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

“We need to end this,” said James.

A bullet from the remaining rider came so close James felt the movement of the air on his ear.

“I don’t know. You shoot, you shoot.”

“Find me some open ground.”

“I don’t know what’s ground for opening, Mr. James.”

“Here, here, that’s a park.” He thrust a finger at a collection of bushy trees. “Get some distance and stop.”

Nhek obeyed and manoeuvred like a professional. The park stretched for almost a mile. He mounted the pavement with a bump and drove into a wide path leading to a bronze statue of a former king in full regalia.

“Get to cover,” said James.

“I want to help. I want to help.”

James ignored him, jumped off the bike, and fired another shot from distance. It missed but the rider made a veering U-turn. To his astonishment, the rider gave up the chase and fled.

The locals screamed and ran, many with their phones to their ears, no doubt calling the police. In the eye of the storm around him, James’ mind shut down. Should he give chase or flee?

“Mr. James.” Nhek grabbed at his arm and pulled him towards the bike. “Come, we have no time. The police come.”

James watched the rider disappear and let Nhek return him to the bike. A simple hit and run had turned into something much bigger. Things like this never were as simple as Sinclair made them sound.

Chapter Fifty-One

Sihanoukville, Preah Sihanouk Province, Cambodia

Shao slammed his smartphone down on his desk. The screen splintered, sending a spider’s web of cracks across the protector. He’d entered his office at the shipyards with a feeling that something wasn’t right. Something as catastrophic as losing Kravaan? Beyond his calculations.

“Send that idiot Sok up here,” Shao commanded to a faceless aide.

His entourage hurried to summon his minion into his office. Sok bowed his head and wouldn’t look him in the eye. Shao smelt the fear on him.

“Mr. Fen, I’m sorry,” he said.

“Sok, I gave you a job to do. You were supposed to keep Kravaan alive. He’s dead.”

“We tried, Mr. Fen,” Sok approached his desk overlooking the shipyards. “We tried. We chased the barang, but we couldn’t catch him.”

“Don’t sit down,” Shao growled. “Why are you here?”

“I survived. The barang killed my brother and Kravaan. I’m so sorry. I could do nothing.”

“You should have died in the attempt.” Shao stood behind his desk. “You came highly recommended to me. How many years have you worked in personal protection?”

“Twenty years in the business, Mr. Fen.”

“Twenty years,” Shao scoffed.

Shao felt his temples pulsing. The blood vessels around his head pressing against his skin. He turned away from the pitiful creature before him. Two decades in the underworld; how could Sok have failed him so badly?

“I try again. I can find the barang. Give me one more chance.”

“In China, there are no second chances. You shouldn’t have come here until Winchester was dead, you hear me?”

“But this is not China, Mr. Fen.”

Shao heard Sok’s words clearly, but he wasn’t sure he understood what he said. He roared as he whipped his pistol out. Sok raised his hands at the quick movement. He fired and the failure dropped to the ground.

The smell of gun smoke filled Shao’s nostrils as he dropped the gun on the desk. He planted his hands in front of him, a ragged feeling challenging him like never before. He grabbed a half-full glass of water from his desk and guzzled the room temperature drink.

Shao shot a threatening glance at the aide standing off to the side. “Get me General Narith. Office phone. And clean up this mess.”

The aide stepped over Sok’s body and tiptoed around the pool of blood. “Yes, Mr. Fen.”

Shao smoothed down his hair and fell into his chair. Turning it towards the window, he let his eyes close for a moment until the call connected.

“Narith, Kravaan is dead,” said Shao.

“I know.”

“What happened?”

“We are still investigating. People are talking about it online. Some of the residents spoke to the papers.”

“And?”

“They don’t know who he was, only that he worked with the government. We’re clear to proceed.”

Shao’s eyes widened. “Kravaan was key to our plans. All that work was for nothing. We failed to capitalise on the situation.”

General Narith paused on the other end of the line. He heard the general blowing his nose.

“Enough of this. The foreigner is too dangerous. I’m putting the coup on hold until we deal with him. Until Winchester is dead, the risk is too great. He will come for us.”

“Shao, no,” said Narith. “We don’t need Kravaan. We can still do it. Winchester is only one man, and he can’t stop an army.”

“His performance so far tells us he can. Never underestimate your enemy. Everything is in place, but I will not give the green light until this man Winchester is dead. Place all your forces on high alert. I want his picture circulating.”

“We don’t have a picture of him.”

“Speak to immigration as a matter of national security. The passport will most likely be fake. I want you to search for every record of a foreigner of his description entering Cambodia in the last few weeks.”

“But Sen —”

“Sen isn’t going anywhere. We must protect ourselves now. Find Winchester’s picture. Look into security cameras. Monitor the logs of the hotels in Phnom Penh and Kampot. Someone knows who he is.”

“That’s an enormous operation —”

“You have an entire army behind you. Make it happen. Nobody ever said this would be easy.”

“Fine,” Narith grunted. “Whatever you say, Shao.”

The line went dead, and Shao took a deep breath. His aides were in the middle of removing Sok’s body from