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

A long pause followed.

“Mr. Fen?”

“This is a curious development.” Shao’s voice slid through the phone like ice. “A curious development indeed. Either way, follow him. Do not intervene under any circumstances. We must find where Prak is hiding. Once you are sure you have found Prak, only then, you may kill him.”

“Yes, Mr. Fen.”

“Good.”

The line went dead, and Dylan took a deep breath. Adam shifted through the gears as they kept pace with Prahn on the horizon.

“This isn’t right,” said Dylan. “He’s moving like someone’s chasing him.”

“Someone is chasing him.”

“You know what I mean. Shao Fen ordered us to stay back. Without him, we don’t stand a chance of finding Prak. He’s the only one we know of who knows where Prak is.”

“We won’t be getting our hands dirty just yet. It’s not the first time I’ve tracked a man across a country. Something’s gotten to him.”

“What do you think it is?”

Adam shrugged as he cranked on the gear stick again. “God knows, but if I had to guess I’d say it’s either something to do with family or something big has happened within the Khmer Rouge. One way or another, all’s not well.”

Prak’s Camry continued to overtake trucks and buses at speed. One wrong move would send the car flying through the air. As they crashed over the potholes and enormous cracks as black as night, Dylan knew they were in for a bumpy day.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kampot, Kampot Province, Cambodia

The first watch passed without incident. In the Cambodian countryside, the sunset managed to struggle through the relentless dust that knifed through the heart of Kampot. The tall palmyras became silhouettes as the sun hung low and Blake emerged from the hut, roused by the alarm on his phone.

“It’s a nice sunset,” said James.

Blake barely glanced at it. “Sure, it’s something. You can get some rest now. Make sure you set your alarm.”

James got up from the stool he’d managed to scrounge from another hut. He stretched his creaking joints and glanced back at the family again. The women and children slept in fits. Rith hadn’t closed his eyes for a second. In the darkening light of the hut, the whites of his eyes never left James. He could feel the fury bubbling beneath Rith.

“Watch him,” said James. “When Prahn comes, expect him to fight.”

Blake took a long look at Rith. He saw it too. The young man wanted just a chance to take a shot at them. If he managed to grasp a weapon, no matter how rudimentary, he would fight tooth and nail.

“Good thing I brought these then.” Blake took some cable ties out of his pocket. “Just in case any of them want to make trouble.”

Rith didn’t react to the appearance of the cable ties. He just glared with undisguised hatred at the American.

“Get down on your front, boy,” Blake commanded.

Rith didn’t move.

“You want to feel what it’s like to be in America, you better get used to this. The small-town cops are going to love you.” Blake approached Rith and seized him by the back of the head, forcing him down onto his front. “You’re a strong one, ain’t you?”

“Just do it,” said James. “We don’t need any speeches.”

“I’m just playing with him.” Blake patted Rith on the head. “He wouldn’t need to be tied at all if he just played nice.”

James watched in silence as Blake attached the cable ties to Rith’s wrists. The plastic could cut into the skin leaving angry red marks that wouldn’t dissipate for weeks. To his relief, Blake didn’t tighten them fully.

“I’ll tighten them more if you don’t play nice.” Blake hauled Rith back into a sitting position again. “Just remember, we’re being nice to you. It’ll get a lot worse if you try anything.”

James left the hut just as Blake took up position on the low stool. Outside, the mosquitoes whined, lightly touching him on the side of his face. The swarm had arrived, and they’d already started to probe the white flesh. A rare change of menu for pests in this part of the country.

By now, the sun had half-dipped under the horizon, the burning light growing in its intensity. James had a strange feeling about the way the sun glowed. Splotches of blood painted the sky. Was it an omen for what was to come on this night? He hoped he would live to see the morning.

James took out his phone and called Sinclair on speed dial.

Sinclair picked up before the second tone. “What’s going on? You haven’t called me all day.”

“We’re with the family in Kampot. We had to take them hostage to get them to call Prahn and bring him here.”

“I see,” Sinclair said matter-of-factly. “Did you hurt any of them?”

“No, but we had to tie the boy up. He’s been staring at me all afternoon. I can see it in his eyes that he wants to do something. We can’t take that risk. Did HQ find out anything about Prahn?”

“Yes. They managed to get some sources in Cambodia. Prahn has been seen making regular stops in Kampot. He’s quite well-known in the town.”

“Ah, so he won’t have far to come then?”

“Not necessarily. Like the rest of the Khmer Rouge remnants, he spends most of his time in the mountains and the forests. But you can guarantee that after hearing about his family, he will be moving as fast as he can.”

James nodded along as the sky began to darken, releasing its final flourish of colour as the sun disappeared and the mosquitoes closed in around him. He batted at a particularly large mosquito buzzing across his field of vision.

“Be careful, James. Based on what I have from HQ, Prahn is not going to come alone. Expect him to