Interdiction (A James Winchester Thriller Book 3) (James Winchester Series) - James Samuel (best memoirs of all time .TXT) 📗

“Perhaps,” said James. “Or perhaps not. But I suppose that wouldn’t directly impact you. What we want to know is your assessment of the situation. What do you think should be done?”

“Are you asking me what Serbia would do in the event of a civil war?”

James shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Oh, Mr. Winchester, we think practically not emotionally. You may hear the calls of the ordinary people. Many of them want to finish what was started in the last days of Yugoslavia. Serbia itself, we have no interest in intervention.”

James tilted his head. That’s not what he’d heard so far. Not that he expected Plemenac to tell the truth anyway.

Plemenac crossed one leg over the other. “We live in a world different from the one that existed during the last war. I can tell you exactly what would happen in the event of war. Firstly, the Serbian Army would defeat any force in Bosnia. That is a certainty. It might take some time, but the result is undeniable. However, the problem Serbia would have is the United Nations, NATO, and the European Union. Intervention would be inevitable, as it was last time. We could not hope to win.”

“Interesting,” said James.

Sinclair’s fingers dug into his thighs. James could see the steam rushing out of his friend’s ears.

“And if, for example,” said James, “a war did begin within Bosnia, what do you think, for argument’s sake, Serbia would do? More importantly, what would you do?”

Plemenac remained impassive. “Who can say? There are so many factors that it would be impossible to give you an answer. Who’s to say there would be a war? Kadrić’s position is hardly a solid one.”

James exchanged a glance with Sinclair. Did it make sense to continue hiding their purpose when Plemenac could see right through them?

“Very well.” Sinclair leaned forwards. “Sadik Kadrić is our target. He’s going to die within the next few weeks. Any plans he’s made will come crumbling down. Since you seem to know already, now I’m curious as to how.”

James’ eyes widened in surprise at Sinclair’s sudden lack of discretion.

“It’s quite simple if you think about it logically. The tensions of the region are no secret. The extremism of both sides is also no secret. The murders throughout Bosnia were clearly committed by nationalist elements from Srpska. Yet the response is the sudden death of Tomislav Suput.” Plemenac shrugged. “Unless a new group has arisen without my knowledge, then it must have been committed by an outsider. Days later I’m sitting in a café in Banja Luka with two interested Englishmen. Quite coincidental, one might say. Would that be a logical assessment, Sinclair?”

Sinclair nodded. “I suppose it would.”

Plemenac finished the remainder of his coffee and smacked his lips. “Anyway, gentlemen, I’m afraid I have an appointment. I’m desperately sorry I couldn’t have been of more help to you.” He stood and reached for his long winter coat. “But do stay in touch. Maybe we can help each other.”

James and Sinclair watched Plemenac leave Kafana and disappear past the windows. James ruminated in silence over the conversation that had just transpired. Plemenac knew more about them and their mission than he should. He’d slipped up in just one area, revealing a personal interest in Serbia and war that should never have been there.

Sinclair leaned back in the high-backed wooden chair, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Sorry,” James said at last. “I did try.”

The intelligence agent shook his head back at him. “No. You were splendid.”

James cocked an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. You made him reveal part of his hand. Far more than we would have got out of him by playing nice. He started off with the neutral ground, but he said more than he wanted to say.”

James took his first sip of the Cockta. It really did taste like cola.

“What I want to know is why he’s taking the side of these people. There’s nothing to gain from it. As he said, Western countries would intervene if Serbia put a toenail over the border. The UN never left Bosnia for that reason.”

“Covert support, maybe?” James took another gulp of his drink.

“That’s possible. Kadrić’s group must be getting their weapons from somewhere. Normally, these nationalist groups aren’t this brave. Something is giving them confidence, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Plemenac is one of the reasons for that.”

“Would it make sense to deal with him?”

Sinclair shook his head. “Not yet. He might be more valuable to us alive.”

“For now, at least.”

Sinclair whipped out his smartphone and began furiously typing. His thick fingers tap danced across the well-worn screen.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m telling Gallagher. Plemenac is still an ambassador. We’ll need authorisation from him personally if the time comes. I’ll also tell Finch to stay on him. In the meantime, I want you to consider Plemenac an active player… just don’t kill him. Gallagher already suspects you were behind the Suput killing.”

James stretched his back and folded his arms. The web grew more complex. If he didn’t get a move on, Kadrić and Plemenac could be the flint that set the tinderbox of Europe aflame once again.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sarajevo, Sarajevo Canton, Bosnia and Herzegovina

The snow had returned to Sarajevo. White waterfalls appeared to fall from the hilltops surrounding the city. Great flakes smacked the unfortunate souls of the city in the face. James wiped an unfortunate snowflake lodged on the edge of his near frozen eyelashes with a gloved finger.

James and Sinclair stepped backwards as tyres screeched and Kemal’s car halted outside the Hotel Old Town. He watched Kemal’s immense body bounce in the seat as he broke hard.

“James, Sinclair, my friends. I need to speak with you.”

“What’s the rush? We were going to see your son. He wanted to speak to us,” said James.

“No