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

Poipet was the main crossing travellers made when they moved between Thailand and Siem Reap in Northern Cambodia. The town had evolved from an irrelevant village to a swarming boomtown filled with overpriced bars, overpriced restaurants, and overpriced visas. Wild-eyed backpackers passed Dylan under a constant barrage of aggressive beggars, touts, and scammers.

Travellers looked upon the dusty town of Poipet, with its artificial stone gate topped with a small model of Angkor Wat, as a necessary rite of passage in this part of the world. Of course, the local Khmer police didn’t care because it was their people getting rich and the decadent Westerners getting ripped off.

The waiter brought an identical overpriced beer to Adam. Again, that greasy, fake smile came free.

“No wonder he’s happy,” said Adam. “Probably makes more than any other waiter in the country at these prices. Anyway, Sir Richard has briefed me. So, we’re going to war with Blackwind again. I wonder who it’s going to be this time.”

“You’ve been here longer than me. What’s it like?”

Adam sucked on his beer. “What’s what like?”

“Meeting Blackwind. I’ve never seen them in the field.”

“Stay on your guard. You’re normally not firing at them, just trying to get the job done whilst protecting your man. You get it done and then you get paid. What happens after that is none of our business.”

Dylan relaxed a little. He didn’t relish going up against other mercenaries. His jobs usually took the form of assassinating criminals and gang members who’d learned to shoot from Hollywood movies and video games. He didn’t fancy facing down crack shots who had his same tricks up their sleeves.

“How long has Sambath been inside that guesthouse?”

Dylan trained his eyes on the little guesthouse across the street. Like most of the accommodations here, a row of flags from Cambodia’s favourite tourist countries fanned out across the front of the building.

“At least a couple of hours. I haven’t seen anyone leave. I performed a sweep of the building. No back exit leads onto the street. I was ordered to follow Sambath until we find out where his boss Tep Prak is.”

Adam downed the rest of his beer in record time. “Looks like we might be here for a bit, then. Grab us another couple of beers.”

Dylan nodded and ordered the next round of beers. Although he felt more comfortable having someone like Adam around to support him, he’d wanted to do this on his own. Hopefully, by the time this was over, he would get his chance to shine. Sir Richard would learn to trust him.

Chapter Thirteen

Phnom Penh, Phnom Penh Province, Cambodia

Pen Thom had declined to meet James and Sinclair in-person. He sent a message with some blather that he couldn’t afford to take the risk unless it was an emergency. Instead, Thom would send his assistant Ros Heng in his place.

They entered a small, modest Chinese restaurant facing the Mekong River. Hidden behind a pair of glass doors, the restaurant was nearly empty. The simple décor had very little in the way of Chinese decoration, other than a few black-and-white pictures of the Great Wall and the growing skyline of Shanghai. A TV next to the door showed the Manchester United game, which the waiter watched from the entrance to the kitchen.

James and Sinclair chose the table closest to the door, with the TV above their heads. They ordered glasses of water, feeling it rude to begin their meal before Heng arrived with an update on their mission.

“Doesn’t this restaurant seem a tad lower class to invite the assistant of one of the leading government figures to?” asked Sinclair.

“It’s quiet. We look like ordinary tourists. Other than that Indian family in the corner, there’s nobody here to listen to us. I’m not interested in his personal taste, or yours for that matter.”

Sinclair shook his head in despair. The snob in Sinclair had come racing to the surface again. He’d never forgotten his Oxford roots and still attended every graduate reunion he could, proudly wearing the tie of Balliol College when he did.

Heng arrived on foot from around the corner. He wore a tailored white shirt, with one button open at the top and a pair of plain black trousers. Heng pushed his way into the air-conditioned restaurant wearing the same scowl he wore at their first meeting.

James and Sinclair rose to greet him. His scowl disappeared, but they still received little more than cool disdain.

“I’m sorry none of us speaks any Khmer, Mr. Heng.”

“My English is more than good enough.” An Asian twang accompanied his words. “I have your next target. Mr. Thom is most pleased with your excellent work. However, he expressed that he wants you to move quickly to maintain pressure.”

Heng settled into his seat as the waiter deigned to leave his football game for a minute to do the job he was being paid to do. Dressed shabbily, he clutched a battered and stained notebook in his hand. With a stubby pencil, he took their orders. Heng showed no desire to stay long by ordering just a glass of water.

He maintained his sullen and imposing stance as they waited for the waiter to set down a third glass of water next to them. James wasn’t sure what to make of him.

“Your next target is Prahn Sambath, the second in command of the remnants of the Khmer Rouge. He is a major supporter of General Narith. However, this is not just a simple act as before. You must capture him alive.”

“Alive?” James leaned forwards. “What’s the reason?”

Heng’s expression remained stoic. “Sambath will give us access to an even greater target, Tep Prak. Are you aware of him?”

“Oh, him,” Sinclair interjected. “I’ve heard about him. Every so often