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

front of him. Steepling his fingers in front of his face, he took the measure of his prey. Ratko still shook with anger and rage, just like the ambassador’s victims had during the Bosnian and Kosovan Wars. They wanted to hurt him, but they didn't have the means to do it.

"The foreigners. Tell me about them."

"What foreigners?"

"Are you really going to try this with me? I know perfectly well that two foreigners were here, and you aided them in hunting down Sadik Kadrić. It makes no sense to lie to me, I know Kadrić's men did that to you."

Ratko's hand involuntarily rose to the healing cuts and bruises crisscrossing his face like a patchwork quilt.

"I don't need to hear about what they were doing. I already know that. What were their names?"

"James Winchester and Sinclair Wood," said Ratko.

"As I suspected. I have already had the pleasure of making their acquaintance. Is it not interesting that two foreigners would be so determined to dismantle an entire country for the purposes of assassinating one man?"

Ratko glowered at him. "No."

"You are a patriot, no? I understand that the White Rose is concerned with the future of Bosnia and the protection of its people. In many ways, we are alike."

"We're not alike," Ratko cried. "Men like you only want to destroy my country. You want peace, but you want peace on your terms, and if anyone disagrees with those terms, you'll put them in the ground. I wonder what you did during the war, Plemenac. You would have been old enough to fight in it."

Plemenac inclined his head. So, Ratko didn't know who he was before he became Vojo Plemenac. Perhaps the foreigners hadn't worked as closely with Ratko and the White Rose as he initially expected. Nonetheless, organisations like this presented a threat.

"If you're here to kill me, just do it. I won't do anything to help the likes of you."

"In good time. I find it remarkable that you are so uninformed about the situation or why I’m here. Understand this, I was the man who murdered Sadik Kadrić."

Ratko's head snapped up. "You?"

"Yes. Me. He was a threat to the future of this country. I have no need to run interest groups in the manner of the mafia. A man with a reputation like Kadrić’s is a threat to every Bosnian-Serb in the country, and the stability of the very thing we fight for."

Ratko's stunned expression amused him. "No, this is all wrong. You're lying."

"Tell me, how did Kadrić aim to achieve his goals?"

"That's obvious. He was going to create unrest. Those murders over the last few months were done to create a wedge between Bosnians and Bosnian-Serbs. He was trying to start a war knowing full well it would probably lead to Srpska gaining its independence."

"Yes. An open secret to anyone involved on either side. That is exactly why Kadrić had to be removed. Do you understand?"

"And you're trying to tell me that you're opposed to Kadrić?" Ratko pursed his lips. "You're unbelievable."

Plemenac shrugged. "To leverage both the Bosnian and Croatian entities within this country is a slow process. Over time, these two entities have appeased Srpska to avoid sparking a conflict. It is true that violence will accelerate the process, but, as you know, Srpska would always be seen as the aggressor. Serbia would never get involved. History would determine where intervention came from, not the present."

"So, if violence isn't the answer for you, what is?"

"Violence is still the answer, but a different kind of violence." Plemenac crossed one leg over the other. "A type of violence men like Kadrić could never understand. Srpska must be seen as the victim. For that, casualties must be inflicted upon Bosnian-Serbs. The Federation must be seen to be committing acts of oppression."

"But we're not. We wouldn't do that because we want peace."

Plemenac smirked. "Are you sure about that? Look to your father. Watch any football match where the game is a metaphor for a new war. No, war is desired on both sides, but it must be controlled, it must have purpose."

Plemenac picked up and toyed with his gun in the ensuing silence. He fingered the safety lever, considering his next move. The White Rose were a threat, but the real threat was Ratko himself. His connections to known Bosnian nationalists made him a potential tool to be used in the future.

"The 21st century is a difficult time for war," he mused. "War has become the new debating stage. The side that wins international opinion wins the war. The plan is quite simple. The heavy weapons I have will be used against Srpska. Ordinary people. Men, women, and children. The soldiers will be wearing the uniforms of Bosnians and Croatians."

"A false flag operation?" Ratko looked horrified.

"Precisely. I will reap fire and death upon Bosnian-Serb villages and towns. The fire will be such a great one that the great powers of the world will not be able to ignore it. Denials from the government in Sarajevo will be treated with contempt. Ordinary citizens across the world will universally stand behind Srpska and its desire for freedom."

Ratko's mouth dropped open. "You're crazy."

"I'm practical. In a few days, the leaders of the European Union will come to Sarajevo. A mass killing with military grade weapons outside of their office windows could not be ignored. The eyes of the world's media will be on us."

Ratko dove forwards at Plemenac. The carving knife swished through the air with murderous intent.

Plemenac deftly dodged the blade, the knife cutting the air. He smashed the butt of his weapon down on Ratko's head. The blow made a sickening crunch. Ratko fell like a sack of potatoes, his eyes glazing over.

"Excuse me." Plemenac picked the carving knife out of Ratko's grip. "Good men treat their guests with respect. I