Ionshaker (Part I) by Felix Timothy (phonics story books .txt) đ
- Author: Felix Timothy
Book online «Ionshaker (Part I) by Felix Timothy (phonics story books .txt) đ». Author Felix Timothy
Praise for Ionshaker
Nuclear-Powered Thriller - âIONSHAKER by Timothy Felix is a tense thriller from the start. I really enjoyed this read and have to say that it's a page turner throughout with characters that effortlessly pull you deeper into the web of IONSHAKER. If you love a fast paced thriller then this is one to buy. Hats of to Timothy Felix! Can't give too much away to potential readers.....it wouldn't be fair.â â Annie Frame, author of IMPRINT
A heart-Stopping, Action-Packed Thrill Ride! â âI felt the author has a great premise for the storyline and one can imagine how the device can be used to gain control over any country if they have itâŠI feel overall the author did an exceptional job with his novel.â â Kat, http://reviewsfromtheheart.blogspot.com
A worthwhile thriller â âBrimming with memorable characters, thrilling action shots, theories, titles, murder and more, Ionshaker is a quick-paced, heart thumping rollercoaster. Felix Timothy takes you on a ride from scene to scene, giving the reader glimpses to pull the clues from to determine who is responsible. If you enjoy reading mystery thrillers with a lot of chases, action and good detective work, give Ionshaker a try.â - Wendy Hines
Dedication
The First has to be you John Kioko. You loved my story right from its inception, despite its many shortcomings back then. Thanks man, you made me a writer. Victor Omare a.k.a âPildashâ you can probably tell this story better. You know it off head, right? Thanks for your support. And Mom, thanks for everythingâŠand I mean âkila kitu.â
Preface
I must start by thanking all those who read my first draft three years ago, back then titled No Place to Hide. And Iâm calling it a draft because looking back it really was a draft - not a book. I was very green to this kind of serious writing. I hadn't published anything before, and so I didnât really understand the protocols, the techniques, the intricate strategies, how to expertly use few words without sounding shallow, or how to play around with many words without coming off as superfluous, to concoct a legendary, enthralling and addictive work of fiction. And I can tell you right now - it's not a joke!
Friends, family, potential fans (donât ask me why Iâm saying potential â itâs complicated), those I know and those I don't, those I've met and those I'm yet to, thank you so much for your support. If you understand my history, then you know this is a milestone for me.
Anyways, my point is, it has been a long journey but Iâm finally here â you are about to read my story. But if you wanna know where Iâm coming from, read my blog http://feltim.blogspot.com. Youâll be surprised.
Prologue
Two weeks earlierâŠ
âPlease,â she begged Hugo.
âThose are the terms,â Hugo responded with stern eyes.
âIâll do anything except this,â she begged with tears lingering in her eyes.
âI donât want you to do anything except this.â
âPlease donât kill me or him. He is totally harmless, I assure you. Come on Hugo we can work something out.â
Hugo took a moment then said, âOkay, we sure can. Weâll fake your death and give you a new identity. From next week, youâll be called Kemi Rolling, born and raised in Harlem, New York.â
âWhat about him, I canât do that to him - I love him.â
âMy understanding is you were assigned to keep an eye on him not to love him, but instead you married him?â Hugo chuckled then added you knew the risks and you knew this day would come. You love him, I donât care, thatâs your problem. All I need you to do is get me the device. Get me Ionshaker.â
âIâve lived with him, he knows nothing, heâs not a threat, I can assure you.â
âHe wasnât, but now he is,â Hugo replied coldly.
âWhy now, he hasnât done anything. What changed?â
âIronside and Ionshaker â thatâs what. Just remember. If you do love him the way you say you do, youâll do what I tell you. Thatâs my final position. So what is it gonna be, Kemi?â
She turned away from him wiping her tears with the back of her hands then asked after a while, âWhen am I supposed to die â this fake death I mean?â
âIn two weeks.â
http://feltim.blogspot.com, http://www.facebook.com/TheFeltim, Twitter ID: TheFeltim
Part I
The Manhunt
Titles.
The first lady of the house on Foothill Road Beverly Hills California, the loving wife, the courteous neighbor, the one and only Mrs. Brooke Woodley had just been awarded more new titles: the late, the deceased, the former, the murder victim.
She had been shot dead in her own house, in her own living room, now titled âthe crime scene.â
The LAPD were the first to arrive at the house, oh sorry, the crime scene, and were sniffing around, fervently scavenging for signs, facts, suggestions and indications - searching for evidence.
But their stage presence was short lived.
The pompous arrival of the big boys, the tiptop connoisseurs of crime scenes, the so raved about FBI grabbed all the attention from the media, the neighbors and other idlers.
Yet, even these cognoscente investigators were just like dogs, with leaders of the pack. Two detectives â a somewhat conceited man in his thirties, the lead detective, and a blond in her late twenties with a pretty face and the body of a model, the deputy to the self-important man â stood out in the elite pack as the leaders.
The two hurriedly entered the house.
âBrett Dawson, FBI. This is my deputy Nicole Anderson. We understand that you were looking into a robberyâ am I correct?â Brett asked quickly as if he had come with all the answers.
âYeah, something like that. Someone called 911 and gave this houseâs address.â
âWhat did the caller say?â
âNot much. He just rambled that heâd heard a gunshot then cut the call.â
âAnd what did you find when you got here?â
âHer,â the officer said gesturing to Brookeâs body. The three started moving to the center of the living room.
âAnd what do we have here?â Brett asked rhetorically stepping closer to the covered body and after squatting, he gently lifted the white sheet to take a peek. But as soon as he lifted the sheet, camera shutters began clicking as camera flashes played over the partially revealed, blanched face.
âAt first we thought it had been a violent robbery but when we looked closely we realized that nothing had been stolen and there wasnât any indication to support a robbery theory. So we called you guys,â the officer explained to the two federal agents.
âTell us about your robbery theory,â Brett said straightening up to listen to the officerâs response.
âAn armed burglar broke into the house to loot, Brooke returned home much earlier than anticipated and stumbled upon the thief in the living room, startling the armed thief into firing a shot.â
Then quietly Brett threw random glances around the cozy living room. In the meantime, his aficionado counterparts â the forensic team â were busy foraging the house for any sort of clue: foot prints, finger prints, hairs, scratches, broken glass, vandalized locks, you name it.
The murder victim had been bumped off around 7:15 pm and by the time the police arrived at the house, Brooke Woodley had already been titled â the late.
The array of photos embellishing the living room sent a clear message: Brookeâs marriage had been bliss. The faces of the newlyweds were full of life, beaming with joy and happiness.
For reasons best known to himself, Brett was strangely drawn to one of the wedding photos. In the photo, the husband was kissing his precious new wife on the lips.
Nicole quietly watched the lead detective stare at the picture like heâd been struck by some form of brain freeze. The blonde couldnât see anything peculiar about the photo. She wondered what he was seeing.
But little did she know that Brett was actually pitying the husband, whoâd arrive home at any time after a typical excruciating nine-to-five and find the love of his life â the Juliet in his own interpretation of the epic romantic story, his Rose in his conjured version of the Titanic movie, his young beautiful wife â spread out on their velvet carpeted living room floor, dead and covered in gore under a white sheet.
It was still very early to accurately profile the murder and the reasons behind it now that the robbery theory had been ruled out.
Across the room, Brett saw the murder weapon on a coffee table â a small J-frame Smith and Wesson air-weight revolver â properly sealed in a transparent evidence bag, after the gun had been recovered in the hallway leading to the back door.
He dipped into his jacket to take out a pair of gloves as he walked to the coffee table then lifted up the aluminum alloy framed 642 model, with stainless steel barrels and cylinders, to check it out.
âOnly one bullet is missing,â the officer said as Brett emptied the barrel.
The cop was right, had it been a robbery, broken glass, twisted locks, scratches or abrasions of some kind would be found in the house. Moreover, nothing appeared to have been pinched from the house.
âThe officer is right,â Nicole told Brett who was still studying the gun.
âAny theories?â Brett asked her without looking at her as he returned the gun into the evidence bag.
âShe must have either pissed somebody off so badly, or knew something she wasnât supposed to,â Nicole answered quickly surprising the two men at how quickly she came up with that.
The two men remained quiet; they didnât have anything better than the deputyâs theory.
âI guess its time to go now,â the officer excused himself as soon as the coroner and his assistant rolled a stretcher to the center of the living room in order to pick Brookeâs body.
âJust one question before you go,â Brett turned quickly.
âSure.â
âWhat about the husbandâŠâ Brett pretended to have just forgotten the name. The truth is he didnât know it.
âTrey Woodley? Weâve been trying to reach him ever since when we arrived but our calls have been going straight to voicemail,â the officer said with a slight smirk on the face.
âWhat about his friends, colleaguesâŠ?â
âThose we contacted last saw him at workâŠno one knows where he is.â
âThank you officer,â Brett said shaking his hand as Nicole grinned at him and the officer reciprocated with a slight nod then turned to go. To discover the root cause, Brett and Nicole had to look beyond what was on the table. They had to dig for motives, enemies and secrets.
Brett was still looking around when he heard the
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