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

“Fuck it.” James rebuttoned his shirt.

He didn’t have the time for first aid. Certain that it hadn’t penetrated any vital organ, he picked out a couple of RGD offensive grenades and popped them into his pocket. He wouldn’t show weakness in the face of his enemies.

James pulled the pin out of a grenade and threw it down the hill. The characteristic panic of the Khmer soldiers blew open their plan. They wouldn’t catch him that easily. A couple more seconds passed, and the grenade exploded. He launched another one further and followed on behind it.

He appeared at the top of the hill just in time to watch the second grenade separate a soldier’s limbs from his body. James fired and forced the soldiers to fall back again. This time he inched down the hill. An ambush played on his mind.

Even in the heat of battle. James kept reaching back at the wound in the meaty part of his back. It continued to pulse waves of pain through his upper body.

James gave in and picked his phone out of his pocket. He had to call Sinclair. He needed intelligence.

Holding the phone to his ear with his pistol in front of him, he waited for it to ring. “Sinclair?”

“James, what’s going on?”

James fired his pistol as a soldier tried to peek around the curve of the hill. His head vanished again.

“James?”

“I’m hit. They got me in the back. I don’t know if it’s serious. Give me some intelligence. How many more? I’m about to make my way down the hill now.”

“I don’t have anything.”

“You’re supposed to be my fucking intelligence agent.”

“I’m back in Siem Reap. I gave you everything I had. Can you still move fine?”

“Fuck the bullet.”

“There’s nothing I can do. I’ve got nobody I can send to help you.”

James fired another warning shot at nothing in particular and dumped the phone in his pocket. He felt his temples pulsing, the vein pushing against the skin. Real panic had overtaken him now.

They were massing on the hill and he knew it. The viewpoint would form a place of strength for Narith’s forces, just like Sinclair had said. As he felt the pain from his wound, he questioned if he had what it took to breakthrough.

James took a step forwards only to be met by return fire. He threw himself to the ground as the soldiers strafed his position. The bullets slammed into the ground and struck the trees, splintering the ancient wood. He rolled off the path and into the ditch. James fired back into the air to make them think twice about rushing him.

The soldiers found their mark and fired intermittently in his direction. There was no going back, no moving forwards. James continued to retreat into the unknown ground of the jungle separating the trail from the temple itself. A steep hill filled with moist mulch and hanging vines blocked his path.

He hid behind the bushes and waited for the soldiers to stop firing. When he didn’t fire back, the soldiers repeated the process until the entire hill went silent. James used the foliage to conceal his position and moved towards where he knew the hill would drop off onto the path below.

A couple of soldiers moved by him, flashing into view for a brief moment. James held his breath and crept through the trees. Each rustle and each step his boots made forced him to stop and prick up his ears. He took a deep breath. Now he found himself overlooking where the soldiers had taken cover.

Placing the carbine onto the ground as soundlessly as possible, he took a grenade from his pocket. Pulling the pin on his final RGD offensive grenade, he rolled it down onto the path below. The grenade dropped. The soldiers cried out at the final second. James covered his ears. A mass of humanity became nothing more than punctured meat bags, spilling their entrails into the earth.

James’ ears rang from the explosion. He clenched his teeth and shook his head against the noise in his head as he made his way back to the path. The voices of the living Khmer melded with the reinforcements coming behind them. Jumping back onto the path again, he saw the damage he’d caused.

The toasted meat and the ruined bodies of the soldiers made his stomach jump. He looked away from them and passed without even a sympathetic glance. They shouldn’t have come here. He would make them all regret fighting for a man like General Narith.

James ploughed on, not knowing what would face him around the corner.

Chapter Sixty-One

Phnom Penh, Phnom Penh Province, Cambodia

It was as if the murder had never happened. Song Wen’s body continued to lay in a pool of dried blood at the threshold to his bedroom. Nobody had raised the alarm. Nobody had heard the fatal shot. Dylan had left the scene in Nhek’s tuk-tuk without even a shout in their wake.

“Are we safe here?” asked Dylan as Nhek pulled to a stop in a quiet part of town. “Where are we?”

Nhek eased himself off the bike. They had stopped at nowhere in particular. A little eatery sat underneath a high bridge. It was serving breakfast to a local gaggle of Khmer. The immense concrete pillars formed a natural shelter from the rains.

“Just a little restaurant. We are safe here. I come here sometimes for breakfast.”

“Is this where you know someone who can read Chinese?”

“Of course, Mr. Dylan. I would not like you to be late for anything. I don’t know how much he charges you, but if you have money, he speak Chinese.”

Dylan nodded. “Is he Chinese?”

“No, he is tour guide.”

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. A tour guide who could rattle off a few