Failed State (A James Winchester Thriller Book 1) (James Winchester Series) by James Samuel (best selling autobiographies TXT) 📕

The two men grasped hands. Diego wore a blue short-sleeved shirt. Like most of the employees of Blackwind, he bore no tattoos and no other identifying marks. His short, spiky hair and thin-framed glasses made him look more like a student fresh out of university than a gun for hire.

“The Enchiladas Tricolor are terrific here,” Diego said. “I think I’ve just talked myself into getting them.”

James went with him to the counter. They ordered the enchiladas and a jar of Jamaica juice between them. It didn’t take long for the jug of deep red, sweet hibiscus tea to arrive. Diego poured them both a glass.

Diego raised his glass. “I suppose we should toast to working together for the first time.”

James joined him in that. After what Sinclair had told him about Diego, he lacked any real enthusiasm for this new partnership.

“So, what do you need?”

James explained the contract and everything that had transpired thus far. Diego had an intricate knowledge of the different cartels and their leaders. He stopped James when he tried to tell him about Quezada. “I’m well aware of him,” he said like a man who didn’t need to be told about his job.

“I didn’t know Montoya had a sister called Jessi,” Diego mused. “Still, I’m sure we can get her back. Quezada won’t be guarding her personally, I’m sure. They normally put a sicario on hostages.”

“What’s a sicario?”

“Narco talk for a hitman. They have the falcons, who act as spies. They watch the streets, follow people, and report on anything interesting. Those are the lowest members in a cartel. Then you have the sicarios, the people who carry out the killings, and they report to the lieutenants. Those are the leaders on the ground in any cartel. Above them, you have the men who control everything.”

“I see.”

“Finding Montoya’s sister will be a matter of talking to the right people. So far, we have something to go on, Dolores Hidalgo. That’s where we’ll have to start.”

James finished his drink and leaned in to listen closely. “And who would we talk to?”

“Santa Maria de Guadalupe, of course.” Diego chuckled.

James tilted his head. “I’m not following you.”

“Find someone from that cartel and make them talk. That shouldn’t be too difficult. Most of the soldiers are idiots. If it weren’t for drugs, they’d be working in an Oxxo putting bottles of coke in the refrigerators.”

James couldn’t help but smile at that. Oxxo was the government-run convenience store that covered all of Mexico. They rarely closed, and they often put more than one on the same street. The barely literate employees worked for almost nothing, the job of last resort for the locals.

“In any case, we find one and make him talk.”

“You make it all sound so simple, Diego.”

The waiter brought them their enchiladas. The dish was split into three sections, with a red, white, and green sauce to match the colours of the Mexican flag. Casa Ofelia served everything on wide, clay plates, with hand-painted white swirls around the edges.

“Ah, finding a narco isn’t difficult. When they dress like they do and cover themselves in tattoos, you can spot them a mile away. You just need to go to the right areas. You’re not going to find them in the middle of Dolores, that’s for sure.”

James picked up his fork. “Well, that’s that, then, I suppose.”

“That’s that,” Diego agreed.

James tucked into his enchiladas, already more confident that Diego was the man for him. He liked a man who got straight to the point.

Chapter Nine

Dolores Hidalgo, Guanajuato, Mexico

Dolores Hidalgo achieved its claim to fame as the cradle of the 1810 revolution. Even now, each night they recreated the famous call to revolution by famous priest Miguel Hidalgo. According to Diego, the 1810 revolution was one of the only armed conflicts Mexico had ever won.

“Don’t you have a car?” asked James as they approached Dolores Hidalgo on a rickety public bus.

“I do. I took the liberty of parking it in the town late last night before I came to pick you up. I don’t want to drive into town with everyone knowing my license plate number. These narcos are smart, and Dolores falls within their territory.”

James nodded. He still didn’t think much of the organisation of the cartels. He’d seen what the real mafia could do and how single families had survived for generations without being destroyed. After what he’d seen and heard, he couldn’t say the same for the aspiring narco dynasties.

The town of Dolores Hidalgo lay on the border of the relatively tranquil state of San Luis de Potosi. Dolores provided safety for its people by keeping them as far from the narco conflicts as possible.

“We’ll take a taxi to where I left my car,” said Diego. “I left it in El Centro and had someone watch it. The narcos don’t show their faces too much there. It’s too visible and it has too many tourists.”

Diego hailed a taxi driver in hardened Spanish. The driver, seemingly intimidated by Diego’s demeanour, hurried to open the back doors for them.

The ride into El Centro took no more than ten minutes. Contrasting to the hustle and bustle of Guanajuato City, their driver had no trouble weaving between cars and cutting people off. Diego refused to say a word during the journey. His lack of desire to speak made James wonder if the taxi drivers of the city reported back to the cartels if they heard anything juicy.

When the driver dropped them off at the central plaza, he couldn’t move fast enough to flee the area. Diego didn’t turn his eyes away from the departing taxi until it had vanished around the corner.

“I don’t trust him,” said Diego. “Not one bit.”

“No, I would have never got that idea.” James made no effort to hide his sarcasm.