Destination Dealey: Countdown to the Kennedy Conspiracy Read online

  Table of Contents

  Destination Dealey

  Copyright

  2013

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  1963 and 2013

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  1963

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  November 22, 1963 Daybreak

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Chapter Eighty

  Chapter Eighty-One

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  2013 Again

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  DESTINATION DEALEY

  COUNTDOWN TO THE KENNEDY CONSPIRACY

  A NOVEL BY

  L.D.C. FITZGERALD

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2011 by Ursa Minor Publishing, LLC

  All Rights Reserved

  www.destinationdealey.com

  First Edition

  Published in the United States of America

  By Ursa Minor Publishing, LLC, Pompton Plains, New Jersey

  www.ursaminorpublishing.com

  ISBN: 978-0-9837473-2-1

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2011932323

  This is a work of fiction. All events and dialogue, and all characters with the exception of some well-known historical and public figures, are products of the author’s imagination. The appearance, actions and statements of or attributed to such real-life historical or public figures in the work are not intended to change the entirely fictional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews, no part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever including electronic or mechanical information storage and retrieval systems without written permission from the publisher.

  Cover Photo: © by James G. Howes, 1969

  2013

  CHAPTER ONE

  WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2013

  5:59 PM – EDT

  Sera Banks clambered up the rungs on the side of the Chamber, a six-foot diameter aluminum-coated sphere resembling an enormous fishbowl. Dropping into its hollow core, she crammed herself and the bulky parcel on her back next to the petite frame of her mentor, once renowned physicist Dr. Iggy Mikos. She grasped the handle on the hatch and creaked it closed, enveloping them in darkness. “He’s coming. Punch it!”

  Iggy stabbed at backlit buttons on each end of the Converter, a twelve-inch-long barbell-like device with a handhold in the middle. Her finger slipped. Patience. Feeding on Sera’s impetuousness could get them both killed. She steeled herself and counted off the memorized sequence. “Here we go!” They strapped on oxygen masks, and she entered the final keystroke.

  A blinding flash of light and a deafening roar consumed the Chamber. The two scientists shrieked in agony before passing out.

  6:00 PM – EDT

  Captain Drew Sutherland sliced his access card through the magnetic reader to unlock the door and rushed into the lab, mouth agape. He circled inside the customary shabbiness of the blistered ocher walls, observing cracked lab benches cluttered with wires, circuits, and tools. Equipment hummed, while a familiar ionized smell permeated the air. All the apparatus for the project were present, but the researchers were absent. His decreasing spirals propelled him to the obvious destination, the shiny orb dead center of the warped linoleum floor. Cupping his palm on the convex surface, Sutherland flinched. The alloy blazed with heat. He stepped up on the ladder and heaved the hatch open with a massive forearm. The empty brass interior gleamed back at him in the fluorescent glare. He rubbed the back of his military buzz cut. Where could they be?

  6:01 PM – EDT

  Hurtling through the sky two miles west of the lab at thirty thousand feet, Iggy woke with a start, the Converter lashed to her left hand. Freezing wind roared in her face, numbing her as she gasped into the mask. Of all the luck—displacement must have triggered a blackout. Struggling to orient herself with respect to gravity, she waited the requisite number of seconds and then pulled the ripcord. The parachute billowed out. Snap! She felt the sensation of being jerked upward by an unseen entity.

  Temporarily safe, Iggy scanned the atmosphere. No! Her cohort was tumbling in freefall, still unconscious. “Sera! Pull the cord!” she shouted into the mouthpiece installed in her mask, grateful that Jay had insisted on the communications gadgets. She continued calling over and over, her voice rasping with fear. Finally, the white disk of Sera’s chute materialized, impossibly far below.

  Iggy closed her eyes and exhaled. How did she end up here? A fifty-seven-year-old widow and mother—a fugitive. She and Sera would survive, for now. But what about those in peril and those who had perished? What about Nick?

  Iggy’s mind traveled through time and space to the day her world ended. She had briefly stepped out of the university lab when a powerful blast catapulted her off her feet and slammed her to the floor. Dragging a broken leg, she’d crawled back through the opening where the door had been blown from its hinges, but nothing could be done. Nick was dead. Her partner and best friend, gone. Her so
ul ached every waking hour since history was rewritten. The official report blamed her husband for his own negligence, but it was a lie. Nick never took chances. The government had executed him and tried to kill Iggy as well. The retribution had been enacted for the couple’s refusal to develop weapons of mass annihilation. In an attempt to further the psychological damage, the administration had exiled her now fatherless son to a state-sponsored military academy. Iggy got to see Andreas only twice a year. Bastards.

  The physicist herself was remanded to the Secaucus Research Installation—a guarded facility in New Jersey derisively nicknamed the Gulag by inmates and jailers alike. Current law sanctioned her detainment under the auspices of The Traitor Act, which required uncooperative citizens to perform compulsory work for the benefit of national security. Other notable provisions included congressional review of the press, border control between states, and elimination of search warrants.

  It had to stop.

  6:02 PM – EDT

  Captain Sutherland plodded toward the colonel’s office, contemplating his options. Two prisoners—correction, two resident scientists—had vanished from the premises. The captain bore no blame. He had been punctual, made his rounds, and followed orders. But by delivering this particular nugget of bad news, he would be in prime position to receive his superior’s full fury. A methodical man intent on his purpose, Colonel Zimmerman did not tolerate failure from his staff. Avoiding the disclosure seemed like the better alternative in the near term. However, delaying would aggravate the inevitable abuse.

  Sutherland straightened his uniform as he edged into the office. The cramped, dingy quarters amazed him anew each visit. “Sir? We have a problem. The inmates assigned to Project Vindictus are missing.”

  Studying a printed report perched atop a calamity of open files, William Zimmerman shifted his ballpoint and clenched it in a death grip. “What? Who?”

  “Iggy and Sera. Their designated cell is unoccupied.”

  The commanding officer angled his bulbous head as his bald scalp flushed. “Impossible. No one leaves my base without my permission.”

  “With all due respect, sir, they’re gone and no egress points have registered card access.”

  “I don’t have time for this nonsense. Do you hear an alarm?” Zimmerman threw the pen down and got to his feet. “If they had tried to escape, I would know, dammit!” He pounded his fists on the desk, and a pile of paper clips scattered.

  “Colonel, if you would just indulge me by reviewing the surveillance logs, I’ll show you.” The underling sat down at a terminal in the corner and began clacking at the keyboard. His boss strode behind him and hovered, snorting like a bull, but said nothing.

  The captain rewound the recording and hit play. In the foreground, he saw Iggy attired in her typical ensemble of tidy cardigan and pressed khakis. Her spiky wheat-colored hair skirted her ears. Leaning over the workbench, the doctor scribbled on a pad, her eyes narrowed in concentration. She checked her watch with cool deliberation and called to Sera. Unfortunately, the reel captured images only; the conversation was mute.

  Sutherland turned his attention to Sera. Her lithe form in the background reached up to high shelving, revealing a gap of flat midriff between her T-shirt and jeans. She pulled down a couple of parcels that appeared to be backpacks. His face spread into a grin as she approached the camera, scowling. Her features were strong, severe even, with a pointed nose, short black hair, and straight bangs, but she carried herself with a confident defiance that he found irresistible.

  The pair donned the backpacks and grabbed masks. Iggy seized the remote control barbell device before they inexplicably climbed into the Vindictus structure. After a brief pause, the fishbowl shuddered and the scene phased into white static. Seconds later, Sutherland’s own unmistakable brawn entered, explored the room, and inspected the metallic globe.

  “Colonel, that Chamber is empty.”

  “Absolutely not possible. Two explanations exist. Either they’ve gone and vaporized themselves by screwing up the Anti-Matter test, or they’ve altered this video and they’re hiding.”

  The captain stifled a comment. Even with his rudimentary understanding of the experiment, he recognized that if it had failed, no one would remain.

  “Knowing this duo, I’m betting on the latter.” Zimmerman thrust his chin out. “They won’t get away. Initiate a general alert.”

  “Yes, sir!” Sutherland smacked a prominent red knob on the wall. Lights flashed as a klaxon sounded. Ahooga! Ahooga! He snatched the intercom microphone. “Attention all personnel. We have a code red situation. Two residents are currently unaccounted for. This is not a drill. All units report to your stations to conduct a section-by-section sweep of the facility and grounds. I repeat: We are in a code red situation. This is not a drill.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2013

  6:03 PM – EDT

  With sufficient height to land safely, Sera permitted herself to spread her arms and indulge in the thrill of soaring like an eagle. After the panic of being jolted awake while somersaulting through the air, she deserved a brief respite. Close call.

  She sucked in a lungful of clean atmosphere, drinking it in while resenting the foul stuff they inhaled on the ground. Looking down, she saw the tidal mud flat the locals euphemistically called the Meadowlands. What a joke. A field of rotting vegetation doubling as a garbage dump, the area generated a stench that penetrated their clothing as well as their nostrils. Coupled with the persistent pollution, she could practically taste it.

  Toward the east, Sera glared at the barbed wire surrounding the squat concrete blocks that composed the Research Installation. She pictured the tiny figures of Military Police swarming the compound, searching for her and Iggy. With a shoot to kill order, no doubt. But the scientists had outfoxed them.

  Fierce joy detonated within the thirty-two-year-old. She would never, ever regret the decision to escape confinement in the Gulag that robbed her of her free will and individuality, no matter what the cost. Prison life was tough, but life as an outlaw would be hazardous. Now, she commandeered her own destiny. There was nothing left to lose.

  In 1989, Sera’s California home had engaged in a landmark event that became known as the Reagan Revolution. For a quarter of a century, basic human rights of Americans had been systematically trampled and eradicated. While the majority of voters seethed over the barrage of injustices, the bureaucracy used its sovereignty to manipulate outcomes at the polls.

  Fueled by indignation, inhabitants of the Golden State managed to nominate and elect a forward-thinking governor who, as a Republican, slipped beneath the watchful eye of Uncle Sam. Californians loved Ronald Reagan, especially Sera’s parents. He would change the future, they said, and she believed them. A former B-movie star with little political experience, the actor’s charisma rallied residents and galvanized them to secede from the nation.

  They almost succeeded.

  Aided by covert supporters in the military, the rebel leader organized mutinies at armed forces bases along the coast. He coordinated simultaneous demonstrations in the major cities—San Diego, Los Angeles, San Jose, Sacramento, and San Francisco. On July Fourth of ’89, the governor shut down state borders in preparation for the Independence Day uprising. Sera’s mom and dad, both professors at Berkeley, gently explained their desire to fight for reforms to ensure a better tomorrow for their only child. Sera begged them to let her come, knowing they would not take risks if she were present. And, she wanted to help. They would not be swayed.

  Together with like-minded neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Banks locked arms and marched through Alamo Square Park on a hilltop in the City by the Bay. The Painted Ladies, colorful Victorian row houses, observed from across the street. At the same time, citizens stormed the Presidio, the fort at the foot of the Golden Gate Bridge.

  Infuriated by the betrayal, President Oliver North ordered US troops airlifted into each of the traitorous cities to force the dissidents int
o submission. When marines began to beat back the protesters in San Francisco, the crowd surged. Sera’s parents were among eighteen shot and killed.

  The men and women in uniform conquered California and oppressed its populace into compliance. An anonymous sniper assassinated Governor Reagan, although everyone recognized the administration’s handiwork.

  Despite their devotion to their daughter and conviction for their cause, her mother and father’s sacrifice failed to achieve liberty for their eight-year-old orphan. Sera gritted her teeth.

  If only she had been able to make a difference.

  6:04 PM – EDT

  Sutherland leaned his back against the wall with arms folded as his superior finished scouring the lab in a futile hunt for clues. He had offered his assistance, only to be rebuffed. “I always knew Sera would find a way out of here one day. I mean, look at her, she’s brilliant, resourceful . . .”

  Zimmerman whipped his head around. “Are you in any way implying she’s smarter than me?”

  “No, sir!” The captain snapped to attention.

  Zimmerman frowned at him, as if sizing him up. “Nothing useful in here. Let’s go.”

  Sutherland followed him through the hallway. Of course the runaways had left no evidence as to their whereabouts; that had been his point. The men headed back to the colonel’s office. The commanding officer started shoving papers across his desk, sending a half-drunk Styrofoam cup of coffee careening to the floor. The subordinate winced at the rank smell.

  Picking up a red folder marked Top Secret: Authorized Personnel Only, Zimmerman brandished it in Sutherland’s face. “Project Vindictus is our single most crucial assignment. But I received a report today from the NASA review team that outlines how our physicists’ progress has been less than satisfactory.” His left eyelid twitched. “We have orders to produce a viable Anti-Matter warhead within two months. The government is counting on this weapon to turn the tide of the Stale War against the Russians. You know what’s at stake. Iggy and Sera are the best Anti-Matter experts we’ve got, and their knowledge of the program alone makes them a high security threat. Since they reside in your section, I am holding you personally responsible for locating them and getting them back on the job.”