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

would take time. He just had to get through a few more days then he could leave these damned crutches behind.

He’d forgotten how long it had been since he spent this much time in a hospital room. This particular hospital in Phnom Penh was a private one that treated only the rich and privileged. No dirty hordes of peasants crowding outside the gates, grasping through the bars trying to get information about their loved ones. Fragrant flowers in the walled gardens provided a welcome respite from the sterile surroundings.

Blake wobbled back into his private ward. The smell of fresh disinfectant seared the edges of his nostrils. He grabbed his phone from the painted side table next to his bed.

Dialling the number, he kept a tight grip on the phone.

“Blake,” said Gallagher. “How are you?”

“As well as I can be, given the circumstances.”

“Will you walk again?”

“Sure, I will. Doctor said I got lucky, but not much I can do at the moment. I’ll be on crutches until at least next week.”

“Good news.”

Blake hesitated for a moment. “Is there any chance of getting me out of Cambodia?”

He glared at the heavily bandaged foot. Not one of his supposed colleagues had deigned to visit him after returning from the Cardamom Mountains. Sinclair hadn’t even bothered to call.

“No,” said Gallagher at last.

“Why not? I’m useless like this.”

“You said you would walk again soon enough. There’s still a job to do if you recall?”

Blake did remember. He remembered all too well. Part of him wanted to hurt James for not even coming to visit. Another part of him believed he owed him. How could he kill the man who had saved his life, even if he did despise him?

“Sir?”

“Enough. Thom and Winchester must receive the same treatment. I don’t like to repeat myself; you know that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Even if you need to limp, you’re still more than capable of firing a bullet.”

“I won’t be able to get close to them. They know I’m crippled right now and can’t help them. Maybe a little push from you could help that along?”

“When the time is right, I’ll have you assigned to them. You’ll be present at the appropriate time.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As Blake dropped the phone on his hospital bed, he gritted his teeth. He hated this country. It had brought him nothing but pain and suffering. A return to civilisation was the only cure. For all the supposed trappings of civilisation in this upmarket hospital, he couldn’t forget what existed outside these grounds. Misery.

His boss had left him with a terrible choice to make. His hatred for James. His newly acquired debt to James. Loyalty to his boss Gallagher, and his desire for advancement.

Blake didn’t know how to proceed. His emotions span like a whirling dervish. Either way, he thought, someone wasn’t going to be leaving Cambodia.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Night fell over Phnom Penh. The shutters were all closed tight. The rats made the world their home as they skittered through the piles of trash. The pungent smell of fish from that day’s markets infested every crack and crevice in the concrete maze of the capital.

James ventured out alone, leaving Sinclair to stew in his pit of chips and soda. Tonight, he’d organised a meeting with Dylan. He wanted to speak to him alone.

The brothels lining both sides of the nearby streets were the only remaining hubs of activity at this hour, the rising sun acting as a closing bell.

James crossed the near-empty roads until he made it to the river. It seemed like a suitable meeting place. The alleys and overhanging windows offered no prying ears bending in their direction.

As he waited, he observed a couple of junkies sitting outside a closed bar, their eyes glazed and white under the cloudy high of crystal meth. Methamphetamine ravaged the old Khmer kingdom, tainting the golden blood of commerce with grime. For many visitors, it was the main attraction of Cambodia.

Dylan approached moments later, his hands tucked into his pockets. His head swivelled from side to side on the lookout for spies.

“We’ve gotta be fast,” said Dylan. “I’m not supposed to be more than twenty feet away from Wen for any reason. He should sleep through the night though.”

James nodded. “Thanks for meeting me. We need to talk.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Why should I be angry with you? You did what you felt necessary to protect yourself.”

Dylan looked sheepish. “But... you could have been killed and it would have been all my fault.

James smirked and removed a cigarette from his packet. He popped it into his mouth and, lighting it, began puffing away. “You worry too much, Dylan. Be decisive. I’ve been in this game too long to be bothered by attempts on my life.”

“Thanks, James.”

“But.” James jabbed at Dylan with the molten end of his cigarette. “You can help me by answering some of my questions.”

“Anything. I owe you so much.”

James nodded. The way Sinclair had described the incident made Dylan sound like a traitor. It had taken him just a couple of minutes to get over it. Things happened. Tongues slipped. Dylan was a newbie as a mercenary. He would learn.

He went on to explain the situation. James trusted him enough to reveal everything he knew so far and about the connection between Shao Fen and General Narith, as well as their plan of action. Even for someone so inexperienced, Dylan understood the geopolitics. His face grew more and more concerned as he realised which side he was on.

“Now you understand everything I do. I want to make this country a better place if I can.” He stopped. “I understand he’s your client and you’ll get into trouble, but I’m asking you for help. For the greater good.”

Dylan sighed and covered the crown