Failed State (A James Winchester Thriller Book 1) (James Winchester Series), James Samuel [most read books in the world of all time TXT] 📗

suits, like an old school airport departures board. A small crowd huddled around a coffee station next to the booths. James scanned the setup looking perplexed.

“I can’t do this by myself,” he said. “I’m going to need help.”

“What?” Sinclair raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’ve been here for over a year now and you don’t know how to order coffee?”

James shot a venomous look at Sinclair. “No, not coffee, the rest of it. I almost never leave Guanajuato. I don’t know anything about the wider state, or Dolores Hidalgo. I need someone who does know.”

Sinclair pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and began scrolling as the line inched forward. James looked ahead and observed an old woman’s shaking hands as she counted out one-peso coins.

“This is my guy in Mexico,” said Sinclair. “He works for us. Another agent. He’s called Diego Gutierrez.”

“A local?”

Sinclair put the phone to his ear. “Mexican, from Aguascalientes. Hello, my friend. How long has it been?” He paused. “Good. Look, I’ve got someone I need you to talk to. There’s some work in it for you if you’re not busy.”

James took the phone from Sinclair. “Hello, Diego?”

“Good afternoon,” Diego said in perfect English. “Sinclair told me there’s some work for me.”

“It’s my work actually, but I need someone who knows Mexico. Someone who knows the lay of the land and Guanajuato.”

Diego guffawed on the other side. “I know everything about this cursed country. What do you need?”

“Can we meet in Guanajuato? I won’t do this over the phone. You never know who might be listening.”

“Sure, my friend. You know the restaurant Casa Ofelia in El Centro?”

“I do.”

“Good, it’s one of my favourite restaurants. Meet me there. Wait for my confirmation.”

The line went dead, and James handed the phone back to Sinclair as they inched forward again.

“I told you Diego is someone you can trust. He knows this country better than anyone, as far as I know. Just be careful not to trust him too much.” Sinclair ordered their coffee in Spanish, before switching back to English. “Don’t tell him everything about everything.”

“What are you talking about? If he’s one of us, then he’s on our side. I trust you with my life.”

“That’s different. I have a reputation for that. Diego doesn’t.”

James scratched his head, suddenly regretting the idea of drafting anyone else in at all.

“Look, Diego has been with us for years. But that doesn’t mean he’s got a good track record, do you understand?”

James accepted his coffee from Sinclair and blew on it. “If he doesn’t have a good track record, why is he still working for Gallagher?”

“He’s effective when he takes on a contract, but he has a lot of other outside business interests in Mexico. He’s only here because he finished his last contract, and now, like you until recently, he’s laying low. You can trust him outside of Mexico, but inside his number one priority isn’t us.”

The two men moved away from the coffee woman to stand outside the station with their little paper cups.

“Diego has been banned from performing any missions within the country or involving anything to do with Mexico because we can’t trust his loyalty. He owns too many businesses and he’s connected to too many Mexican politicians.”

“So what?”

“So what? So what?” Sinclair exclaimed. “If one side is paying you more than your day job ever could, whose side would you be on?”

James nodded. It finally all made sense. If he owned anything more than a bank card and a passport, he would always take the side of the man with the most money. Nobody entered their line of work out of loyalty to a cause. Dollar bills talked.

“How many people know about this?”

“Gallagher does, but that’s it. Well, and me, of course.”

James ran his tongue around his mouth, wondering if he wanted to work with Diego at all. With his life on the line, he wanted someone who would always have his back.

“Just remember, a man’s loyalty is only to himself, especially in this business.”

He tapped his foot, agonising over the decision in his mind. Drafting in more field agents meant escalating the situation. More bodies meant more chances for things to take a turn for the worst.

“I’ll do it.”

James decided to take the chance. Even if he didn’t quite trust Diego’s loyalties, he trusted Sinclair’s judgement. It took no more than a few minutes for Sinclair’s phone to buzz with Diego’s confirmation.

“He will meet you at Casa Ofelia now.”

Dropping half his coffee into the trash can, he bade goodbye to Sinclair. The ten-minute trip back to the centre passed uneventfully. With everything that had already happened today, James was thankful for the few minutes of calm.

He’d never visited Casa Ofelia before. Nestled in a sea of tourist-orientated restaurants, James hesitated to immerse himself in that tourist hell. He peered inside the varnished shutters and saw Casa Ofelia had but a handful of patrons. James lingered outside for a moment. He spotted a man sitting alone in the corner, a wall partially hiding him from the waiters and the kitchen staff.

James finished his cigarette, stubbed it under his shoe, and entered the restaurant. The inside of Casa Ofelia boasted a cornucopia of decoration. Every inch of the wall, from the tops of the tables to the ceiling, held various pieces of religious imagery. Crosses carved and coloured in every shade imaginable plastered one white wall. On another wall, skulls painted in indigenous patterns represented the Day of the Dead. James wondered if he’d accidentally entered a museum.

The man in the corner looked up from his menu. “Are you Sinclair’s friend?”

James nodded and sat down opposite him on the hard-wooden chairs painted in a garish shade of blue.

“Diego Gutierrez.” He held out his hand.

“James Winchester.”