CODE X:Episode 1 (2 page)

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 Angeles

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.

He lowers his eyes towards Parks and hisses,
“A puss like you ain’t worth getting my hands dirty on. Let’s
go.”

Parks stands. He looks down at his white
slacks--no longer white.

Chapter 4

Inside the LA
Fitness Center, during the day, but not so busy, Vicki rides a
Precor Elliptical machine at the end of a row where the weight
training area begins. Beside her on a multi bench-press machine is
her best friend, Carla Biggins. She reminds Vicki of Linda Hamilton
in
Terminator
, except she smiles all the time and is quite
the quipster. She works out like a fiend, no makeup, sinewy but
strong. This woman bench presses an unladylike weight of 200 pounds
for someone who weighs 135 pounds, that is freakishly strong.

Vicki says, “Honestly Carla, I wish you
wouldn’t pick on Nick all the time.” She frowns in exasperation as
she emphasizes her point in the argument.

Biggins with clenched jaw answers. “You baby
his ass because you’re in love with him. Damnit Vicki, you don’t
even follow your own advice.”

“I know, I know. But he hates being around
you! He leaves every time you come around. You promised me...”

Biggins slams weights in her release-sits
up. “Bullshit! Talk about promises. You forgot me after your great
discovery.”

Vicki graduated from high school when she
was only 14 and from med school by the time she was 21. She has a
gift for puzzle solving and new concepts in DNA genome
manipulation, which has garnered her scientific awards. Along with
that came the monetary offers from big pharmaceuticals and numerous
medical giants to accelerate her research, especially to lock her
in under contract. The object was to render her a slave to their
money. Coping with the burst to worldwide acclaim became too much
for her. She failed for the first time in her life, but hid that
failure.

“Carla, your problem is you never let anyone
be human.”

“The great Dr. Vicki Collins. You ignored
me. When you couldn’t handle the pressures, you copped your own
scrips. Treated me like I was bad company.”

“I screwed up. For the tenth time, I’m
sorry. Why are you always so angry?”

“I’m sorry. I’m just mad at myself because I
didn’t kick your ass.”

Biggins stands up. Vicki towels off.

Vicki relents, “I found my drug addiction
was easy to hide.”

“I feel like I let you down.”

Vicki embraces Carla.

“I was so ashamed. I couldn’t even face
you.”

“I’ll never let my ego stop me from jerking
your ass out of a jam. That’s a promise.”

Biggins moves to a heavy bag. Vicki follows.
Thump! Thump! Biggins kicks the bag from a fighting stance.

“Even going easy on Nick?”

“Moi? Stop dogging pretty boy?”

“You’re such a shit. Just give him more
time.”

Parks enters the gym in his dirty clothes.
He’s not pretentious and could care less about the stares from some
of the members.

Biggins responds, “Nope, that’s the one
thing I can’t do, cause I know you're wrong. He can’t keep running
from his ghosts. Speaking of Prince Charming.”

Vicki turns to greet Parks. “What in the
world happened to your pants?”

“I don’t want to talk about it Vicki.”

“Okay honey. Let me grab my bag. You two try
to act civil,” as she heads into the women’s locker room.

Thump!
Biggins kicks the heavy bag.
Thump!
Parks watches as she bobs and weaves.

Parks breaks the ice, “Okay Biggins, you
heard her. The war’s over.” He refuses to call her by her first
name; it would make it appear he likes her.

She won’t let it go, “It’s always over for
wimps. But warriors...”

Wham!
She roundhouse kicks the bag.
He shakes his head in disgust at her love for fight training.

Biggins caught his disapproving look, “Parks
you got to...always stay ready.”

“Jesus, just cause you were the first woman
to make Special Forces...”

She corrects him, “and first to win the
Silver Star in combat. Say Parks, did you fall down, or did you get
pushed?”

He snaps back at her, “No! You don’t get it.
You think fighting makes you a hero.”

“I think when Parks says to turn the other
cheek, it means show the cheeks on his ass running from
trouble.”

He argues, “Fight on the streets, someone
dies.”

She will not bend, “Better them...than me.
At least I can defend my clothes.”

He turns away in revulsion, a big mistake.
Biggins tries to blindside kick Parks’ face. Parks, with lighting
reflexes deftly slips her kick with his hand. He neatly parries two
more attempts with hand speed moves.

Four other male gym members who stopped to
admire Carla’s workout, nod and poke each other in surprise at
Parks’ speed. Nobody would believe his quickness for someone as
overweight and out of shape as he is. Anybody who watches martial
arts fights on TV can see this guy used to be in the ring.

“See Parks. You got potential. Let me whip
that Pillsbury dough boy ass of yours back into shape. Make a man
out of you again.”

“I don’t fight anymore.”

Chapter 5

Mount Vernon, Virginia 2 A.M.

Three black-clad men, wearing night scopes
and carrying duffel bags, scale the fence inside the estate and
hustle their way to President George Washington’s tomb. They stand
outside the iron gates with the three bags down by their feet.

The lead man takes out a mini pulse
generator and points it at the security devices. He activates the
switch, and after it disables the alarms, packs it away. The other
two have taken up positions at opposite ends of the tomb, watching
the grounds, looking for guards.

The man outside the gates pulls out a lock
pick set from his coat and proceeds to pick the padlock. The lock
springs open in less than a minute.

A second man hurries back to the open gate
of the sarcophagus and unzips a duffel bag. He uncoils what looks
like a long, black, thin tubing. The first man attaches one end of
the tubing to a device in the duffel bag, while the third keeps
perimeter watch.

The lead man then places the end of the
tubing against the top edge underside of the sarcophagus. A slight
humming sound commences and white dust starts to pile up on the
floor. He turns to the man behind him and gives him a thumb up
signal. He replies back with a thumbs up and reaches in the bag,
flips up a switch.