Overthrow (A James Winchester Thriller Book 2) (James Winchester Series) James Samuel (reading tree TXT) 📖

loyal he’s going to be, and we can’t risk the whole city knowing what we’re doing. The Frenchman said most foreigners don’t even know he exists. Got to go, he’s coming back.”

The line went dead. As James put his phone back into his pocket and refocused on Nhek, he was scaling the hill again with a fisherman right behind him, a glowing smile on his face.

“Mr. James. I want you to meet my friend. This is Preap. He used to work for Mr. Chea.”

James raised his eyebrows in surprise as he looked the fisherman up and down. His hair was rough-cut like he’d done it himself with a pair of shears. The few splays of hair remaining stuck out at all angles upon a crown punished by the sun.

“He speaks perfect English. Perfect,” said Nhek.

Preap bowed his head with his hands clasped together. A traditional Buddhist sign of respect.

“Nice to meet you, Preap. You worked for Mr. Chea?”

Preap spat in the grass at the mention of his name. “I used to work for him. I worked for him for years until he discarded me.”

“Why did he do that?” James was surprised by his accent, free of the intonations of the majority of the local Khmer. “You speak very good English, by the way.”

“I studied in London many years ago, during the days of Kampuchea. I missed what happened in my country. When I returned, I was hired by Mr. Chea as his fixer. Whenever he had trouble with the police or the courts, I would smooth things over. Five years ago, he replaced me. Claimed I didn’t have enough loyalty to the country because I never suffered as everyone else did.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“That Mr. Chea.” Preap spat again. “I would drown him in my river if I could.”

James noted how he described the entire Mekong as his river. Surprised by the educated man reduced to nothing more than a fisherman, James knew he could trust this man. Someone like him should have never ended up like this, impoverished, doomed to die from some malevolence well before his time.

“Mr. James wants to know how to find Mr. Chea,” said Nhek with undisguised excitement.

“To find him? Why would you want to find him?” Preap put his hands on his hips. “You don’t want to do business with him. Look at what he did to me. A loyal servant. I never wronged him, and he threw me aside because of my political beliefs.”

James hesitated over what to say next. He couldn’t just walk up to a random Khmer and tell him he wanted to murder his former boss. He’d only just met Nhek and there was no guarantee he could trust him or Preap. It could be a setup.

“Let’s just say I think that Mr. Chea has outlived his usefulness.”

“You see, you see?” Nhek laughed. “This is a good barang. I bring him to you because I know this is a good man.”

Preap gave James a searching look. “I would agree with you on that, but you must understand that I have a difficult time trusting people after what happened to me.”

James shrugged. “Then I thank you for your help, but I don’t have the time to spare. I intend on meeting Mr. Chea as soon as possible.”

He turned away and put one foot on the edge of the tuk-tuk.

“Wait, wait.” Preap lunged forwards. “I know more than Mr. Chea. I know his friends. I met them all at different times, even worked for them. Let me help you. I have nothing more to live for now. If I’m to die on the banks of this river, I would prefer it if I could satisfy my need for revenge.”

James stepped off the tuk-tuk, trying to hide his smirk. His plan had worked to perfection.

“Mr. James is a good man. He can help you,” Nhek fawned at Preap’s shoulder. “I see him, and I know.”

James approached Preap. “Very well. All I need to know is whether Mr. Chea will be at The Palace tonight? I want to know where his office is and what the best way would be to get to him.”

Preap nodded and accepted a cigarette from Nhek. He sucked on it like he wanted to extract the filter from the tobacco. The fisherman did this until the burning end of the cigarette reached the bottom of the filter.

“Mr. Chea is always at The Palace, yes. His office is on the third floor, the very top floor. You will see it because of the double doors. None of the other upstairs rooms look like that. To get to the top floor, you must be a premium client.”

“Yes, yes, my friend told me about that.”

Preap nodded. “What he might not have told you is that the premium clients on the top floor are reserved for… children.”

James bit his tongue at the thought. He noted the slight pause, the slight hesitation in Preap’s voice. Did he have a problem with child prostitution, or did he believe the foreigner might recoil at the thought?

“Would that guarantee me a visit to the top floor?”

“Most certainly. Times have changed in Cambodia,” said Preap. “It’s no longer acceptable for barang to sleep with children. Not that the numbers have changed so much, it’s just it only happens behind closed doors now. You’ll never see it advertised.”

James nodded.

“What you need to do is whisper it in the ear of the manager in the bar. He also controls access to the upper floors. There won’t be any questions as long as you pay upfront, in advance, with American dollars.”

He took a deep breath. James didn’t mind doing anything to achieve his mission, but he drew the line at child prostitution. Part of him wanted to just shoot his way to the top, but he