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

done. Nobody got fired from Blackwind. They retired, died in the field, or were executed by their own comrades.

“I need to speak to Gallagher about this. He must make the decision, or we will be putting ourselves in a dangerous situation.”

“You can’t do that,” James snapped. “You know as well as I do that Gallagher wouldn’t understand. He’s probably in on this. Why else would he have sent Blake?”

Sinclair gulped. He saw James’ logic, but going rogue was against his natural instincts. Field agents got to be creative. People like him had to do things by the book.

“Please, Sinclair. Just this once support me in this. Let’s do what’s right.”

“James, we are not in the business of making the world a better place. We are guns for hire.”

“Just this once.”

Sinclair bit down on his tongue. “No, I won’t support you in this matter. But I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything. If you need anything from me, you can ask, but I will never ask the reason why.”

James looked disappointed but he nodded. It was all he would get.

The arrangement had precedent between them. James had taken unorthodox methods before to complete a contract and Sinclair had pretended like he didn’t know what was going on. The pair hadn’t received any blowback because the mission had always been a success.

“What about Blake and Gallagher?” asked James.

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I need to know Blake’s angle and what he’s doing. It’s not too late. The girl is safe. You could shoot Quezada tomorrow if you wanted.”

“I gave him my word. I intend to honour that word.”

Sinclair rolled his eyes. He’d never understood James’ odd moral compass. They’d worked together so long he’d learned not to argue with him about it. He would work around it, instead.

“James, we need to talk about one other thing before we go through with this.”

“What?”

“The girl.” Sinclair jabbed his head at Jessi. “She needs to go.”

Chapter Fifty

Miami, Florida, United States of America

Scott approached his boss as he lounged in his garden. The import-export magnate had seemed in a surprisingly good mood during their phone calls. He tucked an official-looking brown folder under his arm and made his way through the garden.

Romero drank pink grapefruit juice from a crystal cut glass, his sunglasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Mr. Romero, I’ve got what you wanted,” said Scott.

“Good,” Romero said without warmth. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Scott removed a docket from the folder and handed Romero everything he’d received from his contact about the senator and his business dealings. The research hadn’t taken much effort. George had never been the smartest senator in Congress and hadn’t covered his tracks very well.

“I should have known,” Romero smirked. “Phelps’ son didn’t take long to get involved.”

“Phelps is the only reason Black had the confidence to turn against you and put Governor Newton in prison. He was never what you would call brave.”

“If that’s what he wants, let him do it. We’ll crush them. Phelps has a name, but he doesn’t have power.”

“The rest is in the other pages,” said Scott. “Phelps is expected to take his father’s old seat in Congress. The rumours coming out of the opposition is they won’t run against him. His father was hated, but he was too much of a big name. What’s the point in them being beaten by a sympathy landslide?”

“That will take months. Even I know special elections take time. We can get to Black before that happens.”

“And I’ve also found out what they’re up to.”

Romero flipped the front of the docket closed and balanced it on the corner of his table. “Good, this is why you’re worth every cent.”

Scott avoided Romero’s gaze as he gave a little nod of acknowledgement. “Sir, Phelps still has a lot of his father’s goodwill in Congress. You know, most of the party members there got their starts because of his father. They owe the family a lot and they’re going to repay it, even if it’s just for the cameras. I found out that they’re planning to push through a state of national emergency across the entire Gulf area.”

The jug of juice flew across the patio and smashed against the flowerpots. Soil spilt out across the pristine patio. Romero raged in Spanish, flinging all manner of curses.

Romero clutched the sides of his head and paced around the patio.

“I want them both dead. I want them dead now.”

“Sir, that would be a problem. It could incriminate you as the man behind his father’s death.”

“I don’t care,” he gesticulated. “I can’t let them move with impunity. They won’t work with me now after what we did. Kill them. Get it done.”

Scott gulped and bowed his head. As he moved his head, he clicked the button in his pocket to stop recording. He’d finally made his decision.

Chapter Fifty-One

Dolores Hidalgo, Guanajuato, Mexico

Fernando looked over his new lieutenants in a non-descript house in Dolores Hidalgo. Alex wasn’t among them. Fernando had made the difficult decision to freeze him out of his chain of command. Someone who demonstrated such weakness left him vulnerable.

A gathering of his favourites from the cartel leaned and lounged around the living room. A large TV showed a game of football on mute. Sunlight shined through the bars on the window and the slits in the cheap metal blinds.

“You all know why we’re here,” Fernando started. “Our organisation is changing. We can’t let Montoya win. He will move against us now. If we spend our time mourning those we’ve lost, we’ll lose everything.”

“Not everyone is going to support your claim,” said Pedro Costilla, his new righthand man.

Fernando stared at Pedro Costilla. He’d employed Pedro for his intelligence and his wit, rather than his brutality. He