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

the screen. “He’s going to tour the police training academy. About the only place Rosher can feel safe in Guanajuato now. If anyone tries to attack him, he’ll have enough men.”

“Great. How does that help me? You’re not suggesting I try to kill him in front of the police, are you?”

Sinclair laughed. “It would be a challenge, but no. I think subtlety is the order of the day. This may be your chance to do something without anyone dying.”

“I’m all ears.”

Sinclair swivelled his chair away from the computer screen, his back to the colourful city beyond the small window.

“I took the liberty of performing some research, on his regular staff specifically –”

“How would you know anything about Rosher’s staff?”

Sinclair looked at him as if he were stupid. “We’re part of the most advanced private military organisation in the world. We can find out anything about anyone. Remember, we have a surveillance team that can tap into all but the most secure databases on this planet. If Rosher went to the bathroom, I could tell you what he was doing in there and the exact time he went there.”

James rolled his eyes. “Go on, then.”

“Rosher has had the same driver his entire political life. A man named Paulo Sarmiento. He’s getting on in years now, but he’s competent enough. He would have been driving the car when you took Rosher. And I suspect that Sarmiento will be driving the car again when he visits that police academy.”

James shrugged, unsure of what Sinclair was getting at.

“What do all drivers do when their bosses spend their time visiting somewhere? They make themselves scarce. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sarmiento went to some local taco stand or the bar.”

“It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility.”

“And if you can follow Sarmiento, you may be able to gain access to the car and…” Sinclair paused. “Who knows what possibilities you might have?”

James’ grin extended from ear to ear. He had never considered attacking Rosher through his staff. Despite how irritating Sinclair could be at times, he remembered why he was thankful to have him as his partner.

He paced around the room, thinking and formulating how to do it. The ideas fanned out before him, the entire plan coming together in his mind.

“I’ll follow the driver when he drops off Rosher at the police academy. Then I can take Sarmiento out and steal the car. This is the governor of Guanajuato, not royalty, so I’ll never need to get out of the car before he gets in. He won’t even think to look at me, and even if he does, I’ll have the doors locked so he can’t jump out.”

Sinclair gave him a little clap. “By George, I think he’s got it.”

“Pull up the road map for the police training academy. I want to get him out of there in one piece.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The police training academy lay outside the downtown area of Guanajuato on the border of a little neighbourhood named Mineral de Agua. This neighbourhood had only appeared in the last twenty years, built on scrubland. The growing Mexican middle class resided here.

James went ahead to scout out the area well in advance of the governor’s arrival. He inspected the fortified police training academy building from the front and the vast open fields at the back, which served as the firing range. The academy had a main road in front, with electrified fences protecting most of the compound. Armed officers toting shotguns guarded the main entrance. Most of them slumped against their posts, bored and inattentive.

As he studied the academy, he spotted the weakness in its defences. Cars that pulled up had little protection, other than the on-duty officers. The governor had to come out into the open for a brief moment to get into his car.

“No questions.” James handed over a wad of 500-peso notes, nearly a month’s pay, to the taxi driver who had brought him out here. “You’re mine for the day until I tell you to leave. You never saw my face and you don’t know who I am.”

“Okay,” said the taxi driver without looking at him.

The little green-and-white Tzuru idled across the way from the academy. Taxi drivers had a habit of parking wherever they wanted and hanging around for as long as they wanted. James wouldn’t look suspicious by sitting in the back of a taxi, with its tinted back windows.

“You want me to do anything?” said the driver.

“What’s your name?”

“Miguel.”

“Okay, Miguel, you can do whatever you want around here. I stay in the back of the car. When I tell you to do something, you do it. You’ll get double what you have now if you do everything right.”

James watched Miguel’s eyes light up in the rear-view mirror as he agreed to the bargain.

The wait set in. James kept checking his phone. He counted down the hours and the minutes, watching the sun trace its path across the sky. Miguel regularly got out to smoke and chat with his fellow drivers at the little taqueria a couple of blocks down the busy road. James never took his eyes off the police academy fifty feet away.

About thirty minutes before the governor was due to arrive, the driver returned to the taxi as the police presence grew. The couple of men on the gate and the few students eating at a taco truck to the side of the academy grew to encompass a small personal army of Federal police.

His pulse accelerated with every passing second. As always in the final minutes before an operation began, strong feelings of nausea gripped his stomach. Rolling down the window slightly, he lit a cigarette to try to control the stress that threatened to derail his nerve.

The convoy arrived just as James finished his cigarette. He stubbed