Failed State (A James Winchester Thriller Book 1) (James Winchester Series)
Page 21
As he drove through the gates of the hacienda into the silent courtyard, the stench of death hit him. Sinclair was no field agent. He hated the violence. Switching off the engine, he fought back tears, terrified of what he might see. He had never imagined James dying before. It was unimaginable.
“Oh, Christ.” Sinclair sighed in relief.
James appeared on the upper level of the balcony.
His hands trembled as he touched the centre of the steering wheel with his forehead. Sinclair took deep breaths. His cheeks glowed. He felt foolish for doubting James.
“What’s up with Quezada?” Sinclair called out of the window.
“We’ll talk about that,” James replied.
Sinclair got out of the car. He saw the bullet holes in the stone walls around the courtyard. As he blinked the sunlight out of his eyes, he noted the blood dripping from James’ nose and the scuffs on his clothes.
Jessi skulked out onto the balcony. Free of the same scars of battle, she wore the dirty streaks left by her tears.
“What happened?” asked Sinclair as James entered the courtyard.
“He escaped.”
Sinclair’s lips tightened. Blake would be furious.
“I killed his bodyguards.” James gestured at various parts of the hacienda. “The aunt is still alive, but we should clear the bodies. I don’t want to leave her here with a load of decaying Mexicans. She’s an old woman.”
Sinclair batted a hand at that. “Come on, what happened? With all due respect, I didn’t come down here to talk about cleaning. I thought you were dead. I was watching you from the hill. You both went inside and then I saw someone who wasn’t you leave.”
“I let him go,” said James.
Sinclair’s throat tightened. “What?”
“I let him go.”
“Why…?” Sinclair stuttered.
“Quezada had a gun to Jessi’s head, and he was going to kill her if I didn’t cooperate with him. I had no choice.”
He didn’t need to ask why that had happened. James had spent too long in the hacienda alone with Jessi. James had developed feelings for her.
“You bloody fool,” said Sinclair with venom. “You have as much money as you could ever want. You could have had anyone in this shithole of a country, and you decided to choose that. I expected better from you.”
James’ face dropped. “It’s not like that.”
“Oh please, how long have I known you? You should have killed him. We are not the police. We have no duty of care to anything but the contract.”
“It’s my problem, not yours.”
Sinclair slammed a fist against the body of the car. “Don’t you understand? I’m your intelligence on the ground. If you fail, I get an axe in my neck as much as you do. It’s not all about you.”
James drew himself up to his full height. “Will you let me explain before you jump to conclusions?”
Sinclair clenched his fist. He already knew what had happened. A bucket of nonsense would only delay him from alerting Blake and warning him that Quezada had escaped. This had thrown the whole assignment into turmoil.
“Please, Sinclair. This is about so much more than Jessi.”
Sinclair peered up at Jessi, who still leaned over the balcony. Her beauty only intensified the bitterness on the back of his tongue. He could see why mere mortals would have stumbled, but James wasn’t supposed to be a mere mortal.
“Fine. Explain.”
Sinclair and James stepped into the centre of the courtyard.
“Look, I want you to keep an open mind,” said James. “What I’m about to tell you might sound stupid, but I think we should give it some thought. Killing Quezada might not be the best thing, after all.”
Sinclair folded his arms. He had had doubts about killing Quezada too, ever since Blake had seemed to take a keen interest in this assignment. Professionalism had prevented him from questioning his mission brief, until now.
James gave him the details about the encounter with Quezada and the deal James had made with him. The explanation piqued Sinclair’s interest. It didn’t take him long to connect the dots between what Quezada had said and how Blake had acted since his arrival.
“I wish you hadn’t told me,” said Sinclair. “I wish you would have killed Quezada.”
“I know.” James paled. The dried blood around his mouth and nose stuck out like crimson oil paint. “I’m sorry. I should have taken the shot.” He looked back at Jessi and gave her a thin smile. “No matter the risk.”
Sinclair knew what this meant. If they took Quezada at his word, they would be acting against the terms of their mission. It would put them in direct conflict with Blake, and maybe even Gallagher. If that were true, they were done. Nobody got fired from Blackwind. They retired, died in the field, or were executed by their own comrades.
“I need to speak to Gallagher about this. He must make the decision, or we will be putting ourselves in a dangerous situation.”
“You can’t do that,” James snapped. “You know as well as I do that Gallagher wouldn’t understand. He’s probably in on this. Why else would he have sent Blake?”
Sinclair gulped. He saw James’ logic, but going rogue was against his natural instincts. Field agents got to be creative. People like him had to do things by the book.
“Please, Sinclair. Just this once support me in this. Let’s do what’s right.”
“James, we are not in the business of making the world a better place. We are guns for hire.”
“Just this once.”
Sinclair bit down on his tongue. “No, I won’t support you in this matter. But I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything. If you need anything from me, you can ask, but I will never ask the reason why.”
James looked disappointed but he nodded. It was all he would get.
The arrangement had precedent between them. James had taken unorthodox methods before to complete a contract and Sinclair had pretended like he didn’t know what was going on. The pair hadn’t received any blowback because the mission had always been a success.
“What about Blake and Gallagher?” asked James.
He took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I need to know Blake’s angle and what he’s doing. It’s not too late. The girl is safe. You could shoot Quezada tomorrow if you wanted.”
“I gave him my word. I intend to honour that word.”
Sinclair rolled his eyes. He’d never understood James’ odd moral compass. They’d worked together so long he’d learned not to argue with him about it. He would work around it, instead.
“James, we need to talk about one other thing before we go through with this.”
“What?”
“The girl.” Sinclair jabbed his head at Jessi. “She needs to go.”
Chapter Fifty
Miami, Florida, United States of America
Scott approached his boss as he lounged in his garden. The import-export magnate had seemed in a surprisingly good mood during their phone calls. He tucked an official-looking brown folder under his arm and made his way through the garden.
Romero drank pink grapefruit juice from a crystal cut glass, his sunglasses perched on the end of his nose.
“Mr. Romero, I’ve got what you wanted,” said Scott.
“Good,” Romero said without warmth. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Scott removed a docket from the folder and handed Romero everything he’d received from his contact about the senator and his business dealings. The research hadn’t taken much effort. George had never been the smartest senator in Congress and hadn’t covered his tracks very well.
“I should have known,” Romero smirked. “Phelps’ son didn’t take long to get involved.”
“Phelps is the only reason Black had the confidence to turn against you and put Governor Newton in prison. He was never what you would call brave.”
“If that’s what he wants, let him do it. We’ll crush them. Phelps has a name, but he doesn’t have power.”
“That will take months. Even I know special elections take time. We can get to Black before that happens.”
“And I’ve also found out what they’re up to.”
Romero flipped the front of the docket closed and balanced it on the corner of his table. “Good, this is why you’re worth every cent.”
Scott avoided Romero’s gaze as he gave a little nod of acknowledgement. “Sir, Phelps still has a lot of his father’s goodwill in Congress. You know, most of the party members there got their starts because of his father. They owe the family a lot and they’re going to repay it, even if it’s just for the cameras. I found out that they’re planning to push through a state of national emergency across the entire Gulf area.”
The jug of juice flew across the patio and smashed against the flowerpots. Soil spilt out across the pristine patio. Romero raged in Spanish, flinging all manner of curses.
Romero clutched the sides of his head and paced around the patio.
“I want them both dead. I want them dead now.”
“Sir, that would be a problem. It could incriminate you as the man behind his father’s death.”
“I don’t care,” he gesticulated. “I can’t let them move with impunity. They won’t work with me now after what we did. Kill them. Get it done.”
Scott gulped and bowed his head. As he moved his head, he clicked the button in his pocket to stop recording. He’d finally made his decision.
Chapter Fifty-One
Dolores Hidalgo, Guanajuato, Mexico
Fernando looked over his new lieutenants in a non-descript house in Dolores Hidalgo. Alex wasn’t among them. Fernando had made the difficult decision to freeze him out of his chain of command. Someone who demonstrated such weakness left him vulnerable.
A gathering of his favourites from the cartel leaned and lounged around the living room. A large TV showed a game of football on mute. Sunlight shined through the bars on the window and the slits in the cheap metal blinds.
“You all know why we’re here,” Fernando started. “Our organisation is changing. We can’t let Montoya win. He will move against us now. If we spend our time mourning those we’ve lost, we’ll lose everything.”
“Not everyone is going to support your claim,” said Pedro Costilla, his new righthand man.
Fernando stared at Pedro Costilla. He’d employed Pedro for his intelligence and his wit, rather than his brutality. He had the look of a ranchero about him. His wrinkled eyes and cheeks that resembled instant coffee powder meant people underestimated him. Unlike many of his allies, Pedro could blend in with a crowd.
“Then they’ll die too. They’ll see the future. We are the future.”
The narcos nodded along with him. He didn’t expect cheering crowds or profusions of loyalty, only that they did as ordered.
“If anyone wants to leave now, they can,” said Fernando in a threatening tone.
Nobody moved.
“Martin will give you your orders.” He gestured to the man in sunglasses on his left. “Don’t waste any time mourning our leader. He wouldn’t have wanted us to risk Santa Maria for anything.”
Fernando strode into the kitchen as his phone rang and the chatter kicked up again. Pedro shadowed him. They’d entered the cartel at almost the same time. Both had risen, but Fernando had risen faster. They weren’t friends but they respected each other.
He picked out his phone to find Blake’s number staring back at him. It must be the confirmation.
“Yes?”
“We have a problem,” said Blake. “Quezada is alive.”
Fernando clutched the phone to his ear. “What?”
“According to my man, Quezada managed to escape. He still leads your cartel.”
Fear, cold and chilling, shot through every inch of his body. Far from wrestling control of a leaderless ship, this meeting had now become an act of rebellion. It wouldn’t take long for Quezada to find out.
“Are you still there?” asked Blake.
“Yes, yes.”
“There’s no going back now. Take control. It’s all about momentum. Whether he’s alive or not, you become leader or you die.”
Fernando couldn’t deny the logic. Cartels had no tolerance for betrayal. Traitors were rarely killed cleanly but through torture. It wasn’t uncommon for their families to turn up dead as well. He wouldn’t go out like that after struggling for so long.
He glanced at Pedro just a few feet away. “Can you help with that?”
“No. I’ve done enough. It’s not my place to interfere directly. You want it so badly, you take it.”
“You need me.”
Blake raised his voice. “I don’t need you for nothing, remember that. Our partnership is convenient, but I’ll sell you down the river without thinking twice about it. You want it, you take it. Quezada escaped from his aunt’s hacienda in Yuriria. That’s all you need to know.”
Fernando didn’t have a chance to reply as Blake hung up the phone. He had to kill Quezada himself before he made his presence known. But telling his loyalists might risk them turning back to Quezada. They all believed he’d died in that hacienda.
“What’s wrong?” asked Pedro.
He wrestled with what to do next. His life, and the lives of his loved ones, hung by a thread. Fernando believed in his own strength, but he couldn’t do this alone. The risk was too high.
“Can you keep a secret, Pedro?”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Guanajuato, Guanajuato, Mexico
James returned to Guanajuato with a sickening feeling in his stomach. The newspapers told the tale of a war he started. The violence had escalated to unimaginable levels throughout Guanajuato. Mass shootings had become commonplace. Journalists were dying. Innocents lay dead in shallow graves. Nobody could keep up with violence.
Early one morning, James found himself standing at his window looking out over the city. The lights of Guanajuato twinkled below and up the sides of the valley. He held his phone to his ear, speaking in a low staccato.
“This is a war I started,” said James. “I should have never allowed Quezada to go.”
“It’s not your fault,” replied Sinclair. “Fernando Gomez is claiming Quezada’s place. It’s a bloodbath. The papers only report on a fraction of the incidents. My sources say the bodies are piling up. They turned up another mass grave outside Dolores Hidalgo.”
James clenched his fist. “Have you spoken to Blake?”
“Not yet. He would only deny it. But now it all makes sense. He wants Quezada and his cartel destroyed. He’s looking after the interests of the client.”
He gulped. Everything that had passed between them had all started to connect. His hunch flashed like an alarm.
“So, Romero…”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” James breathed.
“I believe I am.”
“Roberto Romero isn’t just another drug smuggler. He’s the client. He hired Blackwind to begin with…”
“And Blake’s here to make sure everything happens as Romero wants it. That’s why he’s been so secretive. That’s why Gallagher hasn’t said a thing about who the client is. This is dirty, James, really dirty.”
He paced around the bare living area. The truth had always felt just out of reach, like they were missing something. Quezada was right. Romero was the greatest threat Mexico had faced in decades. The puppet master pulling the strings from Florida.
“I’m being played for a fool,” he said at last.
“We all are. Blake never went rogue or turned traitor. He was doing exactly what he was ordered to do. Romero wants the cartels to tear each other apart. That way he’s dealing with lots of small cartels and then
he dictates the price. If he has control over smuggling routes to the US, he has no rival.”
James cursed under his breath. “What do we do now?”
“We have to move fast. If we stay quiet, we can claim ignorance. Gallagher couldn’t criticise us for killing a client if he believed we never knew who the client was to begin with.”
He grabbed a tuft of his ebony hair in despair. “Where’s Blake?”
“No, James, don’t do it. Let him think he’s won. Plead ignorance because when this is all over, we’re going to have to explain ourselves. Don’t give Blake and Gallagher anything to work with.”
“Alright. You’re right. When can we get to Romero?”
“Romero is in Miami. I can get you the usual clearances to give you a new identity to get through US immigration. That won’t be a problem at all. From there, we are on our own.”
“I want it done as soon as possible. But we need to finish our business in Mexico first. Quezada has to die.”
“I told you,” James snapped. “I will not make this country worse than it is.”
“Your contract is to –”
“I know what the bloody contract is.” He vibrated with anger. “But that doesn’t mean I have to make the country worse than it already is. Killing Quezada after what we know will just play into Romero’s hands.”
A long pause settled between them.
Sinclair sighed over the line. “Not if we kill them both quickly. That way, nobody wins.”
“Alright, fine. Quezada believes I’ll honour my word. Romero first.”
“Romero first? Why?”
James smirked. “Because if Blake is working to destroy Santa Maria de Guadalupe by raising Fernando Gomez, that can only mean he’s going to have Quezada killed himself. We were brought in just to soften them up. Blake was brought in to take the glory of the kill. That’s always been his M.O.”
“That… that’s brilliant. Of course, Fernando couldn’t have done this on his own. That’s the real reason Blake was called in. Have you ever considered a career in intelligence?”