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

James approached. He felt sick and struggled to stay upright. His knees threatened to give out as his worst nightmare seemed to have come true.

“What’s happened?”

“They come here. Soldiers come here looking for you and your friend. They make big mess. You are hurt, sir? There is blood on your shirt.”

James angled his head towards the wound in his back. It was nothing a few stitches wouldn’t cure. “Nothing to worry about,” James said weakly. “Show me the rooms. Now.”

The young man took the steps two at a time, his long legs moving easily upwards. James had to hold onto the handrail to steady himself. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see this, but he knew he had to.

“They come here to your room. Big mess.”

James peered into his room to find broken furniture and the boxy television smashed into pieces. The soldiers who had come hadn’t found any luggage to go through, so instead had torn open the pillows and the mattress with something sharp.

“And the other room?”

“Here.” The manager gestured towards Sinclair’s room. “I am very sorry, sir.”

James ignored him. He hesitated at the threshold to Sinclair’s room before he pushed open the door. Like his own, the room had been pillaged of anything of value. He stepped inside expecting to find a body or at least some signs of a struggle.

“Did they take anything or anyone?” James asked.

“They wouldn’t let me see.”

“Well, did you hear anyone fight? Any shouting or screaming?” James felt his voice growing hoarse from desperation. “Did they take him?”

The manager could only shrug. “I don’t know, sir. I’m very sorry.”

James made another sweep of the room. There were no indications that Sinclair had ever been here at all. He couldn’t even find any signs of the supplies he’d taken from Phnom Penh. It was like his friend had never existed.

“Would you like a beer, sir? Just for you. For free.”

He shook his head. “No.”

The manager waited in respectful silence.

“I want a tuk-tuk to the airport. I need to get to Phnom Penh as soon as possible.”

Chapter Sixty-Five

Phnom Penh, Phnom Penh Province, Cambodia

 

James got off the plane a few hours later. He tried calling Sinclair’s phone multiple times. It continued to ring with no answer. His only hope was that the phone kept ringing at all. When he got back into town, he went straight to the Riverside Guesthouse. Maybe Dylan could help him find Sinclair.

He put in a call to Dylan as he sat on the edge of his bed. Dylan picked up almost immediately.

“Dylan?” said James.

“It’s me. I’ve found something amazing. I have to show you in-person or you’ll never believe me.”

“Dylan, Dylan, I need to know where Sinclair is. I’ve tried to call him since this morning, but he’s not answering. This isn’t normal.”

Dylan paused for a moment. “You too?”

“What do you mean me too?”

“I’ve been calling him as well and he never picks up. It just rings every time.”

James’ insides tightened. It only made Sinclair’s disappearance that much more serious. Mr. Arun hadn’t seen him since they’d left for Siem Reap a couple of days earlier.

“Look, can you come over as soon as you can? We need to find him now.”

James cut the call and left his darkened room to go back into the reception. He didn’t know what to do with himself, or even where to start looking. Neither of them truly knew Cambodia.

“Sir?” Mr. Arun said. “You find your friend?”

“No.”

“Would you like a beer?”

“No,” James snapped. “No beer. Not now.”

Mr. Arun looked put out by James’ acidic reply.

James walked out onto the patio and took one of the free tables. His heart raced; the adrenaline pulsing through him like a river. He barely thought of General Narith or the battle he’d gone through that morning and completely ignored the as yet untended wound in his back.

Once again, he took out his phone. This time his stomach clenched in distaste as he dialled, but Blake might be his only hope for finding Sinclair. After all, he knew Gallagher on a personal level. His friend could have checked into headquarters.

“Nice of you to finally come and check on me,” Blake began. “Did your conscience finally get to you?”

James ground his teeth together. This was no time to get into a shouting match. “Blake, just shut up for a minute. I didn’t call to see how you were. Sinclair’s gone missing. I saw him in Siem Reap this morning, then soldiers attacked our guesthouse there. His phone rings but he won’t answer.”

Blake didn’t immediately reply. “Well, what do you want me to do about it? You guys have cut me out of this mission completely. I can walk.”

“Stop it, Blake. This isn’t about you or me. It’s about making sure Sinclair’s safe. Whatever you think of me, Sinclair’s always been fine with you. I need your help on this one.”

“Screw you, Winchester.”

The line went dead.

James swore to himself as Dylan pulled up on Nhek’s tuk-tuk. Blake had just given him another reason why he despised working with him. Blake liked to hold grudges and didn’t care for anyone but himself. James sometimes wondered if he should have saved him in the Cardamom Mountains or left him to die.

“Tell me everything,” Dylan said as he jumped off the back of the tuk-tuk and jogged towards him. “What happened?”

James recounted the events in Siem Reap, from the battle with Narith’s forces to Sinclair’s sudden disappearance.

“So, General Narith is dead?” Dylan asked in wonder.

“Yes, he’s dead, and I have the proof to go after Shao Fen. Thom won’t be able to deny the proof when I show him this recording.” He tapped on his phone next to his wrist. “From Narith’s mouth