The Roswell Conspiracy by Boyd Morrison Read Free Book Online Page A

black hoodie stretched over her lithe build to the stylish shag of shoulder-length chestnut hair. She wore no makeup and none was needed. With creamy brown skin, rounded cheekbones, and full lips, she had no trouble drawing furtive glances from the young police officers.
    Despite all that had already happened this morning, it was this moment that really shocked Tyler. He blinked a few times, not believing that he was seeing her for the first time in over fifteen years, half a world away from where they’d last seen each other.
    Eyes like melted chocolate stared at him in surprise, and memories came flooding back like a cresting wave.
    “Tyler?” she said. “What the hell is going on?”
    Tyler opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. He turned to Fay. “Your granddaughter is Jess McBride?”
    Fay’s sheepish look told him that she had known from the beginning that Jess had been Tyler’s college girlfriend.

SIX
    It had been four hours since Popovich and Golgov, traveling under the names Foreman and Blaine, were supposed to report in that they had disposed of Fay Turia. But when Vladimir Colchev checked his messages upon landing in Alice Springs, there were none waiting.
    Before his three-hour Qantas flight from Sydney, Colchev had meticulously rechecked the Icarus prototype he’d procured from Nadia Bedova. As he’d expected, it was complete and ready for use. She wouldn’t have risked sabotaging it because he might have noticed during the handover.
    As Colchev had been finishing the examination in Sydney, Popovich texted him a brief message.
    We are in her house. She has engraving but no X. Orders?
    To Colchev the information was both interesting and unfortunate. Interesting because he didn’t know the engraving still existed. However, he had a high-resolution photo of it, so it was worthless to him. The unfortunate part was that she had no xenobium. If she had, it would have made his mission much more simple.
    Colchev had texted back immediately.
    Destroy engraving. Term woman.
    He didn’t need any loose ends at this late juncture. Termination of the Turia woman was the best option, and he’d had every confidence that his men would carry out his orders. That was why the lack of communication with Popovich since then was so troubling.
    Colchev exited the plane and emerged from the covered staircase to a cloudless azure sky. The midday sun beat down, but its rays could heat the mild winter breeze to only a few degrees above room temperature.
    Waiting for Colchev at the gate was Dmitri Zotkin, a whippet-lean operative whose trim mustache and beard matched his short dark hair. Dressed in khakis and a denim shirt, he could have passed for a guide coming to take Colchev on a tour of the outback.
    They exited the airport without a word, and Colchev tossed his duffel into the rear of Zotkin’s SUV. They both got in, and Zotkin drove out of the airport.
    “Why haven’t we heard from Golgov or Popovich?” Colchev said.
    Zotkin cleared his throat. “They failed in their mission.”
    “How do you know?”
    “We’ve been monitoring news reports from Queenstown. Police say that two men were killed in an apparent kidnapping attempt.”
    “Damn it! Is the woman alive?”
    Zotkin nodded. “Her house was burned to the ground, but she survived. No word on her condition.”
    “What about our men? Have they been identified?”
    “No names have been released.”
    Like all of the men who were in Colchev’s operation, Golgov and Popovich spoke fluent English in a neutral midwestern accent, and their passports were stellar fakes. Still, their deaths added to the mission’s risk.
    “Is there anything leading back to us?” Colchev said.
    Zotkin shook his head. “I’ve already sent the scramble signal to their phones. Any data or phone numbers on them have been destroyed.”
    Colchev pounded the dashboard with his fist, shaking it until the glove box popped open. He closed it, sat back, and sighed. “They were