his pocket, snaps pictures of it and of the next three pages that he turns over.

  He takes care in placing the pages back in, puts the file back into its empty slot and shuts the safe.

  “Time. Move, we’re in danger,” his companion, says.

  The men lock the inside doors as lights shoot through the front windows.

  They run down the hallway, exit the rear door and lock it as two sets of bouncing lights appear down the sides of the building, from around the corner as the men run towards the rear. They jump down the steps and head for their van, as flashlights sweep the rear windows of the building. One guard turns the corner and illuminates the vans.

  The burglars duck down low to open the side door, then scurry inside their vehicle. Just as the light hits the van door, it closes. Lying flat on the floor, they settle in silence. Flashlights shine above them as they illuminate through the front windshield.

  MP’s on their night rounds have doubled security checks at the base.

  At 7:30 the next morning, the van starts up then exits from the quickly filling back lot, with their all-night occupants now wearing Army uniforms.

  Chapter 3

  Six Months Later

  Los Ange
les

  Outside a British Petroleum convenience store, Parks pulls his new Camaro up to a gas pump. At the opposite pump, Chico, a real beefy guy with a too small, dirty T-shirt on is filling his truck. Parks exits his car, and then walks around behind it on his way to the pump. A too much makeup on, tacky, gum chewing, skimpily dressed hot-looking babe crosses in front of him. She’s loaded with junk food snacks in both arms as she heads to Chico. She drops a bag of chips at Parks’ feet. He picks it up and hands it to her.

  “Why thank you.” She smiles wide at him.

  Parks shows her the utmost respect by keeping a clear distance from the lady, “No problem ma’am.”

  She turns her head back towards him and smiles at him a second time as she approaches Chico’s truck.

  Chico leaps at her, jerks her arm, then slings her hard against his truck. Chips, Cokes, cigarettes and her whole armful of snacks fly everywhere. Like a raging madman, his eyes are filled with a jealous fury as he jerks her towards him.

  Parks stops dead in his tracks, startled.

  Chico snarls, “I saw you making eyes at fat boy.”

  The woman rolled her eyes. “Chico, honest, I just...”

  Parks walks in. “Hey, c’mon man.”

  Chico moves an inch away from Parks’s face, “Punk, I saw you hitting on my girl.”

  Parks backs down, “Damn buddy, she dropped...”

  Chico shoves Parks. A glint appears in Parks’ blue eyes as they narrow slightly. His lip curls. He wants to take on this bully, but...cowers down.

  The woman chooses that moment to interrupt, “He’s nothing Chico. Let’s go.”

  Turning around, he slaps her.

  She yells, “Damn you!”

  Again, he swings at her…smack!

  As he was going for a third slap, Parks grabs his wrist midair.

  Chico yells over to his truck, “Rocco! We got a play!”

  Another rough looking punk, Rocco, bigger still, exits Chico’s hunk of junk. A Jerry Springer family reunion at the gas pumps.

  Parks backs away as both men circle him. “I want no trouble. Just don’t think it’s right hitting a lady.”

  He moves closer towards Parks. “Is that so? I’m gonna teach you to mind your own business, with your fancy car and your fancy clothes, to stay out of where you don’t belong. You keep your mouth shut when I’m puttin my old lady in her place.” He grabs Parks by the shirt and slams him onto the ground in a muddy pool of water.

  Suddenly, a cop car pulls onto the BP lot. Chico’s eyes widen when he sees the car.