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

“The King will also be on your side when he knows the truth about your role in preventing bloodshed on sacred ground.”

It took a few seconds, but Narith began to nod in agreement. Logic had won out at last.

Shao gave him a reassuring smile and gestured to the tea. His guest finally lifted the cup and indulged. Like a deflating balloon, the sting had been taken out of their confrontation. Shao knew he had Narith’s total confidence again.

Sooner or later, Narith would serve his purpose and then Beijing would have complete indirect control over the country. This went much further than an opportunity to expand a few shipyards.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Cardamom Mountains, Koh Kong, Cambodia

 

Night fell for the second time over the Cardamom Mountains. Depression pressed into the ruined stone building Preap selected as their camp. No lights. No fires. No sounds but those of the wild mountains.

Of the many sounds which echoed through the trees, fear rose above them all. The confidence of James’ ragtag party had hit the skids. They’d heard the stunning blast a few hours after they’d left the spot where Adam had triggered the landmine. James tried not to imagine the figure, which had once been human, turned into little pieces of charred flesh.

His eyes had adjusted to the growing darkness. The silvery moonlight shined through the holes in the roof and the square-cut windows. James looked upon the figures sitting with their backs to the wall. Nobody had slept and, soon, the sun would rise again.

James’ gaze rested upon Dylan. He’d felt Adam’s loss the most. The only man who had built a real relationship with him. Nobody had said much of anything to Dylan since the explosion. James had given him a comforting squeeze of the shoulder. It was all the group could muster.

“We should start moving,” said Preap at last.

The first words anyone had uttered for hours shook James from his thoughts.

“It’s still dark. We can’t see anything,” said Dylan. “There are more mines off the trail. If we lose it, we’re in trouble.”

Preap’s silhouette turned to Dylan. “We need to move. We’ll have the advantage. The camp isn’t far. The Khmer Rouge don’t patrol these trails at night. Makes it less likely we’ll run into them.”

“And what about us?” Blake questioned. “We’ll be blind if we can’t use the lights. It’s not like we have night vision goggles.”

James remembered the discussion they’d had over the night vision goggles. An operation like this mandated something to help them traverse the landscape at night. But this was Cambodia. It would have taken them days to have a few pairs shipped in from outside.

“I know the way.” Preap got to his feet. “The moon is bright tonight. Move slower and stick close. These roads are dangerous now. Expect a camp on our right, in a clearing about a mile from here.”

James inclined his head towards Blake. “Can we take it out quietly?”

“You tell me. You’re always the one who fucks everything up.”

“Prick.”

Everyone checked their equipment and got their things together. Blake carried the M4A1 and they started to move. Without Adam, it fell to Blake to take up the rear-guard. Blake may have landmines on his brain, and the mountains they were about to make run red with blood, but James couldn’t help but think they were being followed.

“Ready?” said Preap in a low voice. “The camps will have lights so we will see them a long way away. They won’t expect anyone in these mountains so we should be able to surprise them.”

James nodded in the darkness. This was the moment of truth. Would Preap fight for them or was he leading them into a trap? He vowed to himself to hang back and keep a strong eye on their guide. One wrong move and he would gun down the former Khmer Rouge without a second thought.

The journey through the moonlight began with each man trying to find their feet, trying to become comfortable with the bluish moonlight showing them the way. The narrow trail made every step its own round of Russian roulette.

James’ hearing grew in sensitivity. Each movement off the trail and every footstep from his ally became amplified. He soon lost track of how long they’d walked. The world became nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other. Praying he wouldn’t hear the metallic click that would herald the end.

It seemed like they’d walked for an eternity through the dark before Preap halted. James already had his hand on his gun in its hip holster.

Preap threw his hand into the air and brought it down in the distance.

James squinted through the trees. A faint little light blinded his night vision. The outer Khmer Rouge camp.

Preap gestured again for them to follow.

Everyone made one last check of their weapons. Bullets loaded. Safeties switched off.

Flanking the camp was impossible. With the threat of landmines, nobody suggested fanning out and taking them from multiple directions. James’ mouth hung open slightly, knowing one wrong move would alert the guards.

Only a single layer of trees hid them from the two guards at the camp. The Khmer Rouge outpost was little more than a clearing with a few ramshackle huts. A small fire burned in the middle of the camp. Some guerrillas slept in the full light of the fire; their arms draped over their AK-47s.

James scanned the remainder of the camp. A single trail led into the heart of the outpost. A high stone cliff behind sheltered them from the rainstorms that swept the mountains. Two awake and alert Khmer Rouge in camo and AK-47s congregated near the entrance.

A branch snapped and the leaves rustled. James froze, his breath caught in his throat. He looked at his foot and the damning evidence of what he’d just done. The