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

hurt by the admission. "I'm not going to let the White Rose become just another nationalist organisation. I made a promise to everyone who joined it that I would never let that happen. You're not the only one who joined it, Nazifa, remember that."

Nazifa snapped to her feet. "Then maybe the White Rose is not the place for me. I'm sorry, Ratko, but it's not in my heart anymore."

Ratko nodded, but Kemal sensed the hurt washing over his son. He could always tell what Ratko was thinking. In many ways, they shared the same personalities, if not the same methods.

"Sit down, Nazifa," said Kemal. "We should talk. Talk more, eh?"

Nazifa's large combat boots scuffed against the floorboards. She threw her hands up and sat down again.

"Ratko," Kemal began. "In war, you need to adapt to the situation. You need to change."

"If you're seriously suggesting I compromise my beliefs to win, then there's no reason for us to talk about this, Father."

Kemal sighed. "Then there's nothing you can do. Peace is not an option now."

"That's the thinking that got us into this war in the first place."

"I go." He patted his son on the shoulder. "Good luck."

"I'm going with you." Nazifa shook her head. "I agree with you. You tried peace. It hasn't worked. James will know what to do."

Kemal maintained a steely expression, unwilling to let himself show weakness now. They'd already crossed the Rubicon. As much as he hated to see his son, his head in his hands, a glassy eyed look on his face, in total defeat, his country needed him more.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

James sat in the stolen car in a quiet street of Sarajevo. The blood had long since dried on his shirt and on the backseat. His hands still bore Croatian blood, his empty gun lying on the floor below. He stared at his phone, multiple missed calls from both Kemal and Gallagher. How could a simple meeting have gone so wrong? This changed everything. Now, more than ever, James couldn't waste any more time.

He picked up the phone. First, he would deal with Gallagher. He didn't have the heart to confront Kemal just yet. If Kemal had set them up, he would have no choice but to slay him.

"Winchester, what the hell have you done?" Gallagher's voice thundered down the phone.

"We were ambushed in Mostar by Jakov Mlakar's men." His own voice emerged steady, flecked with ice. "I was able to fight them off. Sinclair was hit in the leg. I took him to a hospital in Sarajevo. The wound isn't life threatening. He should be discharged in a few days as good as new."

"Was Mlakar working with Kadrić? I need details so I can decide how to proceed, Winchester."

"We disagreed on some key issues. He refused to support us. I will deal with Mlakar in good time."

"No," Gallagher snapped. "You will not. Your mission is to kill Kadrić and nothing more. I will decide –"

"You will not decide," James said through gritted teeth. "This is my operation. You owe me, Gallagher."

"Owe you? I gave you a well-paying job when you were discharged from the army in disgrace. You could have been like thousands of other ex-army, living in some god-awful little council flat still dreaming about everything you went through. I saved you."

"Saved me? Saved me for what? To pick off people who may or may not have deserved it?" He hesitated for a moment. "You owe me because I know you tried to have me killed in Cambodia. That was the only reason Blake was deployed there."

The seconds passed. James listened to Gallagher's heavy breathing. Did he really think he was stupid enough not to know?

"How?"

James' mouth dropped open. He didn't even have the decency to deny it. "I heard your call with Blake through the wall of the hotel in Kampot. I'd always suspected something. That was all the proof I needed. Did you think Blake was shot in the leg by accident?" He felt himself lightening by the second as the millstone came away from his neck. "It was payment. I sent your boy back to you a cripple."

"Very well, Winchester. It is true. Hiring you turned out to be a mistake. I did send Blake to Cambodia to make sure you would never leave there alive. Now, where does that leave us? Are you going to walk away? You know what that would mean."

"I know. You would hunt me to the ends of the Earth." He paused. "No, I'm not going to walk away because I know it's what you want. You wouldn't even have to pretend anymore."

"Interesting, but you always have been the black sheep of the family, Winchester. So, what are you going to do?"

James draped his crimson arm over the steering wheel. "Here's what I want, Gallagher. I'm going to complete the contract. I will not resign because as much as you hate me, my record speaks for itself. What I am going to do is add Mlakar to my list. Kadrić will die, but I will make sure Mlakar is rotting in his grave. And you will not interfere."

Gallagher tittered. "Is that so, Winchester? Then very well, Mlakar is yours –"

"While we're here, that's not all. I never want to see Blake's face again. If we cross paths, I'll send your boy back in a pine box. Do we have a deal?"

"You have nothing to worry about on that score, Winchester. Blake will never move like he used to. After all the therapy, he still walks with a limp. We both know that makes him wholly unsuitable for continued work in the field. I accepted his discharge request. Blake returned home to America with a very healthy pension."

"Then send him my regards for a happy retirement."

"Naturally. I only hope you will