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

took a deep breath. His stomach tightened as he let out a great kick at the ancient door. It moved but didn’t break. He kicked it again and again. After the fifth kick, the lock burst free and the door swung open with a crash.

James clutched his gun and charged inside, expecting to find a gunman waiting for him in a dark corner. What he saw in that hacienda stupefied him. The hacienda had all the signs of a home, rather than a prison. Old and poorly maintained, but everything seemed in order. A tank with a variety of colourful fish inside bubbled away.

“Hello,” he called out.

His voice echoed through the halls of the hacienda. He stopped to hear a response. On the very edge of his hearing, he swore he heard a voice shouting back, a woman’s voice. But was it the aunt, or Jessi?

James fought the urge to run after the voice and potentially throw himself into a trap. He carefully stepped through the many storerooms, lounge areas, and the kitchen. All empty.

“Is anyone there?” James shouted again.

The voice came back at him, much closer this time. He listened and pegged it as coming from the upstairs apartments. He ran to the steps and took them two and three at a time. His feet slapped against the cold stone, reverberating throughout the building.

“Is anyone there?”

“Yes, I’m in here.” A woman banged on a door to his left. “Who are you?”

James came to the door. Like the rest, it was well-worn, but a padlock barred his entry.

“Move away from the door,” said James. “I’ll open it from the outside.”

He heard shuffling on the inside and when it quieted, he massaged his right thigh for a moment. James checked the lock. It looked cheap and rusted through.

Levelling his pistol, he slammed the butt of it directly onto the padlock. It snapped, the cheap metal not standing up against his firearm. He shoved the door open, revealing a small bedroom.

A young Mexican heartbreaker stared back at him. Jessi Montoya.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Miami, Florida, United States of America

George kneaded his hands together as he ruminated in his office. He stared up at the portrait of the president. The eyes followed him, judging him. He couldn’t believe Phelps had found out so much about his dealings. George cursed Harrison’s father for doing everything he could to mess up his plans. The elder Phelps had always wanted to stick his nose into business that didn’t concern him. That’s what had given him such power.

“Jack, we don’t have another choice. I need you to come up with a plan to undermine Romero or it’s both our asses,” said George at last.

Jack wore a worried look. “There’s not a lot we can do. Romero would know what we’re up to the moment you did it. What did you have in mind?”

“Romero needs our ports. Without those, he’ll be forced further into the underworld. If he tries to launch smaller boats away from the ports, more of his shipments will be caught by the Coastguard. The more we can drain his money the bigger his risks.”

Jack didn’t look impressed. “It is an idea.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“George, you’re forgetting the promises you made to Governor Newton. He wants his retirement, and if the money doesn’t come in, he’ll take you down.”

George clenched his fists. That damnable Governor Newton. George let out a curse. The governor still believed George had Cazalla in his pocket and control over Mexico’s foreign affairs department. He didn’t. It was a bald-faced lie.

“Well, god damn. How am I supposed to play both sides at the same time?”

Jack scratched his right temple. “You need to drop one, George. You can’t pretend you’re neutral anymore. Someone’s going to have to take the fall, and we need to make sure it isn’t us.”

George leaned forwards, contemplating the risks of betraying either side. Both Newton and Phelps could humiliate him politically. Not only would it lead to his forced retirement, but it might also mean spending the rest of his life in a Federal prison.

“George, which country is the greatest country in the world?”

George looked at his ally curiously. “America, of course.”

“Then why side with anything Mexican? Side with the America that made us great. Side with the America that saved the rest of the world from the Reds. Forget these gangsters and the people who follow them. What, you think they’re going to try to kill you? They wouldn’t dare. Our president would send tanks across the border tomorrow, and they know it.”

George’s heart swelled with joy at the realisation. Yes, Jack had a point. He should have never aligned himself with these lower-class humans anyway. He should have stuck to good old America. A sense of freedom washed over him, a feeling he’d not experienced in a long time.

“And to hell with Governor Newton, too. He’s a state governor. We can wipe the floor with him. He’ll retire soon anyway.”

“Yes, Jack, yes. Now I know what I’m going to do.”

George grabbed the black cell phone sitting on the edge of his oaken desk. He flicked through his list of contacts. The number he chose didn’t have a name associated with it, but he clicked on it and the dial tone rang.

“Harrison, hello, it’s George.”

“Good afternoon, what can I help you with?” Harrison’s smooth, confident tones slid like silk.

“You have my full support. We’re going to starve Romero and cut off those boats. I want you to use your influence to have a full national emergency declared. Increase the presence of the Coastguard and anyone you have in the Gulf.”

“I have a few friends who could help with that before I take my father’s place. By the end of the week, Romero won’t be able to take a dump without