Overthrow (A James Winchester Thriller Book 2) (James Winchester Series) by James Samuel (psychology books to read txt) 📗

The bar’s tables were lit under a roof of purple neon, glowing like a colony of sick glow worms. Sinclair sat down at a high round table. Seconds later, a waiter in a black shirt appeared.

James tried to give Sinclair a reassuring smile. Even if Sinclair didn’t trust Nhek, he did and that’s all that mattered.

“I want you to be waiting for me,” said James. “I don’t know if I’ll be coming out of the front door or from around the corner.”

“I see everything, Mr. James.”

That warm glow instilled him with confidence as he turned away from the sulking Sinclair and the eternal optimist to face The Palace. He had everything he needed.

James had dressed well and had even worn a gold wristwatch to complete the look. Men like Mr. Chea were attracted to overt displays of wealth. It evaporated all other senses and rational thought. He jogged up the few steps to the raised altar that was the jewel in the prostitution crown of Phnom Penh.

Anyone could enter. The bar downstairs was tastefully decorated with metal chairs and tables that never wobbled. The same garish neon lighting – this time in yellow – illuminated the downstairs. James scanned the area.

Among the usual array of foreigners, he found the security guards scattered in the shadows. They were fat Khmer in dark clothing leaning against the walls smoking cigarettes. They tried their best to seem like ordinary patrons.

James went to the bar and sat on one of the stools. He motioned to the barman for a beer, and he placed a sweating bottle of Angkor beer, the local brew, in front of him. A handkerchief strategically placed underneath caught the pooling moisture.

He sucked on his beer for a few minutes as he watched the movements of the staff. The way the security guards carried themselves gave him some confidence. The patrons didn’t give them trouble very often he assumed.

“Alright? Haven’t seen you around here before.” An older Englishman perched himself on the bar next to him like a vulture. “This your first time?” he asked.

James put on a smile, knowing full well why the old man had come. “Yes, it is.”

He flashed his decaying teeth. The straggly pieces of hair he had left hung like corpses, touching his shoulders. “Another Englishman. Could smell you a mile off. You’ve picked the right place here. I’ve been coming to The Palace for years.”

“Really?” James sipped at his beer again. “Do you live here?”

He scoffed. “I wish. The wife only lets me get away twice a year. She goes away with her friends to shop, and I get to come here.” He gave a sadistic wink. “What happens in Phnom Penh stay in Phnom Penh.”

James gave him a polite smile and angled his head away, trying to detach himself from his seedy friend.

“Oi, if this is your first time here, you must have known about these streets to find this place.”

“I’ve heard things, yes.”

“Good, good, my name’s Mike. If you need someone to give you a look, you can get it with me. The manager has been the same one since I started coming here ten years ago. A good man.”

“I’m John,” James said, not wanting Mike to remember him later. “That’s good. Well, you know why I’m here.”

“Finish your beer,” Mike jabbed the neck of his bottle at his. “Best to get in early before all the good ones are taken.”

James didn’t argue and downed the rest of the Angkor. The lager was little better than the cheapest stuff you could buy in Europe, but it sufficed. He licked away the bitter taste.

“This’ll be the best place you’ll ever find.” Mike lowered his voice. “You know, if you’ve got the money, you can find more than women here.”

James did his best to avoid choking. Mike’s breath smelled like curdled milk. “Tell me more.”

“If you want – you know – something younger, you can find it here. Bora can get you something good. I can walk you through it since it’s your first time.”

James agreed. Every instinct cried out against the abomination that was Mike.

Mike motioned at the barman and ordered him to fetch Bora. The manager of The Palace appeared wearing a blue-grey suit with the top of his pristine white shirt unbuttoned. He had what passed for a military buzzcut and a stern, untrusting expression on his lips.

“Bora, this is my new friend. It’s his first time, and we were wondering if you could take us to the top floor.” Mike released that insidious wink again. “He’s got money.”

“Okay,” said Bora. “Follow me.”

Mike touched him lightly on the back for him to follow the manager. James didn’t get the impression Bora cared much for Mike’s patronage. Nevertheless, Bora cleared a path through the crowded bar until they came to the metal door leading upstairs.

He wanted to stop and walk away, but he couldn’t. A sense of foreboding washed over him. James wasn’t sure he could confront the sick horrors of what went on in these isolated suites.

Chapter Ten

Bora led them through the door to a set of steps that swept backwards and forwards. They were covered in a soiled red carpet. Try as they might, The Palace looked as seedy as ever even on the so-called ‘exclusive’ floors.

“You’re really going to enjoy this. It’ll be nothing like you’ve experienced before,” Mike continued to chatter away. “It’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”

James paid him no mind as he focused on the different ways he could throttle Mr. Chea for creating this festering fleshpot.

Bora led them to a reception area on the top floor. It had the look of a tacky Chinese restaurant. An obese man breathed onto his laptop keyboard like he’d just returned from jogging. The Khmer’s fatty eyelids were almost squeezed shut.

Bora