Interdiction (A James Winchester Thriller Book 3) (James Winchester Series), James Samuel [book recommendations TXT] 📗

"Strange building."

James marvelled at the seemingly random design of the parliament building. The modern glass and steel building boasted a towering skyscraper akin to a single birthday candle.

"They say it's supposed to symbolise the Federation and Srpska," Nazifa explained. "All it managed to do was annoy both sides. The Bosnian-Serbs don't like it and the Bosnians don't like it. They should have just rebuilt the old one."

"Anyway.” James cleared his throat to bring her back to his point. “Where should he be?"

Nazifa took out her smartphone. A glowing green valley showed up on in bright colours on her screen. "He should be getting ready to leave about now."

James shook his head. "This is rash. We should have made a plan. This place is crawling with police."

"You are too careful. I have already tracked him like the wild animal he is. He leaves at the same time every day. Look for a black Land Rover with the license plate ending in 'YX'."

James wasn't looking for a Land Rover, but he was eyeing up the police guarding the complex. Dressed all in black and wearing thick, clunky body armour, he could just about make out their faces oozing with suspicion. A Vauxhall Corsa wouldn't stand a chance of outrunning any police vehicle. He gripped the steering wheel, adrenaline beginning to pulse in his veins.

"There," Nazifa squealed. "There it is. Go."

James observed a black car leaving the complex, the glow of ‘YX’ caught in his headlights. "Is he driving himself?"

"No, he has a driver."

"Is he in the back or the front."

"Always in the front."

James nodded and watched the car go. He idled for a few moments before following. It moved out of sight of the parliament building and into the city.

"Don't let him get to the freeway," she said. "We won't keep up."

He responded by putting his foot down and darting in between a few cars before they could block their path at the traffic lights. Suput's car was only a few metres ahead of them. His hands gripped the wheel like iron. Sinclair's disapproval kept popping into his mind. This was a bad idea. Why was he doing this?

No, he knew why. Nazifa.

"Get on the passenger side on the next road."

After following the car down through the heart of the city, they passed the U.S. embassy. Silhouetted to be imposing, Old Glory fluttered in the wind, daring him to try something. James took controlled gulps of air. His pulse thundered now as they turned onto the next road. One lane became two and James forced the car forwards.

"Not now, not now." Nazifa slapped her knee. "Wait for the lights. We get one chance."

"Alright, Jesus Christ, you need to calm down."

James slowed up. The lights were green. They sailed through. Nazifa's breathing became audible.

"There are more lights up there. Two minutes. That's the way he will go."

His eyes kept swivelling between Suput's car and the speedometer. The nose of the Vauxhall almost kissed the rear lights of the Land Rover. Nobody was in their way.

"Come on, come on," Nazifa muttered.

The lights appeared ahead. They switched to red. Now was the time. Nazifa cranked the handle on her right and lowered the window. A frigid breeze rushed into the car, stinging their fingers, and freezing the sides of their faces.

The Land Rover stopped. James brought the car to a halt next to it.

"Now, do it now," James hissed.

Nazifa revealed her .44 Remington Magnum and brought it to the window. She fired. A bullet shattered the Land Rover's window. James saw the figure in the passenger seat, blinded by the flying glass. Nazifa fired a second and a third bullet from mere feet away. He watched the man slump. Horns blared. The whole street gasped as one.

"Drive! Drive!"

James' ears rang from the blast of the bullets at such close range. He threw the car into gear and broke through the lights. He flew around the corner to the right, narrowly missing an oncoming bus. Angry drivers thumped on their horns. To James, they were nothing more than whispers on the wind. He sped through the traffic and took every turn he could as they headed for the river and the old town.

"Police?" James breathed.

Nazifa threw her head around. "None, we are safe."

"We're not safe yet. We've got to get out of sight."

"You overestimate Bosnian police, Englishman." Nazifa ran a hand through her purple hair and let out a laugh. "What a rush, eh? It's just like being in the army again."

James kept driving without a word. He'd taken an unnecessary risk by doing this tonight. This should never have happened. He wouldn't take another chance until they were well out of sight. As Nazifa crowed about the death of Tomislav Suput, James kept moving.

Every action had an equal and opposite reaction. He dreaded to think what would happen next.

Chapter Eleven

All manner of things ran through Sinclair's mind. At four in the morning, James still hadn't returned to the hotel. He hoped his compatriot had become too drunk and spent the night with Nazifa. His own experiences with James told him nothing was ever that predictable.

The Hotel Old Town creaked as the building shifted and the fridge buzzed. He sat in the darkness at the oaken kitchen table, a single pink plastic rose in a long-necked container for company. He feared the worst, but what could he do? Fear for what James could have done. Fear for what it could mean for him. He tightened his dressing gown.

His phone pinged. The screen came to life with the damning word 'Gallagher' flashing on the screen. Sinclair hesitated to answer, staring at his phone vibrating along the wood. He shook his head and answered the call.

"Yes, sir?"