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

Shao was unimpressed. Five hundred poorly organised and poorly educated peasants wouldn’t press Hun Sen’s forces. Cambodia had come a long way since the old days. Its army had received modern training and modern weapons. The prime minister’s bodyguard, built out of Brigade 70, could defeat these sleeper cells alone.

“I don’t require your sleeper cells to fight Hun Sen’s men. I think they would be better served in another way. You see, Hun Sen has always been ready to throw away his principles. First, he helped the Vietnamese to invade this country. Now, he employs private mercenaries to protect his interests. There is one such organization, Blackwind. I have it on good authority that they intend to deploy field agents in Cambodia; perhaps they have already.”

“We could help. We’ve prepared our men for many years.”

“Good. Make it your mission to hunt down these foreigners. In the meantime, hold your fire. You will receive more orders when the time is right.”

Shao didn’t say another word as Sambath waggled his head as if he spoke to the Emperor of China himself. When Shao still didn’t acknowledge him, the peasant finally got the message and retreated,

After Sambath was out of sight, Shao sighed. The last remnants of the old Khmer Rouge had served their purpose, but he was quickly running out of useful things for them to do. Sooner or later, they had to be eliminated.

He motioned with a single spindly finger to one of his servants and switched to Chinese. “Have Sambath followed. I want to know where Prak is hiding. A peasant isn’t hard to find. Call Dylan Howser and tell him to track their leadership down.”

His servant bowed and departed. It was time for the skittish Xiphos agent to prove his worth.

Chapter Seven

Phnom Penh, Phnom Penh Province, Cambodia

James and Sinclair decided to check out the prostitution district, just a few streets from their guesthouse. Mr. Arun gave them a strange look on their way out as if he didn’t quite trust the goodness of their intentions.

“It’s unlikely that we’re going to see him at this hour,” grumbled Sinclair.

“That’s not the point. I want to see what we’re working with and evaluate the risks. Remember, you’re not the one going inside,” said James.

“Even so, your impatience is showing.”

“I am impatient. Better to liquidate him quickly. I want it done today.”

“You need therapy.”

Phnom Penh’s riverside area by day bustled with foreigners and locals alike. The former seemingly ran the district with a sword made of American dollars, for which the Khmer practically prostrated themselves. It had become so bad that the national currency, the Cambodian Riel, was only used for transactions of less than a dollar. Everyone paid for their other transactions in cold, hard US cash.

The prostitution district consisted of simple shopfronts offering everything from beer to massages. Anyone could have mistaken it for any other street in the tourist hub of Phnom Penh. Those who knew better saw the loitering women and their stern-faced handlers looking for trouble.

“Do you know where The Palace is?” Sinclair asked a tuk-tuk driver reclining on the cheap red leather seat with his feet on either side of the steering wheel.

The driver opened his sleepy eyes. “The Palace?”

“Yes, we know it’s around here somewhere.”

“You go next street. You see it there. You want me to show you?”

James shook his head. “We can walk.”

He shrugged his shoulders and returned to snoozing.

As they explored the congested area that made up the red light district, James noted lots of pretty women but never the rotten abyss beneath. He didn’t see the crime or any signs of child prostitution. He hoped against hope that the rumours weren’t true, or they were heavily exaggerated.

“So, this Mr. Chea…” said James.

“Yes, he deals in children, according to the dossier. Apparently, Cambodia has cleaned itself up in the last few years. The locals aren’t willing to give up their children to the pimps these days. I heard some stories of foreigners been beaten in the villages for touching kids. The Khmer have had enough.”

“Good. About time that changed.”

“Mr. Chea is notorious for dealing in that nasty stuff, though. He started charging the foreigners higher prices for the kids. Unless you speak Khmer and can go to the villages, a foreigner has to go to him if he wants to engage in child prostitution in Phnom Penh. I suppose it helped cut the rates. There’s a reason why the Philippines is the capital for that stuff now.”

James caught his first look at The Palace as they rounded the corner. The Palace stood head-and-shoulders above the buildings around it. A wide-open entrance revealed what looked to be a bar and nightclub combined. A few foreigners drank at the little metal tables.

“What, no glitz?” Sinclair stared up at the large Chinese letters. “Really, from the man who supposedly controls prostitution in the capital, I would have expected something grander.”

“No,” said James. “That makes him smart. Only an idiot would want to broadcast that he’s the king. The most powerful people don’t let anyone else know that they’re the most powerful people.”

“It doesn’t look like there are any secret back entrances.”

“There will be.” James jabbed a thumb back where they came. “There’s an alley running behind the building. The Palace will have a back entrance, just like all the other buildings.”

“I think we should go in the back entrance. It will attract less attention.”

“Think what you want. You’re wrong.”

“I’m… what?” Sinclair’s jaw almost hit the ground. “I’m employed to be your intelligence.”

“And this time I’m overruling you. The easiest way to get to Mr. Chea is to act like a normal guest. Trying to fight my way through a crowded brothel makes me vulnerable in those