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

enough to kill hundreds of men if needed. A bright idea sprung into his mind as he turned back to Jessi.

“Maybe you can help me when Quezada comes.”

Jessi shook her head. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Those are my terms. If he brings more men than we think he’s going to bring, I’m going to need an extra gun.”

The colour drained from Jessi’s face. It became obvious she’d never seen a gun in the flesh before, much less fired one.

“It’s easier than you think. I’m not asking you to become a sniper overnight, but some help would keep us alive.”

“I wouldn’t even know which button to press.”

James gave her a warm smile. “Don’t worry about it. We can practice. We have the time, and there’s a big courtyard down there. When does Quezada normally arrive?”

Jessi shrugged. “Whenever he wants.”

“Good.” James stood. “Then we have more than enough time to give you some basic training. Don’t worry, if something happens, I’ll protect you.”

Jessi fluttered her eyelashes at him in agreement.

He doubted Jessi would be much use in an armed confrontation, but a distraction could serve him well. Quezada was no idiot. He might be a raging sociopath, but he wouldn’t go down easy. If Vargas could kill Diego, Quezada could kill him.

The thought chilled him as he resumed his seat and invited Jessi to join him. She would have to learn quickly.

Chapter Forty-One

Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco, Mexico

 

Puerto Vallarta rested on the western precipice of Central Mexico. A party town by nature, its share of expats and rich Mexicans mingled together on the Malecon. Although the State of Jalisco was contested territory between Montoya’s and Quezada’s cartels, the Sinaloa Cartel had prospered in most of the Pacific regions.

Fernando waited on the edge of the Malecon, near a statue of a great dolphin. He smoked a cigarette out of nerves. Today, he’d come alone. The restless sea did little to help him steady himself. Moving without Alex felt like losing his training wheels.

“Fernando Gomez,” said the man behind him in clear accented Spanish.

Fernando turned to find the gringo he’d been in contact with for the past week. He’d hesitated to meet him, but since his unofficial promotion to lieutenant after the Cancun assassination, he decided to take a chance. He didn’t need the permission of Alex, or even his boss Quezada, to act alone. It was all for the good of Santa Maria de Guadalupe.

“Blake Miller, from America.”

Fernando grasped his hand half-heartedly as he stared into his dark aviators.

“Did you come alone?” asked Blake.

“As we agreed.” Fernando threw his cigarette into the aqua blue waters. “What do you want?”

“Come, let’s walk. I think I have a business proposition for you. It could make you a very wealthy man.”

Fernando nodded and they strolled down the Malecon. Fat Mexican fathers eating tacos and the young and beautiful all mixed upon the renovated boardwalk. Puerto Vallarta had little in the way of a golden, sandy beach. Piers stretching out from the shore took up what little sand there was, forcing everyone to move in close as they fought for prime real estate.

“I want you to keep everything in confidence. You want to be rich and you want power, correct?”

Fernando found the question strange and responded with a basal grunt.

“Good. I picked you out for a reason. A rising star in your business, as I understand it. You are the next generation of leader.”

“Quezada is my leader, and he’s young.”

“Hmmm, but you know as well as anyone how this business works. It’s a blessing from God to wake up alive each day.”

“True.”

“What would you say if I said to you that you could one day be the leader.”

Fernando stopped as his pulse jumped. He’d always dreamed of becoming the leader of a cartel one day. He couldn’t deny that he’d always envied first Alex and then Quezada himself. The respect they got impressed him and he wanted it for himself.

He gulped. “I will not betray Quezada.”

Blake clapped his hands together. “My friend, this has nothing to do with betrayal. It’s only about putting yourself in position when the time comes. I want to know whether you want it.”

“I am.” Fernando paused. “I do.”

“Excellent. Your time is going to come sooner than you think. What you need to know is that Quezada’s time is running out.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’ll be dead soon enough. Some very powerful people want him dead. Soon, they’re going to do it and then your cartel will be left without a leader. Who will take over and keep everything running smoothly?”

Fernando took a deep breath. The idea that he could be the leader made him want it, but Quezada’s organisation had given him everything. Before he became a narco, he worked in a supermarket stacking shelves. Could he wish death upon the man who had dragged him up from the gutter?

“Think about it, Fernando. Just think about it. This is going to happen with or without you. For Quezada, it would be the best way to honour his memory.”

“What would you want me to do?”

Blake gestured at a nearby bench.

Fernando sat bolt upright, not trusting the gringo for a second. “Don’t ask me to do anything against him.”

“Of course not.” Blake eased back on the bench and crossed one leg over the other. “I understand you’re loyal to him. But tell me who you think would take over the cartel if he died? Who would be the competition?”

Fernando thought about it. He’d met every single one of Quezada’s top men, but he hadn’t thought about succession in any great detail.

“Vargas is dead. Quezada has no family he would trust to take his position. Parejo, well, Alex isn’t the man he once was,” he said.

“Parejo?”

Fernando