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

table. There was a look of fear, almost terror in her face. Her full lips trembled. There were tears dancing her eyes.

"I cannot." She leaned against her chair. "I cannot."

James attempted to reach out to her, but she pulled away. "What's wrong? Tell me."

"I'm sorry, James. I cannot explain to you. I call you, okay?"

With that, Nazifa departed, her long coat swishing around her ankles as she scurried away.

Chapter Forty-Three

Kakanj, Zenica-Doboj, Bosnia and Herzegovina

Darko's chest burned. A hot knife had seared his skin and penetrated straight through to his heart. Kadrić had been found dead in Belgrade. Over the weekend, Darko had called and called, expecting to hear an update from his master and mentor on their situation. Nothing got through.  In his soul, he'd known something had happened, but he didn't want to believe it.

He stared at the worn, frayed carpet in his living room. It barely hid the cracked floorboards underneath. Being in his family home alone like this, hearing nothing but the ticking clock, made him wonder what it would mean for him. Kadrić had never designated a successor. He wasn't a leader. Where could he even hope to begin?

His phone rang, but Darko didn't respond to it. It continued. Irritating, Insistent. He leaned over the sagging sofa and snatched it from the arm. The caller ID was Kadrić's. How could that be possible? His hand trembled as he accepted the call.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Borisov?" A smooth English voice came through the phone. "Do you speak English?"

"Yes." His voice sounded unsure, foreign to his ears. "Who is this?"

"The man who saw everything in Belgrade on the night Kadrić died."

"What?"

"My name is James Winchester. You don't know me, but I'm the foreigner who's been trying to kill you for the past few weeks."

Darko's eyes widened. Hatred like stomach acid rose through his bowels. He let loose with a violent flurry of curses, threats, and vows to kill in his own language.

"Are you finished, Mr. Borisov?" James paused. "The reason I came to Bosnia was to assassinate Sadik Kadrić. However, things have taken a different path. I did not kill Kadrić, but I know who did."

"You lie!"

"Why would I waste my time calling you if I was lying? Kadrić is dead, my contract is finished. I could leave tomorrow and say nothing, but I'm not going to."

"How did you get his phone if you are telling the truth? You lie to me. You think I'm a fool." Darko snapped to his feet and paced around his living room. "Is this a joke?"

"Not at all. I spoke to Kadrić as he died. He told me everything. His last request was for me to take his phone and call you for help."

Darko screwed up his face. He wanted to dismiss the toxic foreigner, but things didn't add up. The foreigner had nothing to gain by reaching out to him, especially with Kadrić's phone.

"You were Kadrić's closest man, weren't you?"

"Of course, I was. He gave me my life. He saved me more times than I can count. We were brothers, something a filthy foreigner like you could never understand." He swiped some errant tears from his eyes. "You come to my country and you bring death. Death for things you could never understand when all we do is fight for our freedom. Yes, I know what people like you want."

"I know the man who murdered Kadrić. He stabbed him in the neck with a pen until he bled to death. Do you want to see Kadrić’s murderer dead?"

Darko cringed at the description of how Kadrić had died, by betrayal, the worst possible way for a warrior patriot like him to die.

"Mr. Borisov?"

"Yes," Darko replied through gritted teeth.

"Then I'm asking you to calm down and to cooperate. We can help each other."

"You? Foreigner, why would you want to avenge his death?"

"I don't," James' uncaring tone rent his bubbling insides. "I have my own reasons. It's in my interests to see his killer dead. If you don't ask any questions, we can meet, and I'll tell you everything."

"You want to be friends?" Darko raised his voice. "Friends with you? You murdered Goran in cold blood."

"I did. It was necessary. But I'm the only man alive who knows who murdered Kadrić that night. You can leave aside your animosity for me and we can work together to avenge his death, or I can leave tomorrow and you'll never know who was behind it. That's my offer to you."

Darko squeezed the phone in his fist like he had James' neck in his grip. He thrashed about silently, tortured by his desire to avenge Goran and Kadrić' both.  Darko felt himself trapped in an impossible position. Leaning against the wall, he pressed his hand against the dirty windowpanes looking out onto the polluted River Zgošća.

"Foreigner," He spat every syllable. "I will meet you. You will tell me everything. Then I will avenge Kadrić."

"Very well. But I want to meet in a public place. You don't bring anyone. I'll know if you do and then the meeting is off, understand?"

"Fine."

"Good, suggest a public place, somewhere close to Sarajevo."

"Travnik," said Darko without thinking. "There is a fortress. A tourist attraction. You buy a ticket at the gate and go in. Tourists like to go there. I will not go to Sarajevo now. I do not trust you, Foreigner."

"That will be fine. Stay in touch, Mr. Borisov."

Darko lowered the phone and clicked to end the call. He shook with a mixture of fear and anger. As he lowered the crown of his head against the glass, he tried to remember the lessons Kadrić had taught him throughout his life. The ability to control his anger, to see the big picture, to work with one's enemies to achieve a greater