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

Prahn pointed a pistol at James’ head and spoke rapid Khmer.

“He kill your friend,” Rith translated. “He shoot him. Let us go.”

Prahn released his hard grip, giving James the chance to breathe. He gulped in the oxygen like a starving man in front of a feast.

Blake smiled in amusement. “You tell Uncle Prahn that he’s not my friend and I’m going to shoot him, and you, the moment he fires that gun.”

“Fuck you!” James forced from the depths of his throat.

Rith duly translated what the two foreigners said. James felt Prahn’s body tighten against him. He couldn’t tell whether Prahn was bluffing or not. He didn’t want to find out.

“Rith, Rith, Rith, it’s a shame it had to come to this.”

Blake fired the gun at point-blank range into the outstretched leg of Rith. The Khmer screamed and Prahn jumped in surprise.

Rith writhed on the ground, gripping his stricken leg.

“Did you think I was messing around?” Blake raised his voice. “Get your ass up, Rith. You gotta translate or your uncle won’t understand a damn thing.”

Through tears and moans, Rith translated to his uncle.

Prahn didn’t react.

James took in another deep gasp, not knowing when he might get another.

“You see, the only reason I shot him in the leg is that I need him to translate.” Blake threw a glare at the family. “I don’t need them.”

Rith translated again and Prahn spoke back.

“Then your friend die. He kill your friend.”

Blake had a good chuckle at that. “Kill him, you’ll die afterwards. Look at your leg. You’ve already been shot once. You wouldn’t stand a chance against me. And what are they going to do when Uncle Prahn is gone?”

Rith translated but Prahn didn’t respond. A long silence settled between them until Blake pointed his gun at one of the young children. The Khmer cried out like wounded animals.

Blake paused. “Something to say?”

James’ shallow breaths came quicker and sharper. Blake wasn’t going to save him. He would let him die. Blake didn’t care either way. James tried to twist away from Prahn’s loosened grip. He managed to drag Prahn to the side.

Blake fired. Prahn fell away from him. He hit the ground. Dead.

Above the anguished screams of the family and the tears, James felt numb. The shock plastered on Prahn’s face for eternity revealed one pertinent fact. They had failed their mission.

“What the fuck have you done?” James’ words slid out like ice as he stepped over the family now crowding around their beloved uncle. “You stupid Yankee Doodle shit.”

Blake looked hurt. “I just saved your life. He was going to kill you.”

“I thought you were going to shoot him in the leg,” James roared. “Not the neck.”

“You shouldn’t have started fighting and given me the shot then.”

Blake’s reserved reaction infuriated James. How could he not realise what he’d done? They would never find the leader of the Khmer Rouge now. Prak would hunker down in the mountains he knew so well and that would be the end of it.

“Don’t you understand what you’ve done?” James gestured at the body. “We were supposed to take him alive. Didn’t anyone tell you that or were you too busy combing your hair?”

“Shit happens. There’s always another option. It’s not like we weren’t gonna kill him anyway, sooner or later.”

James threw his hands on his head and walked out of the hut. He had to get away from Blake before he lost his temper. He had to think. James felt like his soul had departed the world leaving only an emotionless husk. Even his shoulder no longer bothered him.

He kept moving away from the light until he re-entered the darkness. Away from the visible trappings of humanity, James dwelled on just how badly they had messed this up.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The sun rose over the Sambath farm, kissing the trampled crops and the dead men with a warm sunflower yellow. Long shadows threw themselves from the Palmyras. The scene left Dylan speechless.

They’d heard the gunshots during the night. As he inspected the farm with Adam, he crept softly, like he might rouse the dead.

“Oh my gosh,” said Dylan. “That’s what it was about. They were here. Blackwind was here. Look at these guys.”

The corpses pockmarked the fields. Vermin hadn’t yet come to claim their meal. Each husk served as a grizzly waypoint as they made their way to the collection of ramshackle dwellings.

“We should have done something. We should have gone in there and helped.”

“Dylan, will you stop with the bellyaching for five minutes? It’s not doing us any good. It wasn’t our place to go in there. We don’t even know how things played out.”

“It must have been Blackwind.”

“No, really?” Adam’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “That’s obvious now, but we didn’t know that before.”

“Maybe the Khmer Rouge won,” Dylan ventured.

Adam threw a bewildered look at him.

“No, no, you’re right. Sorry.”

Dylan cursed himself for even considering the idea that a bunch of farmers could have slain a cohort of highly trained mercenaries with the latest equipment. Clearly, Blackwind had massacred everyone.

“Let’s hope Sambath managed to get away,” said Adam as they reached the bottom of the little hill. “Fen wants Prak and we can’t get to him if we can’t put a tail on Sambath.”

“Why doesn’t Fen just ask? Surely he would want to work with someone like that, based on his plans?”

“Fen probably is doing business with the Khmer Rouge in the mountains, but you have to understand their ideology. Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge was isolationist. When they took over in the 1970s they effectively sealed the country off. If they’re working with Fen – and I assume they are – it’s an alliance of convenience.”

“I