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

"Enough."

"Body armour?"

Kemal unzipped his thick coat and opened the top two buttons of his shirt to reveal the armour beneath him. It looked old and frayed. Most likely one of the many goodies he'd forgotten to return after the war.

"We go through the trees," said Kemal. "I know how to fight. In the trees we surprise them, eh?"

"My thoughts exactly. Driving up the main road would be suicide."

"I don't know how many, though. There will be more than them."

James nodded. He'd decided against telling Kemal about the presence of the highly skilled, highly deadly Gordon Maugham. Kemal was here as a mere distraction. He was going to die, just like the rest of them. The long drive had given James lots of time to work through the conflicted feelings he had for Kemal. In the end, he concluded, he was no better than the rest of them. Just another warmonger spewing his windy, nationalist trash.

"You ready, my friend?"

"I dressed after the border. Interceptor Multi-Threat Body Armor. It was used by the U.S. army up until a few years ago."

The two men got back into their respective cars and began the ascent up the winding track. James struggled to negotiate the snowdrifts as his head hung out of the window to keep his wheels out of any ditches. It was slow going and James wondered if the noise would alert Gordon. Sounds travelled far in the countryside.

"He's going to die, isn't he?" said Sinclair as they neared the treeline.

"Yes," he replied matter-of-factly. "He's no better than Plemenac. Kemal played me for a fool like the rest of them."

"And Nazifa?"

James bit his lower lip. "I haven't decided yet."

"Do you want my opinion on the subject?"

"With all due respect, Sinclair, not right now. We'll see."

The question of Nazifa had tormented him through the night. She had manipulated him with her happy, hyperactive demeanour. The way she spoke to him and the way she clung to him had allowed her to take advantage. Any feelings he once had for her were dead now, cast into the blackness of the back of his mind. But did she deserve to die? He hadn't worked that out yet. For now, he had to focus entirely on Gordon. An opponent who did have the steel to beat him in a fair fight.

James and Kemal parked their respective cars halfway up the hill. From here, they would advance on foot into the trees.

"You wait here for me."

"And what if you don't come back?" asked Sinclair.

"Tell Maugham I forced you to come here. Gallagher believes you’re on his side, so you have nothing to fear. Just wait for me." James lowered his voice. "Because Kemal will not be coming back. That is the one thing I can guarantee today."

"Take care, James, really."

Fearful that a moment would develop between the two, James shunted the door open and stepped onto the snow. His boots got some purchase, and he stretched his stiff joints. The thin, frigid air banished the last of his night-time grogginess. He opened the trunk and began getting his arsenal together. For three or four targets, he would rarely use anything more than the M9 semiautomatic 9mm. With Gordon on the scene, he wouldn’t feel comfortable unless he had a tank.

Strapping the M9 into his holster, he affixed all the detachable parts of his AR-15. He’d replaced the ordinary iron sights with an RDS system. He looked down the sights to see the red dot, which he’d already calibrated for himself. Unlike in Cambodia, he didn’t have any explosives to play around with.

“I like it,” said Kemal. “We need more of these. We kill thousands of Serbians. Come, my friend.”

James pursed his lips. His comments against Serbians and their sympathisers had an even more sinister ring to them than they did before. Had Kemal carried out the same ethnic cleansings as Plemenac had?

He motioned to Sinclair and they began the trek up the hill. A small clearing marked the beginning of the treeline. The satellite maps Sinclair had drawn up showed they had about 500 metres until the trail ended.

“Okay, no more words,” said Kemal.

The two men edged away from the trail and crept into the forest. They plunged through the low hanging branches of the fir trees, knocking a hail of delicately balanced snow. Silence but for their own footsteps crunching in the snow put James on edge.

Kemal raised a hand for them to halt. They listened for any sound of human life. Their breaths crystallised in front of them.

James nodded and they split up. The plan had been discussed after they’d crossed the border into Croatia. Splitting up would give them the element of surprise. For all Gordon’s experience, he wouldn’t have expected Kemal.

Kemal circled towards the trail. His enormous frame stuck out against the slim tree trunks. James waited for him to go, before continuing parallel to the trail. He noted the trees could only partially hide them, but the trunks would stop most calibre rounds. James couldn’t afford to get pinned down.

Once Kemal disappeared through the treeline again, he kept his eyes forward. All the trees looked the same. Little light managed to penetrate from above, so he had to pick his way through a path of muted silver.

James encountered no signs of a human presence as he traversed his way through the forest. The fresh snow remained undisturbed. Not even an animal had made its way through here in the last few hours. It gave him confidence that Nazifa’s captors hadn’t set a permanent watch in the areas away from the cabin proper.

A few minutes later, he saw hints of a clearing. Smooth wooden planks no doubt were the walls of the cabin. This place was too isolated for him to be wrong.