Authors: M.R. Vallone
Tags: #fiction action adventure, #fiction fantasy historical, #science fiction cloning, #female heo, #science fiction technothriller, #science fiction mystery thriller, #female lead in thriller, #science fiction genetic engineering, #science action thriller, #female adventure hero
CODE X:Episode 1
CODE X
Discovery
by
M.R. Vallone
Copyright
Copyright 2015 Michael Vallone
Published by Michael Vallone at
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Contents
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
brains 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.”
