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

killed Goran, but I have a lead. This was not Bosnians. I know it. I feel it in my heart."

Darko's breathing grew sharper as the rage built. "Not Bosnians? How can you say that? You think Serbians did this?"

"No." Kadrić let go of him. "Foreigners."

Darko's eyes knitted together in confusion. "Foreigners?"

"Some of my contacts in Sarajevo have been watching since the game against FK Sarajevo. Remember Ivica Boro? Why would Bosnian football fans want to take him? It was a targeted hit. Think about it. Is it not suspicious to you?"

Darko lifted his head. The mad dog had momentarily forgotten his rage.

"Yes. It was too good. He disappeared after he was taken. Nobody found the body. Why would they want a nobody like Boro? He said something. He led them to Goran. My men say foreigners were seen with the White Rose."

"The White Rose?"

"An organisation for peace." Kadrić allowed himself a laugh and spat on the ground. "Their leader is Ratko Avdić. Son of Kemal Avdić. Kemal fought in the war. Works with Croatians against us. He was seen with two foreigners."

Darko threw his cigarette to the ground. Every Bosnian-Serb nationalist knew Kemal. He had slaughtered countless Bosnian-Serbs during the war. As for his involvement today, he remained the great unknown.

"It must be those foreigners."

Kadrić nodded. "We find the foreigners. We avenge Goran's death. Go to Sarajevo, Darko. Find out who they are."

"And Avdić?"

"Don't kill him. Send a message. Make him tell us who they are and where we can find them. As for Kemal, we wait. He will retaliate."

"Leave him alive?" Darko spoke each word with a pause, as if he couldn't understand the concept.

"Killing Avdić is an unnecessary risk. What honour is there in killing a man who cares only for peace? A man who will not fight for anything because he fears us. He has information. That's what we need... and maybe we can use him."

Darko thought about it. "We could lure them in. The foreigners. Send a message. Make the foreigner live in fear."

"Well done," Kadrić marvelled at Darko's restraint. "This is why I trust you to lead our men. You are a smart man."

Darko embraced him, giving him a hearty slap on the back.

"I go, today, to Sarajevo. Then the foreigners will die screaming."

Kadrić bade Darko goodbye. Relief washed over him when he talked Darko down from the high peak of insanity. When Darko was at his best, he was ruthless and utterly cold. When he was at his worst, he could destroy everything they had worked to build over the last twenty years.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Sarajevo, Sarajevo Canton, Bosnia and Herzegovina

 

Five days had passed since the assassination of Goran Pejakovski. Five long days of watching and waiting from the safety of the Hotel Old Town. The news reported on nothing but the targeted attack on the long-term resident of Jajce. James wanted to hunt Darko immediately, but he'd held off. His better judgement convinced him to stay quiet, to allow the dust to settle. The police would be on high alert nationwide after the massacre in Mostar and now the killing in Jajce.

"You're walking better than expected," James said to Sinclair, fresh out of hospital. He leaned against his spot on the balcony. "I didn't think you would have recovered so quickly."

Sinclair limped towards him. "Physical therapy will not be required, it seems. I was lucky they missed anything important." He grimaced as he eased himself onto the stool next to James. "Any updates?"

James clicked his tongue mockingly thought about it. "Well, I'm going to kill Jakov Mlakar later – I already made sure to speak to Gallagher about that – oh, and I threw Goran Pejakovski off the top of a waterfall. Apart from that... a pretty boring few days."

"Splendid. Well, as long as you are not at risk of becoming idle." Sinclair swiped a chocolate biscuit from the half-open packet on the low table. "So, who will you be murdering next? That is, if it's not too much trouble to tell me, of course."

James took a drag of his cigarette. "Darko Borisov."

"Explain."

"Darko Borisov is one of Kadrić's right hand men. Pejakovski talked about him before he... tripped. It turns out he didn't know much about Kadrić at all. He was a low life criminal called in for a job here and there, but Borisov's name will be a useful one."

"Have you done any research?"

"I sent a request to London to be passed onto Finch. If he managed to find anything, he would have likely already sent it to you."

Sinclair sighed, half of a chocolate biscuit gripped in his teeth, and went to get one of his laptops.

James twirled the cigarette between his fingers. The mood of Sinclair had changed in an instant. He assumed the few days he had to sit in a hospital bed all day had cured whatever ailed him. He returned with the open laptop slung across a forearm.

"Did you receive anything? I think things have quieted down enough."

"Whether they have or they haven't, you're going."

James was taken aback by that. "What's the rush all of a sudden?"

"Nothing. I want to get this over with as much as you do." Sinclair’s keyboard made little click-clack sounds as he typed away. "Ah, here we are. Finch has already delivered a dossier on Borisov. Let me look..."

"He lives somewhere in the small town of Kakanj, just south of the border with Srpska, according to Pejakovski."

"Mmhmm..." Sinclair rubbed underneath his chin. "Well, it sounds like a small town, so let's find him as soon as we can, kill Kadrić, and be on our way."

James screwed his face up. "Do you have a holiday booked?"

"No, I told you. I want to get out of here."

"How quickly were you thinking?"