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

time. They are Englishmen. Highly trained. Clearly experienced. Every killing of a nationalist in the last few weeks can most certainly be attributed to them."

"I will see them dead," he growled.

"That is not why I called you here to meet me. The two Englishmen are dangerous, but they are not trying to dismantle the nationalist movement. Their brief is simple: to kill you. They care not for Bosnia, Serbia, or anyone else in the Balkans. Like all foreigners, they are here to take what they want and then to leave."

Kadrić ran a hand across his head. His breathing grew shorter, sharper, more furious.

"My only problem is I don't know who hired them to kill you in the first place. Only they would know that, and their masters are abroad. I'm not even sure which organisation they work for."

"An English one, of course."

"Not necessarily. Private military organisations hire based on skill and experience not nationality. It's not uncommon for mercenaries to be hired for a single project only for them to move to a rival organisation later."

"In any case, they'll die."

"Calm down," Plemenac snapped. "You're becoming side-tracked. I called you here to discuss the necessary changes we need to make to advance the cause of Srpska."

Plemenac brushed past him, conscious of people passing close enough to see and hear them. He chose a spot near a low, crumbling wall on the edge of the fort. The bright lights dazzled him for a moment, leaving colourful orbs like pixies floating across his vision. Once away from the lights, shrouded in near total darkness, he stopped. Kadrić tucked himself into the corner and leaned against the safety barrier and the remains of the wall.

"What changes? Everything is ready. We have the weapons. We have enough men to make significant inroads into Bosnia. Now has never been a better time to strike."

"I admire everything you have done. Your men chose you for a reason. Many of them you led through the war. You hid them and kept them when the war ended." Plemenac jabbed a finger at him. "Because of you, many of these men were able to do something useful with their lives. I appreciate you for that."

"Thank you, Mr. Ambassador."

"Are you still wanted for war crimes?"

Tension settled between them. The warm chatter of the revellers in the distance did nothing to make the question any less awkward. Plemenac had already done his research. Kadrić was still a designated war criminal, and the authorities still wanted him.

Kadrić scoffed. "They call them war crimes. They don't know war. Let them keep their little charges, I don't care."

Plemenac eyed up Kadrić, and then he smiled. "Then I think we need to change the situation for good."

"What changes?"

Plemenac whipped out the gold tactical pen from his pocket. He drove it into Kadrić's throat. Blood splashed out of the open wound. He forced him to the ground, the pen driving into the man’s flesh like a spike. Plemenac stopped himself. He wouldn't deliver the killing blow.

"Do you know why we need to make changes?"

Plemenac drove his knee into Kadrić's chest. The whites of his eyes were visible, like two milk moons. He pressed his palm into his neck, trying to stop the bleeding. Plemenac knew he would die here. His strikes had torn the veins and arteries. No doctor could save him now.

"You committed too many atrocities during the war. It gives the West justification to intervene. You're an animal. Our movement cannot be led by you. More to the point, those Englishmen are dangerous. They could destroy decades of work. Now you're going to die, they'll leave. There will be nobody to stop us now."

Plemenac got off the bleeding Kadrić. His breaths grew shallow and uneven. Blood oozed from between his fingers.

"You got blood on my fucking shoes." Plemenac spat on Kadrić. "Don't take too long. Think of your family before you leave this place."

Plemenac deposited the bloody pen back in his pocket and strode away. With Kadrić gone, it removed the last true obstacle to his power over the Bosnian-Serbs. More importantly, the foreign agents no longer had any purpose here. He'd done them a favour. Now they would return to where they came from. His plan had worked perfectly.

Chapter Forty

James felt nauseous after witnessing what had just taken place mere feet away. He'd seen everything through a hole in the fortress wall. Taken completely by surprise, he vaulted the wall and approached the dying Kadrić. He hadn’t understood any of the words that passed between them during the attack. From the tone of their voices, he'd detected no argument, no point of conflict. Who was Plemenac, and why would he want to kill Kadrić?

Kadrić lay dying, staring at the twinkling stars. He almost had a smile on his face, a wonder in his eyes. His belly continued to rise but from his ragged breaths, he guessed living had become more torturous by the second. James had seen it too many times. He knew Kadrić only had minutes to live.

He knelt next to Kadrić. "Do you speak English, Kadrić?"

Kadrić turned his head. "Who...who are you?"

"I've been hunting you. My name is James Winchester."

Kadrić let out a great breath. Apathy. Acceptance. Whatever it was, James had seen that look in men before. He had accepted his own mortality.

"Why did Plemenac do that? What's he doing? I want to know."

"He wants... everything." Kadrić let out a phlegmy cough. "Plemenac wants Srpska to be free. And it will."

"Then let me help you. Give me something I can work with."

"You don't care for any of us." Kadrić opened his mouth to say something. An odd gurgling sound emanated from the depths of his throat.

"I'm not interested in seeing men like him destroy this country. You're going to die any moment now.