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

here at my work, and you ask if I’m okay. Gringo, you dragged me into this. It was never my business.”

James lifted his chin in defiance. She didn’t know the whole story, and he didn’t care to explain it to her.

“How long are we supposed to stay here? We are running out of food.”

“Until Vargas decides that his mother is worth something to him. You did send the message as you were told, didn’t you?”

“Of course, I did. What, were you thinking I was going to yell and scream down the phone like a little girl?”

James shrugged. “If you did, it might have helped. Vargas isn’t taking this seriously enough. You can help yourself and his mother by giving him a reason to come down here as soon as possible. As we told you from the beginning, this is nothing against you, or her.”

“Mexican women have too much pride for that.”

He sighed and moved around the opposite side of the island. James balanced himself on a stool. “You are not making this easy for any of us. But you could make life easier for you and her if you cooperate with me.”

“What do you want me to do?” Martina gestured frantically. “Cry? Scream? Throw this cup on the floor?”

“No, no, we just need to make her son believe that this is an emergency and that we’re serious. I want you to send another message to him.”

“Like what?” she snapped.

“Tell him his mother is hurt. Tell him that she’s fallen over or tell him we pushed her over and she broke her leg. It doesn’t matter to us what you blame us for. If her son believes she’s in serious danger, he’ll come, and then we can be free of this.”

Martina cradled her coffee cup between her hands, her grim expression displaying the battle between pride and pragmatism.

“It’ll be better for everyone.”

“Fine.” Martina slipped off her stool. “Have it your way, but when Vargas kills you, it’ll be your fault.”

Martina went to make the call. Her bravado showed she had no fear of Vargas. James sensed she knew enough to understand that even a ruthless narco was still made of flesh and bone. If he could bleed, he could be killed.

Martina made the call and delivered an impassioned speech that shocked even James. He spied from the kitchen door. It became clear from the voice screaming down the other end of the line she’d managed to connect directly to Vargas. By throwing away her pride Martina had lit the touchpaper.

“He will come tomorrow morning,” Martina announced.

“Tomorrow morning?” James repeated.

“That’s what he said.”

“I won’t let our guard down. If he thinks that’s going to work on us, he’s got another thing coming.”

Martina remained framed by the kitchen door, a determined expression on her face.

“Yes?” asked James.

“What about her?”

“What about her?” A sneering Diego came downstairs. “You think we’re going to let her go.”

“If Vargas attacks this house, it’ll be a massacre. I don’t want her at risk. She’s done nothing to you.”

James looked at Diego, who didn’t seem to be in a merciful mood after waiting in the house for this long with nothing but tortillas and beans.

“We’ll move her to the safest part of the house,” said James. “We don’t want anything to happen to her either if we can help it.”

“Thank you,” said Martina stiffly.

Diego puffed out his cheeks. “Why do you care what happens to the old woman? She gave birth to a monster. If anything, she would deserve to die.”

“She’s not responsible for the actions of her son.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You believe what you want, but I’m going to make sure she’s as safe as possible when Vargas turns up. I’m not watching another innocent die because of this.”

Diego tutted and stamped back upstairs to continue his vigil. James shook his head as he watched him go. Just a few hours of counting until Vargas arrived. This would be a fight to the death unlike any other.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Washington D.C., District of Colombia, United States of America

 

The American capital after the witching hour lifted a curtain not seen by the tourists and the well-to-do locals of the Nation’s Capital. It brought to life the slimy hive of drug dealers, the junkies, and the seditious plotters.

Harrison Phelps IV, a man who resembled his father in almost every way, bowed his head across from the Capitol Building. The enormous dome glowed white at night, casting a perfect reflection on the still water of the Capitol Reflecting Pool. Phelps had never thought the disappearance of his father would hit him in this way. Then again, who could prepare for the death of one’s parent?

“Mr. Phelps,” said a voice.

Senator George Black approached him out of the darkness. Betraying his age, he wore a brown fedora shadowing most of his face. George gripped the outstretched hands of Phelps, the men outlined in the halo of the Capitol Building’s light.

“I was terribly sorry to hear about the disappearance of your father. I am sure that he will be found good and well soon. You know how some people need a holiday from time to time.”

“He’s dead,” said Phelps with no hesitation.

“You don’t know that. It might be hard to take in, but –”

“He’s dead. I’m certain of it. It’s why I asked to meet you tonight. The media’s banging down my door and those god damn ingrates on social media are blowing up with their conspiracy theories. There’s no way we can meet at any other time in any other place. Right now, they’ll be sitting on my doorstep in Virginia looking for a statement.”

George looked stunned. “But… how do you know?”

“Because he left suddenly without a security detail to go to Miami. You’re the senator of