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

“Get ready,” James said.

Rosher met several local police dignitaries at the entrance, shaking hands and posing for the assembled photographers. James didn’t see Rosher’s wife, but his security detail stuck close to him. They raked the scene like hawks.

“Did you see the car that man got out of?” asked James. “The man taking all the pictures and shaking everyone’s hands.”

“Yes.”

“I want you to follow that car when he pulls away. Stay at a distance. Try to get one or two cars between him so he doesn’t suspect anything.”

“Yes.”

James didn’t know if Miguel really understood. Each time he responded it sounded so nonchalant, like taking a normal fare.

After Rosher made his way through the open gates, with his security detail in tow, his car trundled away. To James’ surprise, the cars didn’t move in convoy now. One stayed behind and the other went in a completely different direction.

“Keep on him.” James practically stood up in the taxi as he watched the front window over Miguel’s shoulder.

Sarmiento drove down the road and took a turn onto a small street. James’ taxi inched forwards toward the turning. A furious blare of the horn from the car behind didn’t rattle Miguel.

“Hold,” said James.

James observed the black car ahead as it made its way down the little road, before pulling over to the side. A number of taxis congregated there. James didn’t need to ask questions. He knew Sarmiento had stopped off at a taco stand at the side of the road. Now he knew what he had to do.

“Alright,” said James. “Drive right up to them. I’ll get out of the car and then you can go, understand?”

“Yes.”

James passed the other half of the promised bounty across the seat to Miguel. He stuffed it inside his shirt pocket greedily.

James slid across the backseats to the door that would take him out right next to Sarmiento. He had the old driver’s image imprinted on his mind. He wouldn’t forget it in a hurry. The taxi driver drew parallel with the rear car at the taco stand, and James jumped out, his Glock 19 by his side.

James spotted Sarmiento standing at the taco stand. Even if he didn’t know his face, he recognised the driver. They’d forced him to wear a stupid peaked cap and a black jacket, like an American limo driver.

The old man whirled around at his footsteps, fear etched on his face. His eyes darted to the gun hanging at James’ side. In that instant, he knew. James never took his gaze off Sarmiento’s eyes. A man’s eyes could tell everything about the next turn his life would take. Sarmiento didn’t want a fight. He was too old for fighting.

“Sarmiento, that’s your name, right?” asked James.

Sarmiento nodded in resignation.

“Good. I’m going to need you to cooperate. If you do everything I say, you’ll be fine. If not, then…”

“Yes, yes.” Sarmiento gulped. “I understand. You’re the gringo, aren’t you? The one who kidnapped Alfredo the last time.”

“I am.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

“Maybe.”

“What do you want from me?”

James loosened the grip on his gun, realising Sarmiento wouldn’t put up a fight now. The couple of taxi drivers sitting at the plastic stools and tables kept their heads down. Mexicans knew what to do when guns came into play. Pretending that nothing ever happened could mean the difference between life and death.

“Give me your hat, your coat, and the keys to the car.”

Sarmiento obeyed, handing them over with shaking hands.

“Now I need you to tell me the procedure for this. When Rosher leaves that academy, what are you expected to do? Do you normally open the door for him?”

“No, no, none of that. I’m just his driver. One of his assistants will do that for him before they get into the other cars. You saw the other two cars protecting Alfredo’s car, didn’t you?”

“Good. So, there’s no reason to believe he’ll suspect anything when he gets into your car, correct? He’ll assume that you’re the one driving him.”

“I suspect so.”

“Give me your phone.”

“My… phone?” Sarmiento’s voice quivered at that.

“Yes, your phone. Give it to me.”

Sarmiento hesitated. James couldn’t help but let out a little smile, knowing full well that Rosher’s driver would faithfully call to warn him the moment he left. That was why the old man had complied so readily, after all.

James raised the gun towards Sarmiento.

“Wait, wait. Okay, you can have my phone.” Sarmiento hurried to seize it from his pocket. “Here, my friend. Just… please don’t hurt me.”

James held the phone in his hands, carefully inspecting it before depositing it in his pocket. James suspected something was amiss and ordered Sarmiento to turn out his pockets, which he did. He soon took possession of the backup phone Sarmiento carried.

Satisfied that Sarmiento had no further use, he gestured at him to leave, which he did. He started walking, back straight and chest out, before he broke into a run. James eyed the driver as he went, fleeing further down the side street and into the neighbourhood of Mineral de Agua.

James sent one more intimidating glare at the two taximen and the man running the taco truck before donning Sarmiento’s hat and coat. He grimaced when he saw the sleeves barely touching his wrists. It would just have to do.

A couple of seconds behind the tinted glass. A couple of seconds to lock the doors. A couple of seconds to seal Rosher’s fate.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sinclair yawned as he waited at the side of the road near Villas de Guanajuato. This was where the buses terminated their routes and headed back to the city. Villas de Guanajuato was one of the newest suburbs to spring up outside