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

James nodded.

"He worked for the mafia in Sarajevo. A rich man. He owns the bar in the next street. Tourist bar. Full of British flags and a red box outside for the phones."

"Well, my experiences with the mafia so far haven't been pleasant or rewarding. Can we trust him? I mean really trust him?"

Kemal shook his head. "No, he is a coward, like Ratko. He likes violence, but he won't fight. He also likes to lie about how strong he is. Addy will always run in a fight."

"Well, that hardly sounds like good news."

"It's no problem, my friend. Addy knows people. I think he knows Plemenac. He is like a cockroach. Don't trust him, but you pay him he helps you, you see?"

"I can work with that."

The last of the ice cream cone disappeared into the blackness of Kemal's mouth. He dusted his hands off and slapped James on the back to direct him forwards. Kemal sounded like he was choking on the remains of his ice cream as he tried to speak through his chewing, only to blow the fragments of the cone into the air.

Kemal took him to the bar James had briefly seen on his travels through Sarajevo. It had a gigantic London phone box sitting outside the open door, which stretched from wall to wall. A collection of high stools and tables were placed in front of the window. The Union Jack flew from the front, with bunting of the same type across the walls inside. Unsurprisingly, most of the clientele were clearly not Bosnian. Accents from England, America, and Australia filtered out into the air.

James wrinkled his nose at the fake British memorabilia when they walked in. "A man of class and sophistication, I see."

"Yes, my friend, he is trash. You sit, I go find him for you."

James sighed as he thrust himself through the mob of drinking backpackers. He sat himself on the far table as close to the wall as possible. It offered no protection from the winter chill, but he had no desire to advance further into this miserable hall of cliches.

Kemal eventually returned with a man sporting a heavy jowl, a midnight shadow, and a thinning hairline. His hands were like plates and his smile false.

"James, this is Adnan Hajdarevic."

"Hello there, my friends call me Addy." Addy grasped his hand and pumped it up and down like a waterspout. "Welcome to my bar, you like?"

"It's very... nice,” James said, practicing diplomacy. “I like the decoration."

"Just like your homeland, eh? I get you drinks. Beer for an Englishman, of course." Addy turned and clicked his fingers at the barman. Their beers soon appeared on the edge of the bar.

James exchanged a look of disgust with Kemal.

"Here you go, my friends. It's been many years, Kemal. Why you never drink here with me?" Addy clonked the three bottles of beer on the table. The flecks of frost still clung to the necks, the forest green label adhering to the dark brown glass.

"Business, you know how it is. Many things changed."

Addy perched himself on the stool. He watched with amusement as Kemal struggled to balance himself on a stool half the size of his behind.

"My friend has a business proposal for you,” Kemal said. He swallowed a drink of his beer and then continued. “You're still a businessman, no?"

Addy’s jovial expression departed. His plain brown eyes appeared to light up a searching caramel. The smile became a grin, and not a grin James trusted.

James cleared his throat. "It's quite simple, Addy. Before I can do business with you, I need to know whether you know a man by the name of Vojo Plemenac, and how well you know him."

"Ah, I know that name." Addy's throaty voice sounded like it came from the baser part of his being. "Vojo Plemenac is a successful man, eh? What do you want with him?"

"That's my business."

Addy kept edging closer to him. "I see, I see. What's in this for me, eh?"

James had already come prepared for this. Blackwind afforded agents near limitless financial resources for their operations, including bribery. No currency was out of the question when it came to extracting information. He dug inside his coat and unveiled a bundle inside a plastic bag. Sliding it across the table, he indicated it with a nod of his head.

Addy's fingers grasped at it as he took the bundle and peeked inside the plastic bag. The greed flashed in his eyes. James thought him to be a cross between Gollum and some fantasy goblin who had happened upon a chest of gold.

"Yes, yes, very good, my friend." Addy wrapped the bundle up again. "What do you want to know?"

"Vojo Plemenac. Tell me about him."

"Ah, yes, Vojo. He is a very powerful man. A man I respect, but I would never trust him. Vojo is a dangerous man. Never trust him if you want to go into business with him." Addy jabbed his finger to emphasise his point. "Understand?"

James nodded.

"Vojo was in the army until Kosovo was lost from Serbia. When the revolution happened, Vojo left everything behind. The court in the Hague would have seen him put in prison for the rest of his life. War crimes. But these times were good for businessmen. After the war in Bosnia, houses were cheap. Very cheap. Anyone with money could buy them all." Addy took a swig of his beer. "Ah, sometimes I think the death of Yugoslavia was a miracle to us all."

"Did Plemenac involve himself in this?"

"Of course! He was a very rich man even in the army. He took many things from many people. Then he returned, joined the Serbian government, and now he is mafia." Addy patted his chest. "I am mafia