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

more complicated than I originally let on. I didn’t trust you before. But since you killed Mr. Chea.” He spat again. “Now I can trust you completely.”

“What are you getting at, Preap?” asked James.

“Well, I lied to you. What’s true is that I did study in London, but I didn’t study in London during Kampuchea. I was here. I was a part of it, and I’m ashamed that I was.” Preap no longer faced James. The whites of his eyes glared at the street as if he was relieving his own mistakes all over again. “I rose to my position in the Palace because I worked for the Khmer Rouge. I killed for them. It was what everyone did at the time.”

“Oh...” It was all James could manage. “I’m sure things were different back then.”

“They were. Do you still want to kill Tep Prak?”

He narrowed his eyes at him. “How do you know that?”

Preap threw a lazy finger at Nhek, who returned it with another wide smile.

James pursed his lips. Was there anyone in town Nhek hadn’t told?

“I never knew Prak. But I retreated to the mountains and the forests near the Thai border. Those bases were never found. I’m sure the Khmer Rouge still use them today. Without someone who knows where they are, you have no chance of finding them. I want to help you.”

“Help me?” James tilted his head. “Why?”

“To fix some of the mistakes I made. I killed… a lot. I’ve dreamed of it ever since.”

James analysed Preap up and down. The idea that Preap could have once been a mass murderer seemed farcical. The well-spoken man who had studied in London didn’t fit the model of a vicious Khmer Rouge.

“People of this country forgot. They wanted to forget.” Preap turned his eyes on James. “There was no peace agreement after Kampuchea. Most of the Khmer Rouge returned to normal life. You don’t know what the older Khmer did during Kampuchea, and they won’t talk about it. It’s a strange culture in many ways.”

James wanted to say something profound or try to comfort Preap. But why bother? He, himself, had never confronted his sins. Unlike Preap, his victims didn’t keep him awake at night. Every evening he slept soundly. Was it some sort of hypocrisy or had he become less human over his years of military service and mercenary work?

“But why philosophise?” Preap asked. “We have much to do. I want to do this for you, James. Bring me to your friends and I can lead you to where I think they keep their base.”

“Do you remember after all these years?”

“You never forget something like that.”

Chapter Thirty

Pen Thom stood in the shadow of the Royal Palace. Despite the prominent position the palace held overlooking the Mekong, the building was barely 150 years old, relatively new compared to some ancient sites. The imposing gates of the palace were guarded by the palace guard in their pristine white jackets. From the outside, Thom could only be in one part of the four main compounds that made up the palace.

Thom stood near the wall where visitors could see most of the Moonlight Pavilion. Classical Khmer dance events took place there. Thom had attended them on a number of occasions. He rested on the wall separating the palace from the river, grimacing as he sat his aching joints down.

He pushed his glasses up from the end of his nose and stood again as Commander Chan Chhaya arrived. He’d popped out from behind a group of three Buddhist monks dressed in bright orange.

Shorn of his uniform, Chhaya wore a pair of sunglasses and no hat. To all but his closest allies, he appeared as no more than an ordinary civilian. Slightly round but built of solid muscle, he extended his paw-like hand to Thom in the Western fashion.

“Commander,” Thom said. “Thank you for meeting me today. It is an honour.”

“A public place. I don’t think you’ve assessed the risk of meeting here.” Chhaya sent a glance at the palace. “In front of the palace as well. Why here?”

“If we’re seen going in and out of the same building it confirms everything. If we’re seen here, just a coincidence.”

Chhaya tightened his lips. “Why did you want to meet me? Keep it short before someone notices I’m not on duty.”

Thom nodded and gestured to the wall again. His joints showed the first signs of arthritis. He couldn’t stand for long without clenching his teeth and trying to hide his discomfort.

Chhaya sat next to him. “General Narith is becoming increasingly insular. I think he knows that I’m watching him on behalf of the prime minister.”

Thom nodded. “San Peou was found dead. Tortured. He must have spoken.”

Chhaya shifted, the commander losing some of his usual composure. “Then you must speak to the prime minister and have him remove me. If not, it’s only a matter of time before he moves against me.”

“You know he won’t.”

“I’m the head of his personal bodyguard. I can’t make any sort of request to the prime minister. I’m employed to follow orders. Nothing more. My fate is in your hands.”

“And I’m just an advisor. I can make a request, but I’ve known him long enough to know he’ll dismiss my concerns without evidence. How can we have evidence because we feel that General Narith knows, Commander?”

Chhaya gazed up at the Royal Palace. “If there’s a more pressing concern, the prime minister will act.”

“What could be more pressing than a coup d’état from the general of the Royal Cambodian Army?”

“I can think of one thing.”

“Do tell me. We can’t afford to lose you, Commander. You’re one of the reasons why he hasn’t made a move against the prime minister already.”

“A false flag attack.”

Thom’s breath caught in his throat. “That’s treason, Commander.”