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

“I’m surprised to see you both,” said Sinclair. “You were more than welcome to call me, and we could have set up a meeting in some more comfortable surroundings.”

Thom and Heng sat on their little plastic chairs. They shifted, trying to find some comfort in the cheap furniture.

“You would not have been here had I called,” said Thom. “We know that Prahn Sambath was killed.”

“Oh,” Sinclair managed.

“Remember, Mr. Wood, we are the government, and we have access to information you don’t. I hope that Mr. Winchester and his friends are hunting down Prak. If he’s found, this issue will be rectified, and we can begin plotting General Narith’s downfall.”

Sinclair let his shoulders rise and fall as he processed the information. He expected Thom to hit him with everything he had for their failure. Despite such a catastrophic mistake, he sat with the same calm demeanour as always.

“We’re chasing Prak in the Cardamom Mountains as we speak. That’s why I’m here on my own.”

Thom nodded and leaned towards Sinclair. “Keep your voice down. Tomorrow morning, a big story is going to hit the newspapers. Have you visited the area around the Royal Palace today?”

Sinclair shook his head.

“An attempt was made on His Majesty’s life by the leader of Hun Sen’s bodyguard.”

“What?”

“It’s true. This means we have less time than we hoped. The prime minister has been weakened.”

“I’m… not sure what to say to that. What are the circumstances?”

Thom went on to explain how Commander Chhaya had planted some plastic explosive at the palace in a faked false flag attack. Chhaya was now in custody and would certainly be executed after a very public trial. Sinclair was alarmed at Thom’s stupidity. He’d risked his boss’s existence to pull off something that had so little chance of succeeding. The assumption that Narith would find himself tied up was wishful at best. Sinclair did all he could to bite his tongue.

“You see,” Thom finished, almost jovial. “We all make mistakes.”

“Yes, Mr. Thom. Is this why you came here today?”

“Yes.” Thom turned to Heng. “The files please.”

Ros pulled out a variety of identical-looking red plastic folders and shifted them across the table in the direction of Sinclair.

“We need to know who the traitor is,” said Thom. “The prime minister is planning a purge of his bodyguard. I’ve been tasked with finding out who it was. These files are the men who were on Commander Chhaya’s team that went into the palace.”

Sinclair glanced at the pile of red folders without moving to take them. “How do you know there was a traitor at all? The palace guard could have shot him on his way out.”

Thom’s brow furrowed as if it were the dumbest question in the world.

“The average Cambodian soldier is an idiot, and the same goes for the palace guard,” Heng intervened. “In combat, they panic. I should know. I served in the army when I was younger.”

Sinclair nodded.

“The bullet was too well-placed, like an execution. I managed to get the report from the scene before the army took over and General Narith locked everyone else out. You must understand, this is serious.”

“Why not just imprison every other member of the team until someone talks?” asked Sinclair.

“And risk a revolution?” Thom cried. “That would be insanity. These are high-ranking officers with a lot of friends. To imprison them all on nothing more than a feeling could destroy Cambodia. His bodyguard is the only thing that stands between him and the end. No, we need the name of the person and we need him to be dealt with quietly before he can do more damage.”

Sinclair nodded along with Thom’s explanation. Now it made sense. They couldn’t risk going after the traitor through the arms of the state. If a couple of foreigners made the kill – or made it seem like an accident – nobody would raise a fuss.

“I already spoke to Mr. Gallagher,” said Thom. “He accepts the need to expand the contract. He assured me that you and Mr. Winchester will both be paid extra to complete this assignment.”

Sinclair inclined his head and the two other men nodded. As quickly as they’d come, they were shaking hands with Sinclair and moving back to the silent Nhek sitting on his bike, waiting to go. There were no warm waves or invitations to come back soon. The situation had grown worse. Now they had someone else’s mess to clean up.

“Sir, sir.” Mr. Arun rushed over to Sinclair and his new folders. “Where are your friends? I bring them beer. Why do they leave now? You not so friendly with them?”

Sinclair turned his gaze away from Nhek’s tuk-tuk sweeping back towards the Mekong with the surety of a fired arrow. He found Mr. Arun’s face pleading for an explanation.

“Get me another beer, Mr. Arun. I’ve got a few meetings to prepare for.”

“Ah good. Very good, sir. I am happy you make friends in Cambodia.”

Sinclair resumed his seat and took the first folder from atop the file with a sigh. Sometimes he wished he would make fewer friends in Cambodia.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Cardamom Mountains, Koh Kong, Cambodia

 

The words of Preap came true. They had camped too far down the mountains to become a target. Nevertheless, James didn’t sleep that night. He snatched a couple of minutes only to be jolted awake by the wind rustling through the trees or the grunt of someone turning over. At first light, he sat bolt upright with bleary eyes.

He stared briefly at Blake’s motionless form. James wondered if he could sleep soundly with that much duplicity on his conscience. Working against their interests. Always out for himself. Never taking responsibility for his mistakes. His nostrils flared at Blake’s apparent indifference.

Dylan had taken the final watch of the evening. He sat with the M4A1