Wilco- Lone Wolf 19 Read online

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. Keep getting the phone intercepts. Oh, what happened at HTZ in Holland?’

  ‘Two board members shot dead overnight, one found hanging.’

  ‘That’s … odd, someone cleaning house.’

  ‘You know who?’

  ‘No, and that’s the worry.’ I called Miller's contact number.

  He called back fifteen minutes later. ‘You after me?’

  ‘HTZ? You involved?’

  ‘No, but I got the detail. Dead men don't talk.’

  ‘Your contractors at large.’

  ‘We are looking for them, got a few leads.’

  ‘Here's a lead for you, ship name Cortez III. Your friends might be using it to move guns from Nicaragua to Ivory Coast. But I might be wrong, what I said about North Korea, because the weapons moved recently had no serial numbers.’

  ‘No serial numbers? Only people we know who make them like that for export are the North Koreans!’

  ‘So what’s the deal here? North Koreans ship weapons to the Pacific side of Nicaragua, they get transported east, taken in the Cortez to Ivory Coast, destined for the Congo civil war?’

  ‘Smart move.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Would make it look like the weapons came from Nicaragua not Korea.’

  ‘So how would the North Koreans get paid in oil, and from who?’

  ‘Colombia has oil, and Mexico.’

  ‘But how do you turn blood diamonds into oil?’

  ‘From West Africa, not Central America.’

  ‘So why the hell not just ship weapons direct to West Africa?’ I puzzled.

  ‘All North Korean ships are monitored, they have to transfer ship-to-ship in Chinese waters at night, then again someplace else. A North Korean ship heading to Africa would be followed and boarded. And the North Koreans have to be very careful, who to trust and deal with. Brokers are normally Russians. What are you planning?’

  ‘We'll hit an inland base, your Marines can hit a small port and search it. Hope is to find some Korean weapons or paperwork, or it’s a bust and we'll be embarrassed.’

  ‘Current President of Nicaragua is a woman, and doing a damn good job. She'll be pissed at the North Korean link, but would give you every assistance. She's clean.’

  ‘And the police and military?’ I pressed.

  ‘As dirty as you'd expect.’

  I called Harris and updated him.

  He reported, ‘CIA team here are all scared shitless of things leaking.’

  ‘Their problem, not ours. You sleep OK?’

  ‘That ship's hum goes on all night, but it doesn't stop me sleeping.’

  Tinker called at 5pm. ‘We checked the areas where the HTZ directors were killed, or died, and we got a phone pattern. And we have three men and a woman about to board a flight to Toronto from Amsterdam.’

  ‘Give their names to London to pass to Canada, as well as the CIA. In the meantime, try and get solid evidence, more than just proximity.’

  ‘They called Toronto and Nicaragua.’

  ‘OK, in my mind that makes them guilty, but keep digging, have London check passports and past travel.’

  I called Langley, and the Deputy Chief. ‘Some good news for you.’

  ‘What’s that?’ he asked.

  ‘Three men and a woman, on a flight to Toronto, just leaving Amsterdam. Ask GCHQ for the names, cover names I guess, then check the manifest and meet the plane.’

  ‘That is good news.’

  ‘They called Nicaragua, and they were using their phones close to dead board members of HTZ.’

  ‘Was wondering if that was your boys...’

  ‘No, it was your ex-contractor boys. And girl.’

  ‘I'll be all over this, and we'll meet that plane, but we'd rather have done it quietly.’

  ‘Then tail them from the airport.’

  ‘That makes more sense, yes, but at the risk of losing them – these guys ain't sloppy!’

  I called Colonel Mathews. ‘Sir, we have a plan. Got a paper and pen.’

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘Map reference one, Nicaraguan coast.’ I gave the detail. ‘Map reference two, inland fifty miles, nothing but swamp.’ I gave the numbers. ‘Plan is that your Navy get photos from altitude today, and that your forces raid the coastal location looking for evidence. My teams will go inland at the same time.

  ‘What we do now know is that weapons from North Korea have ended up in the Congo, via a ship, Cortez III, your Navy looking for it as we speak, south of Cuba. That ship was five miles from the target coastal port, so a ship-to-ship transfer was done. Now, we have a wrinkle. Anyone close to you?’

  ‘Hold on.’ I could hear, “Step out.” OK, go ahead.’

  ‘The gun runners are all ex-CIA.’

  ‘What!’ They could hear him in the bunkhouse. ‘The fucking press will crucify us!’

  ‘Then we need to keep that detail out and blame others.’

  ‘Jesus Christ. The fallout will be huge!’

  ‘I'm not planning on arresting anyone.’

  ‘Don't, leave them in the fucking jungle! Shit...’

  ‘Langley knows and is … cleaning house as we speak. We also unearthed a high-ranking British mole working with them. He's in custody. So, you can now make a plan and pretend it’s your show, sir, and use whoever you want for the coastal assault. Maybe the SEALs get eyes-on, them the Marines land, TV reporters to hand.’

  ‘That would be best, the place might be empty, and I don't want a large assault on a beach populated only by turtles laying eggs! When could we send in the SEALs?’

  ‘Tonight, up to you, sir. They won't be seen – we'd hope.’

  ‘I'll make a start on the paperwork.’

  Moran got back with the teams after dark, legs and boots muddy. He reported, ‘Got more ammo, and we all used the range – plus team tactics, then went for a run in the jungle. They say you built that place..?’

  ‘I did. Don't ask.’

  ‘The other day job. And those Russian soldiers, they all dress like us and moved like us...’

  ‘Why reinvent the wheel, eh. Get cleaned up, some food and rest, but keep a stag rotation.’

  ‘When we moving out?’

  ‘A day or so, I have the targets fixed now.’

  Tiny and her mate turned up in a jeep an hour later, both dressed in a sexy black dresses. Tiny teased, ‘You came all this way just to see me?’

  ‘I did, to check-up on you.’

  She lifted her dress, no knickers but a small knife taped to her thigh. ‘For protection.’

  ‘They say to use condoms … for protection,’ I told her.

  ‘Condoms are hard to chew,’ she said as she sat, food ordered, soon filling me in on what they had been up to. It sounded like fun, and not at all dangerous.

  I told them, ‘Keep a look out for Canadians.’

  ‘I know a Canadian accent,’ she insisted.

  ‘Be careful, could be a good team in Panama City.’

  ‘The boys here?’

  ‘Echo plus some Wolves, no 14 Intel save you pair.’

  She grinned at Gay Dave. ‘You know, with your double here we could have a great threesome.’

  ‘I … don't think Dave would like that.’

  ‘I've tried girls,’ he said very matter of fact. ‘Similar, but I like a firm cock.’

  ‘Me too,’ Salome told him lifting her head.

  ‘Rules me out then,’ I told them.

  Tomsk walked in, greeting Tiny like he was her father, and she hugged him. Then she patted his stomach and complained at length.

  I told her, ‘No good trying to get him to exercise, he likes Big Sasha's food too much.’

  ‘I have a treadmill,’ Tomsk insisted as he sat.

  ‘Do you use it? I teased.

  ‘When I can. Anyway, our friend from Canada spoke before they shot him. His group broke away from the CIA, and faked their deaths, and to start they tried to make money, then the
y fell out some and somehow this Hollister in England was involved but he wanted to screw America and Britain, and the others – not so much, they wanted to make money.

  ‘And the captain of this ship, Cortez was with them, because he ran guns years ago and was caught by them – but no prison somehow. He was the one that told them about the coffee ship and its drugs, and the Korea weapons, they never knew.

  ‘So they wanted to steal the drugs from the Bolivian, and at the same time they had a deal with some police in Nicaragua who had friends in the police in Mexico, and they stole a load of drugs from Mexico before the drugs were supposed to be burnt.’

  ‘So there were drugs from Mexico. How big a consignment?’

  ‘He said eight tonnes.’ Tomsk continued, ‘It was transferred ship-to-ship off the coast of Puerto Rico, ship name Harvest, or similar. Idea was to make it look like the shipment sank. And the bomb was put there by them, they wanted it sunk. What the ship's Captain did not know was that the bomb had a thousand anti-tank mines next to it in crates.’

  ‘Enough to make a big bang,’ I noted. ‘So where are the drugs now?

  ‘He doesn't know, this Debonet was handling it. He had a buyer.’

  ‘And the North Koreans?’

  ‘They had been moving guns through Nicaragua for ten years or more, at the start of the troubles there. The ex-CIA men had nothing to do with that at the start but got involved later, contacts in Africa to sell to.’

  ‘And what’s waiting for me in Nicaragua?’

  ‘Some police chief and some army colonel are setting an ambush for you, inland, some jungle place.’

  ‘Any weapons there, Korean weapons?’

  ‘No idea. They transit through. And some Nigerian sends oil to North Korea, ship-to-ship transfer out at sea.’

  ‘And who's in charge of the North Korean shipments?’

  ‘A Russian, with a code name of Catfish. They were never allowed to meet him.’

  ‘Wise man, learn from him!’ I stepped out and called Tinker. ‘It’s me. You said you had the GPS track of the Grenada Star..?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It offloaded drugs, ship-to-ship, off Puerto Rico. Find the other ship, name of Harvest, and track that ship carefully for me, and fast. And where's the Cortez?’

  ‘Still heading south, close to the Nicaraguan coast.’

  I called Franks. Before I could say anything, he began, ‘That ship, the Cortez, its steaming straight for us, we're about to go to General Quarters.’

  I considered the best course of action here, regretting now having labelling it as full of explosives. ‘My intel was inaccurate. It’s supposed to have weapons in crates and mines, not Semtex. And it won't ram you. I need the crew questioned about Korean Arms shipments to Ivory Coast. Could you board her?’

  ‘Sure, we got the SEALs. I'll tell the captain now, before we go to war and sink the damn thing. But will it blow if we board her?’

  ‘I'd say no.’

  ‘You don't sound 100%'

  ‘The crew likes to make money, they're not martyrs.’

  ‘I'll update the captain now, she's close enough to send helos to board her. Hang on, here's Major Harris.’

  I updated Harris on what we now knew, shocking him before I took Tomsk to one side. ‘If we can grab that ship, Harvest, you could get the drugs.’

  ‘Depends on how old they are, they could have been in the Mexican storage place for six months, no good now. I'd have to test it carefully, could be a year since it was processed.’

  ‘But worth something if it was good stuff...’

  ‘Yes, but right now I have too much stock, can't move it.’

  ‘Still, if I get it, I want to make some money from it, for Spectre. Bob there helps me to stay alive.’

  An hour later I got word that the US Navy SEALs had boarded the ship, a destroyer alongside. No explosions so far, the SEALs nervous, and apparently cursing my name.

  Half an hour later and Franks rank. ‘We hit the jackpot!’

  ‘You did?’ I puzzled.

  ‘Ship has ten tonnes of drugs on board, mostly cocaine.’

  ‘Bugger.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My … intel was inaccurate.’

  ‘How accurate can a snitch in these parts be, eh? Don't worry about it. And we found one crate of rifles, AK56 with no serial numbers, so the White House and the DEA and the FBI will all be throwing a party; this confirms it, North Korean guns and drugs – be all over CCN real soon.’

  ‘Brilliant...’ I sighed out, the drugs now lost to me.

  My phone trilled straight away. ‘It’s Running Bear,’ came a distorted voice. ‘We're inbound. You at that villa?’

  ‘Yes, I'll warn them now. But have you got the right villa?’ I shouted.

  ‘CIA said they had a phone fix of where you are sent from London. East of La Palma.’

  ‘Cold beer ready when you get here.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  I told Tomsk to warn everyone, and we walked outside. Ten minutes later we could hear the drone of helos, Tomsk nervous. Two Seahawks set down, men out and running, weapons ready. They formed up and walked over, all smiles as the Seahawks loudly departed.

  I was stood with Tomsk and Frank, Tiny nosing to see who it was, Salome curious.

  Running Bear walked up, all of his men Hispanic in appearance. ‘Where's that cold beer?’ he teased, and we shook.

  ‘You're in the forest tonight, no rooms,’ I told him. I faced Frank. ‘Green Beret Hispanic unit.’

  ‘Not all from Brag,’ Running Bear corrected me. ‘Some from Rangers, Deltas, all sorts. Just needed to be Hispanic to join this team of bad boys.’

  I faced Tomsk. ‘We have rooms?’

  ‘They will have to share,’ he complained.

  ‘We can share,’ Salome told me.

  ‘Only for a night,’ I told Running Bear. ‘We may ship out at dawn for a mosquito infested swamp.’

  His men complained.

  I turned to Tiny. ‘Show him you knife.’

  She lifted her little black party dress with a smile.

  ‘Nice knife,’ Running Bear agreed, his men stood wide-eyed.

  Rooms were found, six men in one large room, and with kit down I sent the men around to the bunkhouse to Moran as Running Bear came in for that promised cold beer and some food.

  He began, his kit down, ‘Navy hit the jackpot with that ship they stopped. President spoke to the ship's Captain on the phone before we left.’

  ‘Intel was sketchy, I was expecting guns on board,’ I told him.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’

  ‘When I have a plane or two, we land on a road east of the target and walk twenty miles through the swamp, get eyes on and then decide.’

  ‘Simple enough. What about surprises?’

  ‘Nicaraguan police and army are laying traps for us, but they don't know when we'll get there.’

  ‘Could stay here a week,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘I have a nasty surprise for those laying the trap.’ I faced Tomsk. ‘Pesticide ready?’

  ‘Yes, that plane can be loaded in an hour.’

  ‘Pesticide?’ Running Bear queried.

  ‘Spray the area, then hold your breath for a few days.’

  ‘Ah, the welcoming committee will be pissed off.’

  ‘They'll be dead,’ Tomsk told him with a shrug.

  An hour later my phone trilled. ‘Passing you over to the Prime Minister.’

  ‘Wilco, you there?’ came from a speaker-phone.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘We got a big thank-you from the Americans, and it’s all over the news, a proven link between North Korean guns and the drugs trade. They know it was your intel, so they're very happy with you.’

  ‘Maybe I'll get a room at the White House for a weekend.’

  I could hear laughter.

  ‘They owe you that at least. Where does this leave us?’

  ‘The Americans will sneak up on a place
on the coast of Nicaragua, probably where that ship was heading, and my men will sneak up on a place inland, might find more Korean guns and maybe some drugs.’

  ‘Well good luck, and it’s looking ugly in Europe, a lot of awkward questions about that drug company.’

  ‘Those that live by the sword...’

  Indeed.’ The line was cut.

  ‘Bugger,’ I let out, and returned to Tomsk. ‘See what aircraft you can get me. Maybe a Hercules, or a Skyvan or Dash-7. It would land on a road in Nicaragua. It’s about six hundred miles from here. And forget the pesticide for now, not enough time for it to dissipate.’

  He tasked his admin team with finding planes as I looked at the map. There was a suitable road, an around dawn it should be quiet. In places the map showed a long and straight, and I doubted there were telegraph poles.

  At midnight I received an odd call. ‘Major Wilco?’ came an American accent.

  ‘Yes..?’

  ‘We met, Liberia, Sergeant Katowski. My team has eyes-on the port, if you could call it a port, it’s a dozen shacks on the trees and a well-built wooden pontoon stretching out six hundred yards, some fast and expensive speedboats and a large boat here.’

  ‘Any hostiles?’

  ‘One guy with an old AK47 and his thumb up his ass.’

  ‘Crates?’

  ‘Plenty, some are empty, some heavy but we haven't broken any open yet. But where these guys left them they can't have anything valuable in them.’

  ‘Why not? Who the fuck would steal them where you are!’

  ‘Good point, sir. I was wondering what you reckoned we should do?’

  ‘Do whatever is best for your TV ratings, Sergeant. Grab all the people there, tie them up, open the crates, and if you find guns or drugs then have the Marines land at dawn, reporters to hand. If it’s a bust, call me back later.’

  ‘Will do, sir. Got some sleepy old spics to frighten, many of them a hundred years old!’

  I called Harris. ‘What did the aerial recon show?’

  ‘Not much, a sleepy village and a long jetty, no armed men, and inland is a village with say ten abodes, several long houses, one road in and out, no weapons seen, no tanks or anti-aircraft guns.’

  ‘OK, thanks.’

  In my room, I found Tiny and her mate.

  ‘We're sharing,’ they giggled.

  ‘Sofa is OK for me,’ I told them.