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

one-way system meant Diego regularly rolled down the window to scream at someone who had done nothing wrong. He cursed to himself in Spanish as he took James on an unwelcome tour of the centre of town.

“What’s the plan?” asked James to try to get Diego to stop yelling at the people of Pátzcuaro.

Diego grunted as they came to the uppermost road and found their hotel opposite the faded cathedral, with its tower puncturing the gathering clouds. He parked his car directly in front of the hotel doors, two wheels on the path and two on the road.

“More action, I assume.”

“That hardly narrows it down, does it?”

“We could always kidnap the old woman. That should bring him out of hiding.”

James scoffed at the idea. “Kidnapping an old woman? What, are you going to tie her up and waterboard her as well?”

“Maybe.”

James didn’t like the sound of that, but Diego had already ventured into the hotel, ending any further possibility of conversation. The sad thing was James believed that Diego would follow through on his threats if Vargas didn’t show.

After a couple of hours showering and checking their gear, the two agents reconvened in front of the hotel. Neither of them trusted staying in one place for too long anymore. The cartels could be watching the hotels across Central Mexico. Their reach extended everywhere in this land.

He scanned the street in front of him. Worn market traders and old women in church clothes hurried about their business. James saw no immediate threats, but he couldn’t trust peace. Fits of peace were when things went wrong.

“Let’s go,” said James. “We don’t have the time.”

Diego set his GPS and drove them towards the nearby shore of Lake Pátzcuaro. His GPS drew out an arterial line cutting through the town. Pátzcuaro sat on the southern edge of the main lake. From the town, a mountain towered above them. Most of the time, an immovable mist shrouded the peak.

“It’s not far from town, so it gives us an advantage,” said James as they sailed down the hill out of Pátzcuaro. “If it was in the middle of nowhere, it would be far more difficult to watch the house without looking suspicious.”

Diego kept checking the point he’d placed on his GPS as they approached the vicinity of the address. Every so often, he would look around for any major landmarks for them to follow going to and from the house. Sinclair had given them an address and a photo of the house, but addresses were rarely accurate outside the hearts of towns and cities.

The house in question took up a position on the lakeshore. These homes all had balconies and bay windows looking out onto the majesty of the lake and its islands in the centre. From the rear, they happened upon large remote-controlled gates, walls topped with broken glass, and featureless driveways.

“Neighbourhood looks quiet enough,” James remarked.

“No, no, these are just big houses. They don’t have the same level of security as the homes of Montoya and Quezada. For a start, they won’t be surrounded by large groups of armed men. I would be surprised if Vargas’ mother has any security at all, unless they have a dog.”

“That doesn’t sound likely if Vargas is fond of his mother.”

“It’s his mother. A lieutenant’s mother isn’t a target in war.”

James ran his tongue across his teeth. “Does this mean we’re marking a new low in the drug war?”

“Potentially.”

“This could cause more problems than before. We’ve already caused enough damage without giving Quezada and Montoya a license to start targeting the elderly.”

Diego chuckled at that. “Quezada already did that when he took Jessi Montoya. She never had anything to do with the business, and he kidnapped her anyway, remember? And now he’s trying to marry her. That was already a new low in the war.”

“But aren’t we better than that?”

“You and your conscience, Winchester.” Diego pulled over at the side of the road. They’d reached their destination. “It’s not our place to start judging morality. Our only orders are to get the job done. The methods are dealer’s choice.”

James shook his head. He knew Diego had a point. Blackwind had never troubled itself with means only ends. Still, James preferred to keep his work as clean as possible. He wanted to sleep at night.

“We need to get the lay of the land before we make a move,” said Diego. “Let’s go to the gate and see if we can get in touch with her. If she’s as old as Sinclair said, it shouldn’t be too much trouble to get inside.”

James and Diego got out of the car and crossed the road. Every gate had an intercom all visitors had to buzz before they could gain entry. Diego pressed the button on the little metal box. The sound of a ringing phone blared from the speakers.

A woman answered, careful and measured. “Hello?”

“Good morning, I’m here to deliver a message from Vargas to his mother. Sorry to bother you.”

“Oh, his mother will be so happy to hear from him. He hasn’t visited for a month. She’s been worried about him. Let me press the button and open the gate. I’ll make sure she’s ready to see you.”

The voice disappeared with a static crackle and the gate slid open. The gate inched forwards at a painful pace.

“Is she really that trusting?” asked James.

“She’ll be nothing more than a cleaner for the mother. That’s why she’s so trusting. She won’t understand anything about who Vargas is or about his business.”

As they walked up the concrete driveway, James’ senses pricked up. This had all the makings of a trap. He gazed up at every window and across the lawn, searching for any signs of activity. He never took his hand away from the gun hidden inside his coat.