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

“Okay.” Kemal started to stir his coffee.

“Look, after Kadrić is gone, this is not over for your people. I want to keep your son safe because he hasn’t done anything to deserve the punishment they gave him. The Bosnian-Serbs will be looking for revenge.”

“How can I repay you?” Kemal dipped a large sugar cube into his cup and sucked the coffee from it. “Jakov betrayed me. He was my friend. Not now. On my honour as a Bosnian, I must do something, but to Serbia I cannot go.”

“Why not? I thought you would have loved the opportunity.”

“I am not allowed in Serbia, my friend. Politics.”

James wanted to know more about that story, but he didn’t have the time for a long conversation. He couldn’t risk not making it to Belgrade in time for the meeting.

“Thank you, Kemal, regardless. I know what happened in Mostar wasn’t what you intended. Just keep an eye out for Kadrić’s men.”

Kemal reached across the table and seized James’ hand and clutched it. “On my honour, my friend. I do this for you.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Belgrade, City of Belgrade, Serbia

The train rattled onwards from the Serbian border. After three different train changes, James and Sinclair were finally on the direct train to Belgrade. The Serbian border guards had barely glanced at them as they took their forged passports. Neither of them used their real names on official documentation.

After a cursory glance, the Serbians continued their way down the carriage, rapping their knuckles on the glass doors of each compartment. James folded his arms, his eyes alert.

“You didn’t have to come, you know?” said James.

Sinclair sighed. “I know, but I figure nothing can be worse than Mostar. Besides, I need to keep my eye on you. The last thing we need is a dead ambassador.”

His arms tightened and he continued his vigil at the blurry landscape beyond the raindrops, a frown across his face.

“I should call Gallagher, to let him know we are about to carry out the operation.”

James didn’t respond.

Sinclair watched his friend for a few moments. He didn’t particularly want to join James in Belgrade. His place was sitting in a warm room behind a computer screen, but he had to keep a watch on James. Gallagher’s offer had been a generous one and he’d already taken a bullet in the leg to earn it.

“Gallagher,” Sinclair started.

“Wood. Give me a status report.”

“We are on our way to Belgrade to carry out the hit on Kadrić. We have him in our sights.”

“Interesting. How did you make so much progress? Was it Pejakovski?”

“No.” The train began to bump as it started rattling along the tracks again. “The client, actually. He called on us at the hotel. Somehow, he managed to find out that he would be in Belgrade this weekend. Meeting with the ambassador.”

“Ambassador Plemenac?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Winchester best keep his distance. I will not have a man with diplomatic immunity murdered in cold blood, do you understand?” His voice descended into a staccato. “Do not touch Plemenac, no matter what.”

“Yes, sir.”

James tilted his head in interest.

“James is here, sir.”

“Repeat it. If Plemenac is harmed, we are finished.”

Sinclair lowered the phone. “Gallagher is warning us. Don’t touch Plemenac, whatever happens. We don’t have the authorisation from HQ to do it. Is that clear?”

His lip curled upwards in disgust. “Of course.”

He raised the phone to his ear again. “He understands, sir. One other thing, about the other matter. I hope it will still be honoured.”

“I am a man of my word, Wood. I must say, I have been most impressed with your speed in this matter. The client will be immensely pleased that this has been done, with almost three weeks to spare.”

Sinclair’s shoulders sagged in relief. He’d had nightmares that Gallagher had only made the offer to exercise his power and control. No matter how many years passed, he would never trust a man like Gallagher.

“Thank you, sir. I will report back when we return from Belgrade.”

Sinclair felt his friend’s eyes raking him. Maybe he’d made an error in bringing up that last part with Gallagher whilst in James’ presence.

“What’s going to be honoured?” asked James.

Sinclair turned back to him, hoping the deception wasn’t written in his face. “My wage increase.”

He smirked and burst out laughing. “You clever bastard. Why didn’t I think to haul Gallagher over the coals as well?”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

James observed the streets of Belgrade’s Stari Grad district. The cobbles bustled with tourists and locals enjoying the milder winter temperatures. Pleasant wafts of cooked meat sailed out of restaurant doors and hung in the air. Little stalls of minced meat wrapped in cabbage leaves filled the historical district, while coffee and hot chocolate offered welcome relief for cold fingers.

None of this interested James as he marched along the crumbling outside wall of the Belgrade Fortress. Set on one of the highest points of Belgrade, it looked out across most of the city. The Sava and the Danube confluence below formed an enormous vein running through the heart of the Balkans.

James ventured through the open iron gate with Sinclair in tow. During the day, the locals and tourists alike strolled through the enormous Kalemegdan Park and the remains of the citadel. Much of it had been preserved, but the tops were uneven, as if someone had taken bites out of the brickwork.

“You know,” said Sinclair. “The entire population of the city used to live within these walls. Belgrade is older than Christ. They say by at least three centuries.”

“Shut up, Sinclair,” James barked. “Now isn’t the time. We need to make this quick. I don’t want Kadrić to be scouting the park as well. The longer we’re here, the more we’re