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

on his cigarette. A man appeared at the gate. James didn't need to ask who it was. Dressed all in black, Darko purchased his ticket and walked into what was once the central courtyard of the fortress.

He raised a hand to signal Darko. His man looked up for a brief moment and strode towards him. Darko ascended the fortifications like a mountain goat. As he came closer, James got a full look at Kadrić's former right-hand man. His square jaw jutted out and his charcoal-like eyes smouldered with undisguised rage.

"Darko Borisov," James said.

"Foreigner," Darko replied with venom. "You are lucky I don't kill you now."

James resisted the urge to whip back at him. "We are not here for that. I never killed Kadrić and shooting me will not bring him back."

Darko took a long step forward. "You were going to murder him. You were there to murder him."

James chewed on his tongue as he ruminated over his next words. "You loved him, didn't you?"

"More than my own flesh and blood."

"Then you should calm down, stop threatening to kill me, and understand that Kadrić gave me his phone before he died. He told me to contact you because he knew you were reliable. Kadrić understood the bigger picture, and I think he wanted you to as well or he wouldn't have brought me into this."

Darko's face tightened. He flicked his tongue like a cobra preparing to strike.

"I could have left straightaway, but I didn't. You can either work with me or you can walk away, but without me you haven't got a chance."

Darko rolled his shoulders back. His mouth opened slightly as he took in deep breaths. James could see the anger bubbling under the surface.

He ignored Darko and turned back to the view over Travnik. Taking out his crumpled packet, he took out a cigarette and popped it in his mouth. Darko's shoes crushed the wet blades of grass as he paced in front of him.

James offered a cigarette.

Darko snatched it out of his hand and lit it with his own lighter. He, too, stared out over Travnik without looking at James.

"What is it you want?" asked Darko.

"Maybe I care a little too much. My business is not normally about doing the right thing, but the man who killed Kadrić is dangerous. Extremely dangerous."

"You are in the business of death," he said matter-of-factly.

"I am. But my motivations are not important. What's important is that you're willing to work with me."

"Fine. But for Kadrić, not for you. I will never trust you."

"That's fine."

"Okay." Darko turned to him, the white cigarette smoke blowing past his face. "Who killed him?"

"Vojo Plemenac."

Darko's eyes narrowed. "Impossible."

"I was there. I saw it all. Ambassador Vojo Plemenac has usurped Kadrić’s position."

Darko gritted his teeth together. "This is impossible. No, he is our friend. Sadik worked with him. He was one of us. He wanted an independent Srpska. This cannot be true."

James flicked his cigarette over the side of the fortress and folded his arms. "Well, it is. Plemenac believes he's a better leader, so he killed Kadrić, and he'll get away with it. He has protection around him most of the time. He has diplomatic immunity, so if you do anything to him, your dreams of an independent Bosnian-Serb republic are finished. And he knows that."

Darko's eyes swivelled in his sockets as his brain processed the mass of information James had just given him, explaining Plemenac’s brilliant play. It had shattered the world of the nationalists and only a foreigner – a foreigner they would never trust – knew the truth. James had figured even an animal like Darko could understand that.

“What do you want from me?” said Darko after a pause.

“Your help. You know a lot of people on your side. Plemenac isn’t going to stay quiet for long. Together, we can finish Plemenac.”

Darko nodded. “Okay, foreigner.”

“We will have to approach this in a specific way. Killing Plemenac must be done quietly. The man does have diplomatic immunity. It would damage your movement irreparably if that were violated. Even your desire for revenge isn’t worth that price.”

“Yes, foreigner. You are right. But this does not mean we are friends.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” James extended his hand. “Stay in touch.”

Darko eyed his hand with undisguised disgust. Eventually, he took it. He dug his fingers into James’ flesh, as if he wanted to draw blood.

They exchanged no parting words and no smiles. James watched him go, his shoulders hunched against his ears, understanding that the day would come when Darko would come for him.

James waited for him to leave the fortress before abandoning his position and returning to the tower. Nazifa had her hands on her hips. Her face twisted into a mask of hatred.

“I cannot believe you would shake his hand. He is filth.”

“Useful filth, for now.”

“You trust him, don’t you?” she said.

“Not at all. He doesn’t trust me either.”

“Then let me kill him. We don’t need him. I can do it now. That path is quiet. He won’t expect it.”

“No,” he snapped. “I made a deal with him and shook the man’s hand. I’m not like them. I’ll honour my deals.”

Nazifa turned on her heel and stomped away. She moved with a swiftness that made James want to follow, fearing she would go against him and shoot Darko in the back. He stopped himself. No, she wouldn’t do that, no matter how much their kiss bothered her.

Chapter Forty-Eight

 

Sarajevo, Sarajevo Canton, Bosnia and Herzegovina

 

Two long days after the meeting in Travnik, James found himself still waiting in the Hotel Old Town. Two-thirds of the time remaining with Sinclair had elapsed without any progress. Nazifa hadn’t called him. Plemenac had seemingly disappeared off the face of the world