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

with white pillars covering the veranda and blue shutters on the upstairs windows. The whitewashed stone of the mansion glowed in the afternoon glare.

George parked his Lincoln in the centre of the driveway. The immense car collection of Roberto Romero hid inside the seven-car garage attached to the abode. A couple of gardeners dressed in white tended to the manicured lawns and the splotches of colour in the flowerbeds.

A figure emerged onto the veranda. Roberto Romero wore a pink shirt with gold rings, a gold necklace, and even gold on the frames of his designer sunglasses. The slicked-back hair of the middle-aged immigrant caught the light as he stepped into the sun.

“Senator Black, welcome,” said Romero as he came down the steps to greet them. “How are you, my friend?”

George forced a smile and shook his hand with as much warmth as he could muster. He despised these new money immigrants. The way they butchered the English language with their Hispanic accents and the flashy ways they showed off their wealth made him want to vomit. It wouldn’t have done back in the old days, back in his father’s day.

“Meet my associate, Mr. Jack Hewitt. Jack, this is Mr. Romero.”

Jack shook Romero’s hand as a butler emerged to stand to attention on the veranda.

“Please, join me out back. I can have anything you like delivered to you.”

“A whisky wouldn’t go amiss,” said George.

“Okay, I have the finest whisky from Japan. You’ve never tasted anything like it, trust me.”

Romero clicked his fingers at his butler to spur him into action. The butler disappeared in a flash without any emotion on his impassive features. Romero guided the two of them around the side of the house. The veranda joined with another corridor, held up by stone pillars, leading them around to the back of the house.

“What a lovely garden you have, Mr. Romero.”

George’s compliment rang hollow, but nobody could deny the stunning landscaping. The patio took in multiple levels, with a swimming pool on the level below, and a private marina near the water. Mock alabaster statutes rimmed the main garden displaying some of Europe’s greats, including a Venus de Milo and a statue of David.

The staff had already set the table with a white cloth and pink cushions set in the wrought iron chairs. Pieces of metal had formed to give the impression of vines wrapping around the arms and backs of the chairs.

“So, Senator Black, what brings you here today? How long has it been?”

“Not since last year, around Christmas.” George settled into his chair as the drinks arrived. “Business, of course. I understand how dangerous it can be for us to be seen in public together.”

“Dangerous for you, not so dangerous for me,” said Romero. “You know how the media like to snap their photos and write all sorts of lies on their websites and in their newspapers.”

George, Jack, and Romero raised their glasses in a toast, before sipping from crystal-cut glasses.

“Dangerous for the both of us,” said George. “A scandal could cause problems for you as well as me. Washington is coming under more pressure to stop the violence spilling out of Mexico. The public is starting to notice the drug war. The mass shootings around the US, mysterious deaths in Mexico. It’s getting hotter.”

“Well, what can we do?” Romero gave a relaxed shrug. “Politics is your part of the deal.”

“I know, I know, but I need your cooperation, or this could get out of hand. I’m only a senator, not a member of the government.”

Romero sank further into his chair. His hands twitched like he didn’t understand.

“Mr. Romero, you’re importing and exporting too much. There’s only so much money you can wash and so many guns and drugs you can smuggle in. Joe Public is becoming aware, and when Joe Public becomes aware it’s my ass.”

“Senator Black, how can I help that my business is so successful?”

“You have control. Like OPEC, they increase and reduce the production of oil when they need to. To cover themselves. The more you flood the market, the more you bring attention. The more attention on you, the less willing Washington is to pretend nothing is going on.”

The butler reappeared and whispered in Romero’s ear.

“Gentlemen, I hope you’ll excuse me. There’s a call I need to take. Give me just a few minutes.”

Romero got to his feet with a smile. When he’d made it just ten feet away from them, George heard Romero’s raised voice speaking Spanish. George didn’t speak Spanish. He’d never spoken Spanish on principle, but he imagined the call wasn’t a welcome one.

“I don’t think he’s going to cooperate,” said Jack.

“No, I don’t think so either. These wetbacks think they own the world because they got rich in a couple years. Romero will be dead or in jail within five years, I guarantee it. Until then, we’ll just have to bite our tongues. If not, there’s always an exit strategy.”

Jack frowned. “Do we have one?”

“Jack, you’re responsible for inspecting and providing state oversight for every port in Florida, you can close the gates and open them as you want. If that’s what it takes, I’ll squeeze Romero by the balls just so he understands.”

“Yes, but it won’t take long for him to know that as well. It would only be a matter of time before he suspected you were working against him.”

George sighed. He knew blocking the ports and having more shipments of guns and drugs intercepted would only serve as a Band-Aid for their problems.

“What about Rasgado?” asked Jack.

“Rasgado is the exit strategy. We can use him to get rid of Romero if we have to, but I’d rather not bring him into it. Like in America, politicians are best left to one side.”

Romero reappeared at the top of the steps. He