Failed State (A James Winchester Thriller Book 1) (James Winchester Series) - James Samuel (top novels of all time .txt) 📗

Montoya didn’t seem that sad about it at all as he waved his hand dismissively. “I have five sisters. It’s a matter of honour, not the person. Jessi is sweet and innocent. She is not part of my operations. Quezada broke the rules when he took her. We wouldn’t kill his mother, yet he takes my sister, who has nothing to do with the business, you understand?”

“We understand,” said Sinclair. “I should tell you, Blackwind will do whatever it takes to get the job done. Our organisation has never been one for convention or for specific rules of engagement.”

Montoya raised his eyebrows and nodded his head. He looked impressed.

“Francisco, tell Ramon outside to get everything we know on Jessi.”

Francisco bowed his head again and departed. He closed the door with as much care as a burglar in the night.

“Will she still be alive?” asked James.

He saw Sinclair stiffen in his peripheral vision.

Montoya’s countenance darkened at the thought. “I hope so. No, I know so. We Mexicans understand what honour is, most of us at least. Quezada is a rat but he’s not stupid. He knows that as long as he has my sister, he keeps me trapped. He stops me from launching an assault against him. We have friends in Michoacán who are ready to support us. The Jalisco cartel doesn’t like him either. But I can’t attack because I know he will kill my sister. It would dishonour me. Make me look weak.”

James tried his best to understand the logic behind it. He understood honour, but if Montoya couldn’t care less about one of his five sisters being taken, why did it matter if she lived or died?

“But if we can rescue her out from under his nose…” said Sinclair.

“Exactly. If he loses his hostage, he will die. Quezada has few friends. He knows it. Other cartels would love to see him hanging from a bridge in León or Celaya.”

Francisco returned with a manila folder. He flipped open the cover and retrieved a file similar to those used by police investigators.

Montoya took the file from him and began to recount the details, “Jessi was taken from León after she’d eaten dinner with her friends two weeks ago. The restaurant is on the outskirts of the city, called Yolanda’s Roadside Café. Nothing fancy. I always told her never to draw attention to herself.”

“Any further sightings?” asked James.

“We got the license plate of the car. It was driven to just outside of Dolores Hidalgo and found burning. As I said, these people are smart.” Montoya raised his finger. “But one thing all narcos have in common is we steal from each other. I know that Quezada’s men won’t have gotten far. There are only so many places he can go.”

“So, Dolores Hidalgo and the area around there would be the place to start?”

“Yes, Mr. Winchester. We couldn’t go any further because that’s Quezada’s territory. It would be too dangerous, but two tourists wouldn’t look so strange. People visit Dolores when they stay in Guanajuato.”

“Thank you,” said James.

Already, James had a kaleidoscope of schemes racing through his head. The wheels had started to turn. He’d never visited the city of Dolores Hidalgo. His time in Mexico had been characterised by his reclusive nature. James ventured outside as little as possible if he could help it. A lot of his enemies would never stop hunting him.

“Rescue my sister and kill Quezada, and I’ll be always in your debt, my friends,” said Montoya. “You’ll always be able to call on La Familia if you need help in Mexico.”

Sinclair thanked Montoya for his help and patronage and a round of handshakes followed. Francisco escorted them out of the office without a word. He seemed dazzled by the divine presence of his boss.

Despite how well the meeting had gone, James realised the easy part of making friends with Quezada’s enemies was over. Now, they had a mountain to climb.

Chapter Eight

Guanajuato, Guanajuato, Mexico

Francisco dropped them off at the bus station and they made their way back to Guanajuato City. James didn’t speak much on the journey home. Now he had a clear path towards finding Quezada, his mind concocted all sorts of schemes to complete the contract and stop this drug war from getting out of control.

“You never did tell me why Blackwind wants Quezada so much,” James said after they got off in Guanajuato.

Sinclair rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “They didn’t tell me anything as to why. We don’t ask questions of the client. Only Gallagher knows the real reasons.”

Joseph Cecil Gallagher ran Blackwind behind the scenes. Although they had someone else run the private military organisation’s public face, Gallagher pulled all the strings. He rarely made himself available and spoke to his mercenaries as a faceless voice. James had only met him in person once when he joined straight out of the army.

“I was thinking about it on the bus. It just seems strange.”

Sinclair sighed. “You really need to keep your focus on the mission.”

“Could it be a job issued by another cartel, or worse, the Mexican government?”

“It could be all of those things,” Sinclair replied curtly. “It could be none of those things, but that’s not our job. I received orders and we are bound to carry them out. We have our contract, and we can complete it in any way we like, just as long as the final result comes in. Now focus.”

Realising he wouldn’t get anything out of Sinclair, James dropped the subject.

“Coffee?” Sinclair asked.

“Alright.”

They walked through the bus terminal, passing a long row of ticket booths dominating the back wall, one for each of the bus companies. The times of departures were all stuck on the walls behind the bored-looking men and women in