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

their journey started and proceeded to burn the rubber from his tyres as the lights changed to green again. The power of the car pressed James’s back to the seat as it left a trail of smoke drifting down the road.

“Sounds like a jet engine,” James barked.

“That’s the point, pal,” Blake smirked in James’s direction.

“Well, you know what they say about Americans…”

Blake laughed at that. “Yeah, this is why we run the world and you guys used to run the world. How’d you like that, limey?”

James shook his head as they headed towards the lake.

Lake Yuriria was the main reason why most people from Guanajuato visited Yuriria. Little islands dotted the heart of the blue expanse. Overgrown trees bent towards the surface of the still waters. Various reeds created a painter’s palette of vibrant blues and greens set against the cloudless sky.

“So, you see any haciendas in the distance?” Blake ducked his head to look through the windscreen. “Looks just like the sides of the lake to me.”

“Nothing yet. He did say the north side so you might want to try not sitting on the south shore of the lake, firstly. Secondly, try some patience.”

“Smart. You might be useful after all.”

Blake pointed the saloon towards the east side of the lake, and they traced the shore along dusty side roads. The Audi bumped and rocked along the missing cobbles as Blake tried in vain to protect the suspension and paintwork of his beloved car.

It took them over an hour to trace the rim of the lake. Only when they made it onto the north side did they spot the collection of haciendas Vargas had mentioned. Some of them were next to the shore, others dotted the mountains beyond.

“So much for a quiet entrance. If anyone looks out of those windows, they’ll see us for miles around,” said James.

“Well, you say it’s unguarded so that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

James pointed through Blake’s window. “Look, there it is.”

“How can you be sure?”

“It’s worth a try. I don’t see any other red haciendas around here.”

The red hacienda in question clung to the mountainside away from the lakeshore. A small road leading up to it seemed like the only point of access.

“See if the road goes past it. It would be easier to come at it from above.”

Blake grunted his agreement and drove past the hacienda. James pointed to several other dwellings much further up the mountain, highlighting any potential vantage points for Quezada’s men.

“Maybe you can turn around up there.”

Blake grunted in annoyance at his suggestions.

Scenes from the mission that broke their relationship flared in his mind. James couldn’t let Blake’s temper get in the way of success today, like it had so many times before. Blake had a habit of taking credit for the triumphs of others. James’ triumphs, mainly.

The road twisted and turned until Blake found a small area to pull over in. Scrubland surrounded their sandy parking spot and tyre tracks were embedded into the dusty ground.

James got out of the car. “This is strange. Why would these be here in the middle of the mountains?”

“It’s nothing.” Blake wrinkled his nose. “You waste time trying to analyse things that don’t matter.”

“And you make mistakes and try to blame your partners for them. If it weren’t for Gallagher, you’d be sitting behind a desk.”

Blake spat on the ground. “You got your head up your ass.”

James tried to ignore Blake as he observed the hacienda. From here, James could tell the hacienda looked old. Its missing red paint spoke of neglect and the passage of time. Like so many narco mansions, a courtyard in the centre marked the starting point for any would-be visitor.

“Christ.” James scanned the layout. “No way of telling which room she’ll be in.”

“If she’s still there at all. I don’t give a damn what Vargas said. I don’t trust him.”

James bristled. “Well, all we can do is try. It doesn’t look like they have anyone armed there. No patrols and no soldiers.”

“Then you knock yourself out, Winchester. I’ll stay here and cheer you on from the car.”

James gave Blake a disgusted look. “You’re not much of a partner, are you?”

“I drove you here. Now, go on, get. I’ll fly in to save the day if there’s a problem.”

James muttered curses to himself as he left Blake by the car and descended the hill. He pointed his feet slightly off to the side to avoid falling as he continued his approach. As he drew closer, he realised he still didn’t have a concrete plan for what to do if Quezada had already moved her.

At the side of the building, he checked the windows and grounds for any hidden patrols. His nerves thrummed with each corner he turned. He heard nothing but the breeze moving through the burned grass.

To his surprise, he found the entrance to the hacienda wide open. No locked gates, no guards, not even a doorbell to ring. James didn’t trust this. The whole place looked abandoned, but if Quezada assumed Vargas had talked, he would know Jessi was no longer secure.

With his hand on his pistol, he advanced into the hacienda. He passed through the wide-open gate and into the courtyard. Here he discovered the same silence. Nothing stirred other than his footsteps scuffing the stone floor.

He decided he had no choice but to break into the house. At the very least, James had to know if this was the right place. He moved along the courtyard, checking the doors to see which one he could force most easily. Success came at the opposite end of the courtyard. The wood looked warped, beaten down by a thousand afternoon suns. The keyhole appeared rusty and seldom used.

He gazed around the silent hacienda again and