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

matter what you think about it, James. It’s happening, so you will need to put your differences aside for the sake of the mission.”

James shook his head in despair. “How many times has he screwed us?”

“I know.” Sinclair sank lower in his chair. “But what can we do? You don’t think I like having him around either, do you?”

He cast his mind back to all the contracts involving Blake. James had saved his ass on more than one occasion. Without him, Blake would be lying at the bottom of Hong Kong’s Victoria Harbour. He’d still had the gall to claim all the credit and pretend like nothing had ever happened.

“Anything for a pat on the head from Gallagher.”

Sinclair threw his hands in the air. “I bet he’s here on some other contract from Gallagher. I don’t trust him in the slightest, but we’re stuck with him.”

James shoved his chair back and quick-marched to his room to let himself cool down. Some people had two faces. Blake had countless. He wondered what secret contract Gallagher had assigned him this time.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Cancun, Quintana Roo, Mexico

 

Santa Maria de Guadalupe wallowed in disaster. Vargas had taken some of their most effective soldiers and seen them all obliterated. Fernando hated the gringo, he hated his comrades, and he hated Montoya. So many of their best men and most effective brothers wiped out in less than an hour.

Alex looked despondent. Fernando glanced over at him in their little boutique hotel, wondering what he felt. People like them didn’t talk about their feelings. It was a sign of weakness. Fernando wondered if Alex thought the gringo would come for him next.

“Come on, Alex.” Fernando stood from the painted table in the stone courtyard. “We have to carry out Quezada’s orders. We’ll get the gringo. He’s only one man.”

Alex sighed and waved a hand, his cigarette drooping listlessly. “Vargas was a good friend of mine. A real good friend. We met each other in high school.”

“Now’s not the time for that. Let’s take our revenge. Francisco Seco is here on vacation. He won’t have any protection.”

Alex waved another hand. Fernando just looked at him. He’d given in. For the first time, he didn’t look up to Alex as an inspiration. His mentor had become a shadow of his former self. How could a single setback make him submit like this?

“Are you going to do this or not?” asked Fernando.

“I don’t have the mind for it.”

“Then cover me. I’ll do it myself. We know where he’s staying, and we know the bars he’ll be hanging out in.”

Alex shook his head and dragged himself up from the table. Fernando analysed his partner. He wouldn’t be much use to him, but he could do it himself. Quezada would praise him to the heavens after this. Why wouldn’t Quezada make him a lieutenant with Vargas gone and Alex showing such weakness?

Alex joined him in the taxi and kicked the back of the seat. They each had some small arms that they’d managed to bring to the city via a long intercity bus ride. Killing an enemy in Cancun was like killing an enemy in Queretaro: unheard of. But Quezada had made the decision and Fernando would deliver his revenge to the peaceful resort city.

“I want you to know that I’m sorry for Vargas, and I understand this is a major problem for us, but doing nothing is not the answer,” said Fernando.

Alex touched his lips with two fingers as he gazed out of the window. “I know. But I just don’t have the heart for this.”

Fernando tapped the Glock 19 inside his belt. He knew he wouldn’t get Alex in the game at this rate. No, he would push Alex aside and take the glory himself if he had to.

They’d found Francisco staying in a hotel in Downtown Cancun the night before. The box-like array of buildings resembled a child’s playset. Someone had painted them in garish colours and some local artists had tried to give this soulless Mexican Disneyland a personality by painting murals.

The taxi wound its way towards the bus station. A hotel tower, the Hotel Paradise, hid the bus station from view. The Hotel Paradise had hundreds of beds, making it difficult for anyone to keep track of their guests. That gave them the advantage.

“He should be in a bar at this hour.” Fernando checked his phone. “He won’t have altered his routine from yesterday because he thinks he’s untouchable here.”

Eight in the evening meant partygoers descended on the bars. They’d followed Francisco over the last couple of days to gauge his movements. He never deviated from his course. A smug smile on his face as he enjoyed the sunshine and a curvy young woman hanging from his arm.

“You do as I say,” said Fernando to the driver.

“Yes, you explained over the phone. You got the money?”

“Alex?”

Alex took a deep breath and dug into his wallet. As arranged, he handed over crisp, used US dollar bills. A taxi driver in Cancun wouldn’t earn that much in a year, no matter how much they overcharged the tourists. Even though the driver knew their line of work, he hadn’t hesitated to go along with them.

“Stop here,” said Fernando. “I’m going to get in the front. Drive slowly past these bars, understand?”

“Yes, señor.”

The main strip of downtown Cancun boasted various clubs, bars, and restaurants lining both sides of the road. Reggaeton banged out of the speakers at vulgar volumes. Patrons cajoled at the decorated tables in shiny shoes and fake designer sunglasses.

Fernando got into the front of the car and took his gun out from his belt. Alex, in the clutch of his depression, held back.

“Drive slowly. I want to see everyone in every bar, understand? If we don’t see him, you turn around