Overlord by David Lynn Golemon Read Free Book Online Page A

Everett, a Navy SEAL.”
    To Vickers it felt as if he had a chance at getting his life back after reaching a starting point.
    “Now, quid pro quo, Hiram. I need a name myself, and it could be a name that interests you and your bosses far more than the ones you asked about. But before I tell you the name I want, tell me: Why do you need to find this Colonel Collins, especially with the shit storm getting ready to engulf the entire world?”
    “I have to find him and kill him”—he looked over at the taller Hendrix—“before he finds and kills me.” Once more Vickers looked away. “I may have inadvertently killed his sister.”
    This made the man formerly known as Charles Hendrix II purse his lips and shake his head.
    “I can understand your consternation, especially since this Group buried in the desert is the favorite of every president of the United States since Woodrow Wilson. And they protect this Group, Mr. CIA man—and I mean protect it.” He chuckled at Vickers and his little problem that made his own worry seem insignificant. “Yes, I guess you had better find this Collins, because if I remember correctly from my reports on him he seems to be a bit of a stone. Cold. Killer.” Hendrix emphasized each of the last three words.
    “Thanks for that little bit of info, Hendrix. Now, who is it you want me to find for you?”
    “You’ll find him in the desert also, just not the same desert as this mysterious Event Group. And believe me, this is a person who would be of much interest to not only your people, but many, many, others with names you cannot even afford to pronounce.”
    “The name, Hendrix, the name.”
    “He’s got a moniker that is a little off, but you should have no problem tracking him down with the right leads at your disposal.”
    “Please,” he said sarcastically, “I can find anyone, anywhere.” He smiled as the guards were opening the exercise yard. Hendrix’s time in the sun was up for the day. “After all, I found you, and you were buried by secret orders of the president.”
    “Touché, find me you did.”
    “The name of the man?” Vickers insisted.
    Hendrix stopped at the open gate and turned to face Vickers. “He’s not a man at all. I will explain to you in no uncertain terms that this name is one of the more valuable in the entire history of this planet.”
    Hendrix saw the confused look on the CIA man’s face.
    “I’m giddy with anticipation,” Vickers finally voiced.
    “The name is Mahjtic, or as his friends underneath Nellis call him—the Matchstick Man.”
    VANCOUVER, BRITISH COLUMBIA
    The blond man in the overly large swivel chair spun around and hung up the phone. He kept his fingers on the receiver and tapped out a gentle beat as he thought. He was well-dressed, wearing a black sport coat with a simple white shirt underneath. His blond hair had grown out over his collar and his face had been unshaven for the past seven months. He pursed his lips, still tapping the phone when the alarm bell pinged on his fax machine. Annie was far faster than he gave the Kansas woman credit for. She had been easy to turn and for this man it came easily and naturally. “After all,” he had told her when he gave her an advance of ten thousand dollars, “it’s not like you’re giving out the names of good guys here.” The justification was that he was searching for the killer of a dear friend and he thought that anyone visiting U.S. Federal Prisoner 275698 could lead him to that killer. It gave the single mother a chance at excitement in her life, and if she was caught sending him information, well, that was just the way the world worked, in his opinion.
    Colonel Henri Farbeaux stood while whistling and made his way to the large credenza by the wall and waited for the fax to finish. When it did he lifted the pages and looked at the face that had been sent to him from a cell phone straight from Leavenworth penitentiary. He looked from the features of the redheaded man to his