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

“I’m all ears, George.”

“We made contact with a man named Emilio Lopez Cazalla, the main man in foreign policy in Mexico. He’s willing to work with us. And you can’t get much higher up than that without having dinner with the president himself.”

Governor Newton smiled, his plastic-like face barely wrinkling. “So, what are you going to need from me?”

“Nothing for now. Everything is under control. With our friend Mr. Romero cooperating, it gives us control of the supply of both drugs and firearms in Florida. You just need to keep law enforcement off our backs. Meanwhile, I’ll be in Washington, making sure people are talking about something else.”

Newton laughed. “Wonderful. That should do just fine. So, we’ll have the cooperation of the Mexican government?”

“Their full cooperation. We can flood the country with firearms, keep the drug war going, and rake a sweet little profit from the whole thing. The best part is we never have to get our hands dirty. You get those wetback types who can do all the work for us and take all the risk.”

“My, you have been busy. Very busy.”

Jack leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs out, and put his hands in his trouser pockets. He switched off the little recorder hidden underneath his clothes.

Chapter Seventeen

León, Guanajuato, Mexico

León and Guanajuato City constantly fought each other for supremacy of the state. Guanajuato claimed the historical connection and León the modern, industrial powerhouse. Even today, the state governor split his time between León and Guanajuato to appease both sides.

James and Diego made the thirty-minute drive straight down the highway to León. La Espadaña sat close to the central plaza. James took out the police mugshot of Alex that Sinclair had kindly lifted from the Federal police computers. He agreed with Rosher, Alex looked like a nasty man. The tattoos on his neck resembled chains wrapping around his windpipe.

“Have you ever heard of this man?” James placed the mugshot on the dashboard.

“Not really. Santa Maria de Guadalupe is new in the area. They’re just one of the cartels that split off from bigger ones. Still, I don’t think Parejo will be a difficult man to find.” Diego flicked a finger at the mugshot. “I mean, look at him.”

The central plaza of León had many similarities with that of Guanajuato’s. Colourful buildings ringed the plaza and an enormous gazebo sat in the centre. Mexicans young and old lounged on the green metal benches, smoking, chatting, and watching the world go by. Diego pulled up outside of a café and parked the car.

“Are you sure you can park here?” asked James. “I don’t want any trouble if we need to run.”

“The police know my car. They won’t touch it if they want a job when the sun rises.”

James and Diego hitched up their pants and walked into the early evening air toward La Espadaña a few blocks away. The sun released its final blaze of heat, warming the backs of their necks. A few people eyed the expensive car, but a quick glare from Diego turned them away.

An enormous stone gate topped with a single lion marked the entrance to the city’s historical centre. They waited for a break in the traffic, as a couple of tourists posed in front of the memorial arc, the symbol of León.

“Rosher better be right about this,” said James as they crossed the street side by side. “I showed him mercy because I felt sorry for the man, but if he lied to us then I’m not giving him a second chance.”

“You’ll have to get in line for that. I considered beating him when we kidnapped him.” Diego raised his hand to stop an oncoming car. “Either way, we can’t hold him for too long. The whole state is searching for Rosher. His face is in all the papers. Sooner or later, they’ll find out where he is.”

They continued breaking through clusters of pedestrians until they came to La Espadaña, the modern restaurant with floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows. A few unoccupied tables sat outside on the patio. It seemed like any ordinary restaurant, rather than a narco hangout.

“How do we know he’s in there?” James paused on the other side of the street to get the lay of the land. “We can’t just walk in and hope he’s there.”

Diego clicked his tongue. “You should stay here. We don’t want a gringo attracting the attention of every table. I’ll go in and see who’s there.”

James leaned against the wall of a low, colourful building and pulled out his packet of cigarettes. He watched as Diego pushed himself against the restaurant door. The door didn’t open. A waiter dressed in a crisp white shirt came to the door and spoke to Diego, who retreated from the restaurant.

“What’s wrong?” James took a long drag on his cigarette. “Are they closed?”

“Only to us they are.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The narcos have taken over the restaurant. Didn’t you ever hear how narcos go out to dinner? Lieutenants and the rest of them walk into a restaurant, hand hundreds of dollars to the staff, pay for everyone’s dinner, and then lock the doors until they’re finished. Anyone who’s in there has to stay until the narcos are done with their meal.”

James’ eyes widened. “Sounds like a good deal if you’re in there at the right time.”

Diego smirked. “Sure, as long as you don’t mind being a sitting duck. They do that for their own protection. If another cartel decides to roll up on you, you’re going to get caught in the crossfire. Let me bring the car around.”

James opened his mouth to ask another question, but Diego jogged away. He shook his head, wondering what Diego had in mind. His