Wilco- Lone Wolf 5 Read online

  Yuri nodded. ‘But if you do their dirty work ... who would believe it was them.’

  ‘I had a contact, inside, a manager, and I knew of a few Russian spies in England and Europe, so every few months I gave one up, and this guy – he did well. He’s now well placed. I even killed a rival of his, made it look like an accident.’

  ‘What hold do they have over you?’ Tomsk asked.

  I faced him, and took a moment. ‘Only my desire to see my daughter. They get me good papers, keep the Americans off my back.’

  ‘They won’t let your family leave?’ Yuri asked.

  ‘My woman won’t leave, even if she could. She has family, my daughter is in school, she has friends, and she thinks of herself as English. They won’t move if I ask them to. Next year she has exams in school.’ I made a face and shrugged.

  ‘And the reason you came to me?’ Tomsk demanded.

  ‘I didn’t come to you, idiot,’ I told him, Tomsk not knowing how to react by my insolence. ‘When I got here I called my man in London, and he said he would help me in a few months to get back into London, but that in the meantime if I could get any good information about arms shipments he could use it – and then he would get me back into London.

  ‘You were of interest when he knew I was heading south, to La Palma, because of some shipment of arms to England.’

  ‘I never shipped arms to England,’ Tomsk puzzled.

  ‘Some ship called Argos III,’ I reminded him.

  ‘That ship went to France!’

  ‘No, it landed in England and the weapons were found, traced back to you.’

  ‘That fucking idiot of a ship’s captain, he was supposed to offload them in France! So now the British want me?’

  ‘They did, but then I started to hit the Colombians, and they forgot about the arms real quick, they were keen to see the Colombians knocked back. And then when we hit the communists they got very excited, very keen to see us knock back the communists on the border. That arms shipment is irrelevant now.’

  ‘Hitting the communists was your idea!’ Tomsk pointed out.

  ‘Yes, and it means the Panama Government will cooperate, so too the Colombian Government.’ I faced Yuri. ‘I struck a deal with the local government; Tomsk can do what he likes, they’ll leave him alone.’

  ‘So long as you fight the communists,’ Yuri noted.

  I nodded. ‘But it’s grown. Me and my team, we’ve wiped out all the competition around here, killed hundreds of communists.’ I faced Tomsk. ‘Yesterday, the US President sat down with his National Security team for an hour, and discussed you.’

  ‘Me!’

  How I wished I had a camera. ‘Yes, you,’ I said, enjoying his look, and I had made that bit up.

  ‘You’ve become a player in a political game,’ Yuri warned Tomsk. ‘The regional governments want the communists knocked back, the drugs trade controlled. You’re in the hot seat.’

  I faced Yuri. ‘Not safe for you around here at the moment.’

  ‘Not safe?’ Tomsk queried. ‘The Americans, they will come here?’

  I shrugged. ‘I don’t think so, and not legally. But I don’t get memos from the fucking White House, so how would I know.’

  ‘Your man in London?’ Yuri nudged.

  I nodded. ‘He has no love for the Americans. He may get me some warning if they’re planning to come here. But for now, if we hit the communists, they’ll wait.’

  ‘A very dangerous game you’re playing,’ Yuri warned me. ‘Big political players on the world stage.’

  ‘I have little to lose,’ I told him.

  Tomsk was looking terrified. ‘You think the Americans will wait? But then what?’

  ‘Chat to them, find out,’ I lightly suggested.

  Tomsk shot me an incredulous look. ‘Chat to them?’

  ‘My guy in London, he’ll have a name for a CIA contact here in Panama, you could chat to him, strike a deal.’

  ‘A deal?’ Tomsk puzzled.

  ‘They’re just like that local government minister. These fuckers don’t care about right or wrong, they don’t care if we deal drugs and kill people, they care about newspaper headlines and advancing their own fucking careers. Look at the newspaper stories we created for them here, making them look good.

  ‘They don’t give a fuck about what we do so long as they look good. Same for my guy in London; he don’t care what we do so long as his career is moving the right way. So make a deal.’

  ‘How?’ Tomsk asked.

  ‘Simple. You have some poor quality drugs?’

  ‘Sure, some bad batches.’

  ‘Put some on a boat, and some old rifles, and tell me the name of the boat, the route, the date and time it leaves. I give that to my guy in London, he arranges for the ship to be stopped, he gets a good newspaper story, his boss likes him, I get to ask favours.

  ‘You then put some drugs in a boat on the Pacific side, and my guy in London tells the Americans, and they get a good story – but my guy could then ask favours of the Americans.’

  Yuri smiled. ‘And after one good story, they will want another.’

  I wagged a finger at Tomsk. ‘Give the Americans regular good stories, and they’ll leave you alone. They’ll wait.’

  Tomsk considered that. ‘We have plenty of drugs we can lose, and old rifles. If I arrange something quick, you can call your contact?’

  I nodded. ‘And if you give them one good drugs bust a month, well ... they’ll hold off forever.’

  ‘They won’t move on me?’

  ‘If they get rid of you, what happens?’ I posed, my hands held wide.

  ‘The Colombians come back,’ Yuri put in. ‘And the British and Americans don’t get their monthly stories. But once you start to feed the tiger, you’ll always have to feed the tiger – a very dangerous game.’

  I nodded. ‘True.’ I faced Tomsk. ‘How many tonnes can you lose a month without it hurting?’

  ‘We lose many tonnes a month now. Ships are stopped, trucks and stopped. We lose thirty percent at least.’

  ‘If the DEA here get regular tip-offs from you, they won’t look so hard,’ I told Tomsk. ‘You’ll be doing their work for them.’ I faced Yuri. ‘How did you end up here anyhow?’

  ‘After you tipped me off I got to France, then Switzerland, but someone was after me, maybe the Americans as you said, always someone following – and it wasn’t the Swiss or Interpol. So I fled. It’s ... not safe here?’

  I made a face. ‘If we strike a deal with the British and the Americans, this’ll be a very safe spot for a while. Just a matter of them taking the bait.’

  ‘I’ll arrange a shipment very soon,’ Tomsk threatened. ‘Then we’ll see. And you keep hitting the communists, yes.’

  I nodded. ‘That is the one trump card here – all sides want the fucking communists gone.’

  Tomsk took a moment. ‘You could have killed me any time, but instead you have made me very rich. You ... would have reported me about that ship, that’s all?’

  I made a face. ‘They wanted to know who sent it, little more, and I would have gone straight to Bogota if I could. But this game has changed, and you -’ I pointed at Tomsk. ‘- are being discussed at the highest levels around the world; our life expectancy is not looking good. The Colombians want us dead, the communists want us dead, the Americans want us behind bars. I wouldn’t go making any long term plans if I was you.’

  I had my sat phone with me and took it out, and checked my watch. ‘I keep getting this guy’s number wrong, got a fucking Italian restaurant last time,’ I said as I dialled. The dial tone purred into my ear.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Robert, it’s Petrov, calling from Panama.’

  ‘How ... are things ... over there?’ came a very cautious voice.

  ‘It’s hot and sticky, need fucking air con in the jungle,’ I said, accented. ‘Listen, some day very soon my boss will put some drugs and guns on a boat, then tell you which boat, Caribbean side. You get the
drugs bust, and ... then on a regular basis. Worth anything to you?’

  ‘Yes, we’d be ... quite happy with such an arrangement.’

  ‘And if you tipped off the Americans, be worth something to you?’

  ‘It would ... make us look good, yes.’

  ‘Good.’ I glanced at Tomsk. ‘Tell me, you think the Americans will move on us here?’

  ‘At this moment in time ... I would say ... not in the immediate future, they – and we – are keen to see the communists set back.’

  ‘OK, good to know, and if you heard anything ... you’d let me know?’

  ‘It would be OK to use this number, Petrov?’

  ‘Yes, my boss knows about our arrangement. I’ll let you know about which ship to stop, you let me know about the fucking Americans, yeah?’

  ‘Yes, will do.’

  ‘Good night.’ I hung up. Facing Tomsk, I began, ‘He doesn’t know anything about the Americans moving on us at the moment, they’re all waiting for us to do more damage to the communists.’

  ‘We do their fucking jobs for them,’ Tomsk spat out. I nodded. ‘And we make them look good in the papers.’

  ‘Alternative ... is great big fucking aircraft carrier anchored down there,’ I said, pointing at the nearby ocean. ‘Which do you prefer?’

  He took in the black ocean. ‘How the fuck am I supposed to get any sleep? I’ll be dreaming of aircraft carriers and helicopters.’

  ‘Look at this way,’ I began. ‘No other Russian gangster has been discussed in the Oval Office by a US President. You should be proud, you’ll make the history books.’

  Tomsk choked out a laugh. ‘After they sentence me to a hundred years in some maximum security prison, I can read about myself, eh!’

  ‘Do you look good in orange?’ I asked, Yuri laughing loudly.

  The next day, as I trained the men, Tomsk put drugs on a boat, surplus rifles and a few RPG, and sent them off on a ship, the poor captain and crew unaware of the cargo. Tomsk called me, I made a note, next I called Bob, HMS Argyle in the right place for an intercept.

  Bob also furnished me with the name and phone number of the CIA station chief, but I was sworn to secrecy as to where the detail had come from. I punched in the number.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘David Sanders?’

  ‘Yes..?’

  ‘My name is Petrov, I work for a man called Tomsk, down in La Palma. Is it ... convenient to chat?’

  ‘How the hell did you get this number, and my name?’

  ‘It’s Panama, anything can be bought down here. So ... can we chat?’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Got a paper and pen?’

  ‘I do now.’

  ‘Ship’s name is Hamble II, it leaves Panama City tonight bound for Seattle. In the forward cargo hold is consignment 1173-876, drugs and guns.’

  ‘Why the hell you telling me this, comrade?’

  ‘Sign of good faith, and of things to come. My boss wishes good relations with you, so ... you claim to have got this intel, do with it whatever you like, nice picture in the papers for ... the folks back home, yes. We will give you such information every week.’

  ‘Every week?’

  ‘Yes, every week. We are ... happy to strike a deal, a ... compromise. Come down to visit, we will assure your safety, you don’t try to arrest us, no?’

  That night, two ships in two separate oceans – but connected by a canal, were boarded, drugs recovered. It made the news, both in Panama and further afield, the war on drugs seemingly being won, at least set back a little this week.

  The next day, having received a request from the minister, my team drove north of Panama City and staked out a country residence, a huge hotel-like building in plush grounds, expensive cars coming and going. It did not seem like a drug dealer’s lair, and I was wary. I called the minister.

  ‘Minister, the location you gave us ... it seems more like a hotel than a drug dealer’s house.’

  ‘It is used for many things, none of them good. Shall we say ... men who like small boys and drugs visit the establishment.’

  ‘Ah, I see. And you wish it closed down, yet for us to get the blame.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘We’ll do what we can, Minister, but we may take a few days to observe the place. Goodnight, Minister.’

  Phone away, I decided to move in straight away since I feared a set-up, and the more time we hung around the greater the chance of being spotted, the police called in.

  From the tree line, we waited till 3am, the last “visitor” leaving, lights being turned out one by one, and we moved in, a blind spot found and used, my men in single file bent-double.

  A stop, look and listen, and we climbed up a corner that offered alternating stones shaped like a ladder, and we made it to the roof undetected. I was about to try the roof door when a guard wandered around a back of the roof-door access building, and No.2 dropped the man quietly.

  I opened the door and peered down, no sounds emanating from below, and with pistol with silencer in hand I led the men down and to the first floor. There I left eight men and moved lower, no cameras seen so far, which was odd.

  At the second level I again left eight men, twelve following me down, all being very quiet. At the lower level I put my eye to a crack in the door, the stairs dark, and I could see an old guard in uniform sat sleeping. Security here was not that tight, and we had seen only two armed men patrolling the ornate grounds.

  Easing open the door with my left hand, I aimed, stepped through, paused and checked the corridor, then put two rounds in the man’s back. He slid off his chair slowly. Now I could see a camera, and it was pointed straight at me.

  I clicked on my radio. ‘NOW!’

  Moving to the first door, my team running past me, I opened it and burst in, finding a large empty room of high-back leather chairs, checkers boards, bookcases, and no warm bodies. Back in the corridor I heard a few quiet cracks as I moved to the second room.

  ‘Empty,’ one of my team reported as I had a nose, the room being a posh restaurant.

  The radio came to life. ‘Killed ten men on second floor.’

  ‘Killed six kitchen staff cleaning up.’

  ‘Found a dormitory of young boys!’

  I clicked on my radio. ‘Tell the boys to get dressed and then lead them out the front door, tell them to run.’

  ‘Who are they?’ asked the man next to me.

  ‘Rent boys.’

  ‘Eh ... yuk.’

  ‘Petrov, come to the top level quickly, we found something.’

  I headed back to the stairs and jogged up to the top level and along the corridor, past a few bodies, the fat old men in white underpants. At the end of the corridor I was waved into a room, then through to a side room, two local men in smart suits dead on the floor, the room full of monitors for hidden cameras.

  ‘They were filming the old men fucking the rent boys,’ I was informed.

  ‘Ah ... I see now why the fucking Army wanted us here. Collect up the tapes, bag them up, and set fire to the building.’

  Back on the stairs I heard the young boys running out, a small army of them; there had to be thirty of them. On the lower level I met No. 2.

  ‘Any money?’ I asked.

  ‘Some, but not much, and just a small bag of drugs. What is this place?’

  ‘Old men come for the rent boys.’

  ‘Eh ... fuck.’

  ‘Burn it! We’re leaving.’

  The next day I called the Minister from Tomsk’s patio. ‘Minister, it’s Petrov.’

  ‘Ah, how did it go?’

  ‘I have the tapes you wanted.’

  ‘Not I, but ... they are sought by some.’

  ‘You can collect them any time, we have no interest in blackmailing anyone.’

  Tomsk did not look so sure.

  ‘Thank you, I will,’ the minister finished.

  Phone down, Tomsk said, ‘We could have used those tapes against people. Judges an
d the like.’

  I wagged a warning finger. ‘If anyone even suspects we have them, the national police will send five hundred men against us. Nothing we do ... is as dangerous as holding those tapes.’

  He considered that. ‘Best be rid of them then.’

  I nodded. ‘And that fucking minister played us.’

  ‘We’ll have to be careful what we do for that bastard.’

  I shrugged. ‘We keep him happy, he leaves us alone.’

  The next mission would be on the east coast, close to the border, a villa and drug farm to hit. My select team would go in first to have a look around for a day, since it smelt like an ambush. We’d go in by Huey, to be dropped ten miles from the target area, and we’d have a good look around before the rest of the men committed to this next task.

  I took No.2 along, plus six men I trusted to be quiet in the jungle, and after checking kit - jokes exchanged and spirits high, we boarded our ride. I sat on the side with No.2, weapons held on our knees, and we peered down at the jungle as we flew fast and low level. I couldn’t help but smile; I loved this.

  ‘We need our heads examined,’ No.2 shouted above the roar of the Huey.

  ‘What?’ I shouted back.

  ‘You like this as much as me, so we need our heads examined.’

  I smiled back at him, nodding.

  Over the next ridge, an unlucky flock of birds were in the wrong place at the wrong time, shredded by the rotors, feathers flying. I checked the cockpit glass for damage, not seeing any, and we sped onwards.

  Nearing our drop zone I just happened to glance backwards, and time froze. With my eyes wide, my heart having stopped, I watched for a second or two as the missile slowly arced around towards us, a long white tail of smoke in its wake.

  Stomach muscles tightening, I bent double in slow motion, foot on the rail, a hand under Sasha’s arm, and with my eyes held firmly on the missile I leapt out, taking No.2 with me.

  We were slowly falling as well as moving sideways at the speed of the Huey – yet somehow very slowly, eyes full of green treetops, and two seconds later the blast registered. I closed my eyes and turned my head away from the tree I was heading towards.