Overthrow (A James Winchester Thriller Book 2) (James Winchester Series) by James Samuel (the gingerbread man read aloud .TXT) 📕

“No,” James snapped. “This is our only chance. He’ll take the family away if we try to come back later. Someone that high up isn’t stupid.”

“Remember Mexico.”

James did remember Mexico. Blackwind field agent Diego Gutierrez had fallen in a fight resulting from an operation almost identical to this. The difference now was they didn’t have the cover of a large house to protect them. Blake loved a firefight, but if Prahn brought a small army they’d eventually find themselves overwhelmed.

“James, you know I prefer to avoid violence when we can, but you must be prepared to go to any length to protect yourself and complete the mission.”

James tightened his grip on the phone. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that if you do have to use his family to get him to stand down, you do it. Do it without thinking about it. If you have to shoot one of them, do it.”

“No.”

“James, this is serious. Don’t die on a farm in Cambodia. There are better places to die than this one. Nobody will think less of you if you do what you have to do to survive. Remember who we are.”

James shook his head. He wouldn’t start executing women and children to accomplish his goals. Not if the Khmer Rouge closed in on him from all sides and it was his only way out. He’d rather fight to the death and accept his fate than live with the guilt of executing innocents. The family had done nothing other than to have the misfortune of being related to a Khmer Rouge leader.

“I won’t do it, Sinclair.”

“James, see sense –”

James ended the call and switched it to flight mode. He refused to hear this. He would never consider it as an option. As he ventured into the hut where Blake had chosen to rest before, he tried to fight the natural urge to do anything to survive. Unfortunately for him, if he wouldn’t do it, he knew a man who would.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The moon shone over a brilliant sky. Free from the blinding glow of the city, the stars decorated the endless expanse with little lanterns. An errant cloud passed close to the cool silver moon, kissing its edges with a momentary warmth.

James knew the time had come. Something in the air felt strange, like the calm before the deep plunge under the waves. He had no proof. Sinclair wouldn’t have believed or understood him. But he knew it was coming. Prahn Sambath was on his way.

Blake roused from his hut, sweeping across the yard, kicking the dirt aside. The little fluorescent light bulbs cast a sterile illumination across the centre of each hut, a beacon for the flies and mosquitoes.

“Do you feel it?” asked James.

“Feel what?” he replied.

“He’s going to come tonight. We won’t be here for long.”

Blake looked at him for a long time. He perched his sunglasses on his forehead. “I’m getting that impression as well, you know? He ain’t stupid and it seemed pretty animated on the phone.”

“Do we have a plan?”

Blake looked around him, glancing at the family inside. Most of them were already sleeping. Rith remained wide awake, his hands still bound.

“Stay close to the family. We can’t afford to have them sneaking away. Besides, we might need them as hostages.”

James arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t they already hostages?”

Blake gave him a long look but said nothing.

The chirping of the crickets and the occasional shuffle from inside the hut accompanied them as they waited for what was to come next. The family snatched moments of sleep where they could, waking from their dreams to relive the terror of imprisonment, before drifting away again. All but Rith who seemed never to close his eyes, even for a second.

James had already taken a turn of the area during his break. The family had several fields leading down to the road. Prahn would come at night as the little hill in which the huts stood claimed the high ground. They didn’t have much of a plan, only two Glock 19s. This wasn’t the place James wanted to fight a siege, especially at night.

Finally, it happened. James’ head snapped up at the distant sound of an engine. The hum of the vehicle moved across the distance. Suddenly, it stopped. James nodded to Blake in the doorway of the hut.

“Gag him,” said James.

If anyone dared to cry out, Rith would be the first, so Blake grabbed a filthy rag from the makeshift kitchen and stuffed it into Rith’s mouth. The boy almost choked, but then fell quiet.

“You take the right; I’ll take the left. Let them see where we’re keeping them,” James ordered. “Lure them into a trap, and we can end this before it turns into a massacre.”

“You got a signal for when to jump in?”

“When you start hearing me fire. That’ll be the signal.”

Blake gave him a hard look but moved out into the darkness, into position. James took one last glance at the family behind him and then ventured beyond the safety of the fluorescent lights. He found a spot in a little half-dug ditch. He still had a view between the huts. Nobody could get at the Sambath family without him seeing them.

The long minutes passed. The tension gave his mind time to work, an opportunity to torment himself with all the worst-case scenarios. James let them run, having long given up trying to suppress his fears. His senses heightened, drawn in by the tranquil Cambodian night.

Then it came. A sound that didn’t fit in. Boots snapping the twigs of a dead tree. The crunch of hard-packed soil beneath a leather sole. James drew his weapon and tightened his grip. He wanted someone to come