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

"And you... sir."

James disconnected the call. His eyes stretched wide; his blood pressure accelerated. But releasing the secret from his cage had lightened him. The games were over. Everyone now knew where they stood.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

James inspected the silver Audi A3 parked on the outskirts of Sarajevo. On the other side of the train tracks, overgrown with crystallised blades of grass, he looked up at the flash of violet hair to see Nazifa coming towards him, her long trench coat swishing around her calves. He greeted her with a thin smile. She was about the only person he wanted to see right now. The only person he felt who wasn’t angry with him for one reason or another.

"Hey, is this the car?" She gave him a hug. "Where did you get it?"

"It's only a rental car. Are you ready to go?"

"Yep. I got the address here." She patted her breast pocket. "You have the guns?"

"More than we need. I don't know if Pejakovski will be protected or whether he will see us coming. You know, you don't have to come if you don't want to. It might be dangerous."

Nazifa patted him on the elbow. "Come on, it’s not so dangerous. Besides, I like spending time with you."

The two of them climbed into the car. The spacious vehicle looked almost new. He adjusted his seat and switched on the ignition. Already, the feeling of being behind the wheel reminded him of Sinclair’s moans from the day before. He shook the thoughts from his mind and pulled away from the tracks.

"How's Sinclair?"

James didn't turn to look at her. "Not talking to me. Thinks it was all my fault for putting us in that situation in the first place." He clicked his tongue. "He'll come to terms with it sooner or later. Getting shot in the leg is something of a traumatic experience for anyone, let alone someone who isn't used to it."

"Have you ever been shot?"

"More times than I care to count. What about you?"

"Never."

"Well, let's keep it that way."

The drive through the heart of the Federation took them from traffic jam to open road. Nazifa talked his ear off the whole way, yet it didn't bother him. Both of them steered clear from the matters at hand, content for the relief. The snows had seemingly settled across the whole country, leaving a glittering diamond of a landscape. The slick black roads weaved like oily veins from valley to valley.

Houses in various stages of construction dotted the countryside. Some were mere skeletons, their concrete innards exposed to the elements. Others had warm, welcoming lights burning in their windows. The closer they came to Jajce, the hillier the land became, the fewer shanty settlements they passed.

James pulled into a relief stop overlooking a valley. Errant snowflakes caught on the howling wind and drifted through the air. He got out of the car and struggled to light his cigarette. After some furious clicks, he inhaled some much-needed tobacco.

"Did you call Kemal?" Nazifa said at last as she took his cigarette to light her own. "He was not happy last night."

James darkened at that. "You spoke to him?"

"Yes, at Ratko's. He called you many times, eh?"

"He did."

Nazifa's Balkan features enchanted him as she stared straight at him. "You think Mlakar was his fault?"

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Why?"

James walked away towards the dividing barrier. The valley seemed to stretch into infinity, a freezing river struggling to force itself down from the mountains. Smoke rose from the three tiny villages standing alone, surrounded by a cloud of white.

"He is a very good friend to me." Nazifa joined him. "I’ve known him a long time. A very long time. He is a good man."

"He was also the man who set up that meeting and swore to me it wouldn't be a problem. Jakov Mlakar is a good friend to him, apparently. What is that supposed to tell me after his friend tried to kill me?"

"I will never believe he meant it. Never. Kemal is a good friend of mine. He has no reason to want you dead. He is a Bosnian, never a Serbian."

"What about a Croatian?"

"Kemal's family is pure Bosnian. He is proud of his family and where they came from. All the way back to when the Turks ruled Bosnia, Kemal is a Bosnian. You know he would die for his country, and you are helping his country." She took a drag on her cigarette. "If you trust me, you will trust Kemal. Some of the people he knows are crazy, but him, no."

James did believe her. There was no lying in her. She was as fiery a nationalist as they came, but he couldn't totally forgive Kemal. Regardless of his intentions, Kemal could have got them killed. Could he take the risk of Kemal putting them in danger again?

Nazifa took his hand and gave it a little squeeze. "Please talk to him, at least. He found Pejakovski, didn't he?"

He shook off Nazifa’s electrifying touch and discarded the remains of his cigarette. He crunched it underneath his boot, grinding it into the tarmac. "That remains to be seen. Come on, we need to get to Jajce before it gets dark."

"Are we staying the night?" She brightened. "It's been so long since I left Sarajevo."

"That depends on how quickly I can shoot Pejakovski."

Nazifa giggled that infectious laugh of hers and they both climbed into the car for the last stretch on the way to Jajce.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Heavy bandages bound Sinclair's leg. He felt weighed down, constricted by the trappings around him. His private room came complete with the sterile, flavourless depression associated with any hospital. Flicking through the television channels, he tried in vain