Interdiction (A James Winchester Thriller Book 3) (James Winchester Series) James Samuel (ebook voice reader txt) 📖

"I've got guns."

"Good, see you in a few minutes."

James put down the phone and got into the car. Sinclair sat bolt upright, staring straight ahead.

"Who were you calling?" he asked.

"Kemal. He will be joining us for this."

Sinclair nodded and leaned his head against the seat. James hadn't yet told him what Plemenac had revealed about Kemal before he died. James turned the key in the ignition and the engine sprang to life. He soon banished that new car smell by lighting a cigarette. Everyone else had used him. Now it was his turn to do the using.

Kemal met James at the bus station, as promised. They drove their respective vehicles out of Sarajevo towards Croatia. James had noticed the change in Kemal since Ratko's death. He bore a permanent scowl, as if Plemenac's cutter had slashed him across the face instead. The dark side of Kemal had come out into the open and he made no effort to hide it.

After night fell, James told Sinclair everything Plemenac had said to him about Kemal and Miran. When he said it aloud to someone else, it made even more sense. The deceased ambassador hadn't told a lie. These people were both as bad as each other. With Plemenac gone, it was down to Kemal to unwittingly carry out his wishes. This country would burn in a matter of days if James didn't resolve it tonight. He had to carry out this vengeance, not just for himself, but for the sake of Bosnia. Even if he only postponed the inevitable, he could at least take some pride in that.

Sleet fell throughout their nightward journey towards Croatia. Sinclair clutched at fits of sleep, only to jerk awake when a vehicle coming in the opposite direction dazzled them. James, on the other hand, never wavered. He went over everything that had happened and everything he endeavoured to make happen in his mind, sometimes muttering parts of it under his breath.

"Make the call," said James as they stopped at a rest stop just before the Croatian border. "Do it now."

"What call?" Sinclair yawned.

"To Gallagher. I want to know what we're about to face."

"He won't tell me."

"I think he will if you play it right. You owe me, Sinclair. Put it on speaker. I want to hear everything."

Sinclair sighed and grabbed his phone from the dashboard. His pale countenance appeared almost as white as the melting snow.

"Sir, are you there?

"Wood?" Gallagher's harsh tones filled the car. "Yes, I can hear you loud and clear."

Sinclair's Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "James left Sarajevo a few hours ago to get Nazifa. I wanted to make you aware of that."

"Noted, Wood. I will send a message to Maugham. He is in the cabin now."

"Sir, are you sure Maugham is going to be enough for this? We have big problems if he succeeds."

James tightened his grip on the steering wheel as if it were Gallagher's neck.

"Of course. Maugham has some support from some local Croatians. Two or three is more than enough for his purposes. Winchester may be talented, but he is not invincible. I have full confidence that Maugham will get the job done."

Sinclair's voice wavered. "What would you like me to do, sir?"

"Prepare to return to London." Gallagher paused. "I understand this is difficult for you, but I am glad that you have seen the light. You have seen the necessity of what is about to happen. Blackwind cannot survive with Winchester’s recklessness. I will ensure you are adequately rewarded for your service."

"Thank you, sir."

"Good, report to me as soon as you land in London."

The line went dead. Sinclair shook in his seat. He seemed on the point of vomiting.

"You heard everything," he said.

"Two or three Croatians plus Maugham. Doable, but not a guarantee."

"I'm really sorry about all this, James. I panicked. I didn't know what to do with Gallagher on top of me like that. All I wanted was to protect you and save our jobs. It wasn't my idea to lure you into this trap."

"No." James reclined in the driver's seat. "No, I don't believe it was your idea because that's not who you are. I hold Gallagher entirely responsible for this. When this is over, I'm going to go a long way from here."

"Any thoughts?" said Sinclair, weakly.

"No. Somewhere warm. Somewhere where nobody knows me."

A long, uncomfortable silence settled between the pair. There was no more talking to do. Kemal returned from the rest room and motioned to them with a plate-sized hand. The last leg of the journey had begun.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

A milky early morning light greeted them as they crossed the Croatian border. The village of Mrkopalj consisted of little more than a collection of houses dropped randomly into the foothills of the Croatian landscape. Large groupings of trees covered the upper areas of these hills. Kemal led the way, his taillights forming a beacon in this strange and unfamiliar land.

Kemal had told James in the past that he had an intimate knowledge of the border areas of Bosnia and Croatia. He wondered how many of these lonely farms he'd encamped at on his way to war, or how many of these back roads he'd followed when smuggling for Jakob Mlakar after the war. James checked the GPS on his phone. They were mere minutes from the town Nazifa had mentioned.

A single road wound into the mountain. At one time, it must have been a logging track of some kind. It looked relatively well-tended. Right now, snow lay in thick drifts along the edges, forming a natural border.

James climbed out of the car at the bottom of a hill. Kemal joined him for a final cigarette before beginning the business of the day.

"Do