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

At that moment, Prak had revealed a dangerous truth. The one thing you should never tell someone under interrogation. Making it clear there was no way out for the hostage made them do dangerous things. Without hope, they had no reason to act rationally.

Prak sat down and crossed his legs again. His gaze didn’t linger on his tainted beverage for a second.

“Okay,” said Preap. “General Narith is backed by a man named Shao Fen, a businessman from China. He has close ties with the Chinese Communist Party. This whole coup is because the prime minister refuses to allow them to build up the shipyards in Sihanoukville and house the battleships of China’s navy.”

James’ eyebrows knitted together as his brow furrowed. “I thought the Khmer Rouge hated foreigners.”

“We do,” said Prak. “But if it’s our way to power, we can deal with the Chinese later. They’re a tool and nothing more.”

“Fine. Is that all? Can I go now?”

“In good time,” said Preap. “You must understand, we must be completely sure that you will leave Cambodia. Once we make the arrangements, you’ll be driven directly to the airport so we can see that you leave.”

“I think that’s everything that needs to be said.” Prak lifted his cup. “In the meantime, you’ll stay in this house as an honoured guest of mine. You’re not to leave this house without permission and you will be put under guard.”

James agreed and lifted his cup to toast. “Thank you.”

Prak nodded and swallowed some of his tea. As James lowered the rim of his cup, the look of panic rippled across the Khmer Rouge leader’s face. Cyanide killed in a matter of seconds. Faster with the amount of aged powder James had left in his cup.

Preap snapped to his brother in arms as Prak entered a seizure. His whole body shook, and his mouth foamed. The eyes flashed their final light as Prak searched for help. Even as Preap gripped Prak and tried to stop the mad flailing of his arms and shoulders, James moved swiftly into action.

Throwing a meaty forearm around Preap’s neck, he strangled the traitor. Preap tried to pry James’ grip away from his throat, but it was useless.

“You’re not going to get away,” said James into Preap’s ear. “I’m glad you made me take that cyanide.”

Preap croaked something out from his throat. It made no impact as James squeezed tighter.

“Watch Prak. Watch him die. He’s already gone.”

James stared at the motionless body of Prak and the look of terror stencilled onto his face forever as he suffocated Preap without another thought. He felt nothing for Preap now. The man who’d helped him and the man who’d betrayed him deserved nothing else as his leader’s life floated away.

He didn’t let go until long after he’d felt Preap’s death rattle. When, finally, he did let go, he let him flop to the ground like a sack of potatoes, face-down.

Preap’s mercy had done its job.

Chapter Forty-Two

Phnom Penh, Phnom Penh Province, Cambodia

Phnom Penh International Airport crawled with the usual array of tuk-tuk drivers and jet-lagged tourists stumbling into Cambodia for the first time. Shao arrived in a black car, with a second identical car containing his Chinese bodyguards. Travellers and locals alike cast glances at the vehicles that had turned up outside the doors of the arrival hall.

Shao climbed out of the car alone. He’d instructed his bodyguards not to appear. They’d already drawn enough attention with their necessary security precautions. He made it to the centre of the concrete plaza of the airport when Song Wen and his assistant exited the airport.

“Good morning,” said Shao in his native Chinese. “How was your flight?”

Song Wen wore a number three cut and a pair of glasses. His gentle eyes descended to cheeks that drooped like a basset hound. Nobody would have thought anything of Song Wen if he moved through a crowd in the same suit millions of Chinese employees wore to the office every day.

“Comfortable,” said Song. “Beijing has instructed me to inform you that they are very pleased with your work in Cambodia. They are thankful that you have put the needs of China beyond your own personal ambitions.”

Shao bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, Song.”

Song’s assistant deposited his luggage into the back of Shao’s car. They made polite small talk before getting into the car. Shao understood the message clearly. It was a pat on the head with a small warning not to deviate from the path he’d chosen. Messages from Beijing never meant what they said. A smart man read between the lines to decipher their true meaning.

“Is this your first time in Cambodia?” asked Shao as they pulled away from the airport.

“Yes. I was delighted that I was chosen to lead China’s interest in the area. It is a great honour.”

“You understand the terms of the assignment, though?”

Song turned to him. “The terms, Shao?”

“You’ve arrived very early. These are an extremely critical few weeks.”

“I was told in advance of leaving Beijing that you would tell me about the progress of these plans. I was also informed that you preferred not to speak too much over the phone.”

“It pays to be careful, even with the technology we have at our disposal. “It’s quite simple. Nobody must know that you’re associated with me. You’re here on a private business matter.”

“Not a problem.”

“Once Hun Sen is removed from power, General Narith will take control. It’s my intention that he not be allowed to consolidate his power. Once he’s quietly disposed of, you will take over control of Cambodia.”

Song’s thin smile grew. “An excellent plan. However, I’m unable to rule Cambodia as a man from China. We need someone who we can control. A local