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

“You know about that?”

“Sure. He’s going to kill Romero sooner or later, and that’ll fulfil the terms of the deal. Romero was the client who hired us to kill you in the first place, but I’m sure you already worked that out.”

“That’s how you treat people who give you money?”

“Normally, no, but in this business, there are no guarantees. Circumstances on his side changed, so we can’t pretend like everything is hunky-dory, can we? Romero is finished, so my organisation has altered its plans.”

“Just… don’t contact me again.”

Blake grinned as he took out his phone. “I’m deleting your number as we speak. When you leave this house, we’ll never see each other again.”

Quezada nodded.

Moments later, a shot from a suppressed pistol slew Quezada where he stood. The bullet left a gaping hole in his throat. Blake tilted his head.

“You can come down. He’s gone.”

From the hallway on the second floor, Montoya leered over the balcony into the open-plan space below. Only Blake and Montoya remained unhurt. Montoya could have killed him then and there if he’d wanted.

But he didn’t.

The leader of La Familia entered the lounge area. He extended his hand to Blake in a signal of friendship, which he took.

“You can do whatever you want with Fernando. I’d tie up these loose ends if I were you.”

“That was the deal,” said Montoya. “You give me Guanajuato and I’ll kill Quezada and Gomez for you. I don’t know why you were so interested in Quezada if you didn’t have to fulfil your contract anymore.”

Blake flicked his eyebrows. He’d already said enough about the nature of his work. Ordinarily, he would have never revealed his true business to an outsider, but he had to in order to get Montoya and his men onside. He could have never killed Fernando and Quezada without great personal risk to himself. Now, with the contract fulfilled and Romero about to expire, Blackwind could extract itself. Gallagher would be delighted.

“You heard what I said to Quezada, right? Killing him means nobody can say we didn’t complete the contract. When we promise to get the job done, we get it done.”

“Sure, well, we’re both happy, then. One other thing. Did you ever find out where my sister went?”

Blake’s eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t like Montoya’s tone. Did he suspect he had something to do with it?

“Who knows? Nothing to do with me. Now the war’s practically over, she’ll turn up soon enough. How far could she possibly get anyway?”

Montoya nodded and grinned down at Fernando. If Montoya were in a good mood, he might die quickly.

Blake snatched his suppressed pistol off the table and disappeared through the backdoor. He wanted to get away from the scene before Montoya had a chance to think about his sister. Jessi Montoya was alive and well, and Blake knew exactly where she was.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Miami, Florida, United States of America

The skyscraper office block across the main road running adjacent to Billionaire Bunker overlooked an enormous swath of the most exclusive area of Miami. A large, electrified fence protected the entrance from the water, strategically covered by a selection of bushes and palm trees. Every few minutes, a speedboat would pass, piloted by men in dark glasses and grim expressions.

The concrete, steel, and glass behemoth above offered exclusive office space. Multiple cranes tended to it like architectural nurses. James and Sinclair spent the day scouting out the location in their Mazda. The more James thought about the scene in front of him, the more he doubted whether he could make the shot.

“Worst case scenario, you miss, and we have to think of a new plan,” said Sinclair in the driver’s seat. “Don’t worry about it.”

Those words didn’t reassure him as he stared out of the passenger window. He could only think of the consequences and what it might mean if he allowed Romero to escape. The damage he would cause after he rebuilt his operations from afar.

The night couldn’t come quick enough. James knew it was suicide. When the time came and the sun fell from the sky, Sinclair started their drive towards the skyscraper. When the office night lights switched themselves on, he knew his opportunity had arrived.

“Check your earpiece,” said Sinclair. “And good luck.”

James affixed the earpiece in the car before climbing out and opening up the trunk. Inside, the case for the sniper rifle. The L115A3 Long Range Rifle was enormous and required multiple parts to assemble. The premier sniper rifle in the Middle East was famous for its involvement in long-range kills.

“Can you hear me?” Sinclair’s voice burst into his ear.

“I can hear you.” James fiddled with the volume button of his earpiece. “Let’s hope that Romero is where he should be, or this was a complete waste of time.”

“This is your operation. You could have always killed Quezada and then we wouldn’t have to do this at all.”

James didn’t dignify Sinclair’s barb with an answer as he slammed the trunk closed and made his way across the road to the skyscraper’s parking lot. Apart from the cars whizzing past and the sound of a plane in the distance, James couldn’t spot any serious security threats.

“See anything?”

“No. Where am I going?”

“Follow the parking lot to the end and follow the path,” said Sinclair. “You’ll need to go through reception. Expect to see some sort of security. I don’t know what their security procedures are like here.”

“Reassuring.”

“They should be the same as every other skyscraper in America. Some security guard working for nothing who’s not going to risk his life to save the rich bastards inside. Just put him out. Don’t kill him.”

James left the parking lot and stepped onto the path, flanked on one side by neatly trimmed lawns and gorgeous flowerbeds lit