Failed State (A James Winchester Thriller Book 1) (James Winchester Series) - James Samuel (top novels of all time .txt) 📗

Diego strolled towards the front door as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He lagged behind him a couple of steps, ever alert.

A short, stout woman answered the door. She had a friendly face and lips smeared with bright red lipstick.

“Good morning,” said Diego. “My name is Diego Gutierrez. As I said before, I’m sorry that I had to bother you, but I drove a long way from Guanajuato to get here.”

The woman nodded. “No problem. She will be excited to hear from you. Come on, I’ll take you to the lakeside room. She’s almost ninety now and she spends most of her time sitting and watching her telenovelas.”

Diego turned to James. “This is an associate of Vargas. He’s foreign and doesn’t speak Spanish.”

The nurse inclined her head slightly but didn’t question the gringo who had turned up at her door.

The home of Vargas’ mother came with a mixture of the modern and the traditional. Authentic wooden beams running along the ceilings smelt of fresh varnish. The perfectly finished plastering on the walls looked freshly painted. It resembled an ordinary hacienda with a couple of glass cubes stuck thoughtlessly on top.

“Juliana,” she called. “Your son’s friends are here with a message.”

“What are we supposed to do?” said James in English.

“Just go with it. This doesn’t need to be violent. We just need to get Vargas here… then we can deal with him. I won’t hurt the mother.”

James gulped as they ascended the steps to the modern room with the lakeside view. A plasma TV stood in front of the window. Within a well-used blue armchair, a woman resembling a starving crow in an oversized dress never took her eyes away from the screen.

Their steps echoed and creaked as their leather shoes hammered on the floorboards. The woman jumped to Juliana’s side to get her attention.

“Juliana, did you hear me?”

The crone lifted her head. She had a coldness in her eyes, like she’d given up on living long ago. Her skin stretched across her cheekbones, giving her sharp features and enhancing her hooked nose.

“What?” said Juliana.

“Remember, I told you. Your son sent his friends to bring you a message.”

She moved to their sides. “She’s hard of hearing and a little forgetful. Early signs of dementia.”

Diego stepped forward and knelt before the mother, taking her hand and giving it a little kiss. “Juliana, your son has told me so much about you. This is an honour.”

James didn’t see a flicker of recognition in her face. He wondered if she even knew where she was. Her eyes barely left the television screen.

“Why hasn’t he visited me?” asked Juliana.

“He’s been very busy, but I’m sure he’ll come to visit you soon. Trust me on that. Your son just wanted you to know that he hasn’t forgotten about you and he’s going to make some time to come see you in the next few days. He sent me to deliver this message to you personally.”

Juliana appeared to smile, but James couldn’t tell within the masses of drooping wrinkles around her dried lips.

Diego took her hand again and gripped it before she withdrew it and gestured for him to get out of the way of the television.

“Well?” said James.

Diego turned to Juliana’s nurse. “What’s about to happen here has nothing to do with you. I need you to call her son and tell him to come here at once.”

She put her hands on her hips. “What are you talking about?”

“We came here to hold her hostage. Make him come.” Diego jabbed a finger at her face as she opened her mouth. “There’s no need to scream. Let Juliana be. As you said, she’s nearly deaf and she has problems with her memory.”

Her mouth fell open. “She needs to be taken care of.”

“Then take care of her,” said Diego. “All you have to do is act like we’re not here. Now, go, and nobody gets hurt.” He took out his wallet and counted out 10,000 pesos, which he forced into her hand. “For your trouble.”

The nurse took the notes and departed downstairs to relay the message to Vargas.

“Do you think she’s going to do it?” said James.

“Of course. If she doesn’t, Vargas will kill her. Two men have just taken his mother’s house. What do you think Vargas would do to her if she didn’t ask call?”

James clamped his lips together in a grim smile. “Now we wait.”

Chapter Thirty

Guanajuato, Guanajuato, Mexico

 

Blake liked to patronize the fanciest restaurants in any town he visited. Today, Blake had forced Sinclair to sit at a restaurant in the middle of Plaza Teatro Juarez. Mariachi bands played notes of love as visitors clapped along. Waiters dressed in pristine white shirts and bow ties rushed between tables to change the ashtrays, deliver the food, and take the requests of their customers at a speed which baffled the locals.

“Isn’t it ten times the price of a normal restaurant here?” asked Sinclair. “These are tourist restaurants.”

Blake stared at him through his aviator sunglasses. They’d just polished off the remains of their meals and had leaned back in their chairs to enjoy post-meal cognacs, their elbows propped up on the arms of their chairs. A waiter delivered yet another round of drinks to their table.

“Where is Winchester now?” asked Blake.

“He’s in Pátzcuaro. Holding Vargas’ mother hostage to draw him into the open. Expect him to respond quickly.”

“Good.” Blake took a drag of his cigarette. “Very good. If he can take Vargas alive he should give him the location of Jessi Montoya.”

“And remove one of Quezada’s most ruthless lieutenants.”

“Precisely, it will be a big blow to the cartel.”

Sinclair took a sip of his cognac. It went down smooth, warming his throat just enough to smack his lips. “And