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

“I’ll take this side. You go to the other. That’s a boat.”

James gritted his teeth, seized the Colt AR-15 from the bed, along with an ammo belt filled with 5.56 NATO military-grade rounds, and made for the encroaching whine. The room where Juliana watched her shows looked out onto the lake. The bay window offered no protection. He glanced about for another option and ducked into a small bathroom off to the side.

The upstairs bathroom had a large window he could open by standing on the porcelain toilet. It had been reinforced and designed for a woman who couldn’t stand up or sit down without aid. This gave him more purchase as he closed the lid and positioned himself on top.

He unbolted the window and peered out. What he saw made his stomach sink into the abyss. Three speedboats headed across the lake. Their noses aimed for the little harbour designed for pleasure boats at the back of the house.

James watched as the speedboats weaved in circles across the lake. They must be waiting for an order of some kind to go in for the kill.

He felt sick just watching the scene play out in front of him. The seconds before an operation began always made him want to melt into the floor.

“Diego!”

“Yes?” Diego shouted back.

“Three speedboats on the lake. Four men to a boat. They’re waiting for the order. What do you want me to do?”

“Are they in range?”

“Almost.”

“Okay, there’s nothing in front of the gate yet. Wait until they get in range then fire. Don’t let them get organised.”

James stared down the Sparc II red dot sight of his AR-15. The integrated 1x magnification gave him an advantage at this distance. Diego had also customized their guns to accommodate larger bullets. This gave him an effective range of around 1,500 metres, but he wanted them to get closer first. He needed his first shots to be perfect. In the sight of the red dot, he marked out the kill zone.

Still, the speedboats snaked around in the waters. The sound of their engines grew in volume with every turn. They inched closer. With every passing moment, they threatened to puncture James’ invisible line.

James did his best to steady his breathing; his throat dried in the brisk morning air. The first boat nudged into his kill zone. He knew the moment he fired he would have an almost certain chance of killing the driver.

He got the first speedboat in his sights, his eyes fixed firmly on the driver. He pressed the trigger. A blazing hot stream of bullets sliced the still air. The driver fell. As James expected, the other three struggled to grab onto the boat as they stumbled over their dead comrade.

James blasted the three of them in close proximity. The boat went fishtailing off in another direction and came to a halt. The other two boats made a beeline for the shore.

He redirected his focus to the second boat and shot the driver again. This time only one of the men fumbled to steer the boat, whereas the others fired blindly at the house.

The narcos missed hopelessly. James didn’t flinch, knowing full well one lucky shot would end his life. The third boat had already sped further and further into his range. He made a snap judgement and focused on the second boat. With some difficulty as it sped up, he managed to strike all three of the remaining men. Whether crippled or dead, he didn’t know. He didn’t care.

“They’re here!” Diego roared.

“One boat got through.”

“Stay here. Let them come to us.”

Diego started firing. Vargas would have to somehow get through the locked gate before he could proceed into the house.

James tried to angle his weapon out of the window, but the boat disappeared below him. He cursed to himself for allowing four of Vargas’ men to reach dry land. He jumped off the toilet and raced through the house. The locked doors and barred windows would slow them down for a few minutes at least.

He joined Diego in the little bedroom. Diego crouched beneath the window. He occasionally pushed his head up to see the men trying to climb the walls. A car had slammed into the gate, but the heavy metal didn’t yield.

“We’ve got them.” Diego chortled as he fired. “They can’t get enough speed up to get through.”

“Don’t be so sure.” James peeked through the window. “They’ve got something heavy.”

Diego dared to look up as the narcos fired at the house. They’d taken the liberty of opening all the upper windows on this side to confuse their enemies. The narcos continued to fire without any real precision across the face of the building, unsure as to which window their enemy attacked them from.

“Shit,” Diego exclaimed. “They’ve got a narco tank.”

The narco tank was nothing more than a medium-sized truck, but it came with large pieces of metal welded to the bodywork. From the top, a narco manned a machine gun of some kind. The makeshift tank could burst through the gates without needing any speed. Sure enough, James glimpsed a welded battering ram on the front.

“We can’t stop them getting onto the grounds,” said James. “We need to take out that vehicle or we’re done for. There could be ten or twenty people hiding in there.”

“Cover me.”

Diego ran to the bed and threw off a covering. James continued to fire on the narcos popping out from behind the gate.

His eyes widened. “What in the name of –”

“Let it through the gate. It won’t get far when I’m done with it.” Diego carried a Russian RPG-7 with a PG-7 rocket already loaded.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Same place the cartels got it. If they can use it,