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

Gordon eased outwards again and let off another shot. James returned fire. The window of the cabin behind him shattered.

He moved out of cover to place another shot. Gordon managed to squeeze his shot off. It caught James by the edge of his calf and he went down screaming. His gun flew out of his hands as he toppled backwards, a pain like a hot knife twisting his leg made him want to wretch. But he bit his tongue to stay alert.

“What a shame.” Gordon emerged from cover upon seeing James disarmed. “Gallagher always spoke so highly of you. Yet you lost to an old man.”

James clutched at his stricken leg. His blood stained the snow, leaving a bloody smear across the pristine surface.

The sound of more shooting and a scream made Gordon snap his head up. “Excuse me.”

Gordon brushed past him, giving a nonchalant kick to James’ weapon. It went skittering through the snow and into the distance.

James propped himself up against the nearest tree as he watched Gordon turn towards the wounded Croatian. Kemal emerged from the trees. With little effort, Gordon fired a single shot and the big man fell to the ground, killed instantly.

James gulped. Kemal had served his purpose, but he’d died a little too soon. James was defenceless against Gordon as he gripped his wound as hard as he could to try to staunch the bleeding. Blood oozed from between his fingers.

Gordon turned back to him. “We did discuss whether to allow you to live. To bring you back to London where you could explain yourself. Perhaps even to give you another chance.” He let the gun fall to his side. “You are talented and an asset. I can respect that, but I must carry out my orders, you understand that?”

“You always were Gallagher’s favourite. Tell him I hope he falls down the stairs.”

Gordon grinned and raised his pistol. James cringed away, waiting for the light to go out. The pistol clicked. James opened his eyes. Gallagher had used his last bullet on Kemal. Gordon turned the weapon over, as if he didn’t understand it.

James pulled his knife from his belt and slammed it into Gordon’s calf. The Englishman screamed like a wild animal as the blade tore through muscle and cartilage. His lifeblood leaked out and mingled in the snow with his own.

James got on top of Gallagher and pinned him down. “Or maybe I’ll push him down the stairs myself.”

James drove the blade into the side of Gordon’s neck. His arteries exploded, spraying outwards like a fountain. The look of pure shock on Gordon’s arrogant countenance would remain there forever as he bled out into the snow. His arms went limp, the fingers splayed out at odd angles, as if trying to cling to the final vestiges of life.

The smell of gunfire and blood fouled the air. James got to his knees. His leg throbbed, sending pulsing waves of agony through his body. It wasn’t the first time he’d been shot, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Pushing himself up to vertical, he half limped, and half dragged his bleeding leg towards the cabin. There was still one more piece of business to get out of the way.

The cabin door remained open. He fell against it as he stumbled inside. A fire burned in the wood stove. The snow clinging to his clothes started to melt away, leaving little puddles of water around his feet mixed with blood.

Nazifa stood before him. A noose stuck tight around her neck. She stood on a chair. Her hands were tied behind her back with duct tape, as were her ankles. Her shoulder sagged as relief washed over her and smile formed behind the tape covering her mouth.

He wanted more than anything to take her in her arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. But he didn’t. He just took her figure in for a few seconds. The girl had manipulated him, played him like a fool. James stumbled towards her and removed the tape covering her mouth.

“James, thank you. You came to save me. You’re hurt. Let me help you.”

James just stared at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what? What are you talking about?” She spoke quickly, terror in every word.

“You pretended to be interested in me. The whole thing was a lie because you wanted me to work for you, wasn’t it? Both you and Kemal knew what you were doing.”

“No,” Nazifa cried. “Who told you that? They are lying.”

“I know about your girlfriend, Jasmina Velic.”

Nazifa’s mouth dropped open.

“Tell me the truth. I’m tired of all the lying, Nazifa. Kemal was much more involved in the nationalist movement than he let on. So were you. How I found out is irrelevant. I want to know the truth.”

Nazifa’s mask of shock dropped away to one of resentment. Her teeth gritted together behind her full lips. James’ stomach turned. The mark of the liar who saw no way out.

“Fine, James. It’s true. Yes. I would never love you. Jasmina is my girlfriend. Yes, I used you. People like you, like Ratko, you will never understand. War is our only path to freedom. I had no choice. You were the best thing we had in years. Kemal agreed, too. When we killed Tomislav Suput together, then I knew you were what we needed. But to you, a foreigner, it is a job. You came for money, not to understand.”

James stared stone-faced. The truth cut harder hearing it from Nazifa’s own mouth. During the long ride from Sarajevo, he’d done his best to cling to that last piece of hope that he’d got it wrong. Now it dawned on him he’d never really known Nazifa. He’d known a pretty mask placed over a manipulative creature.

“Get me down,