Wilco- Lone Wolf 12 Page 3

  Crab suggested, ‘Could be a few drop-outs by the end of the day.’

  As I got to the house Rocko was waiting for me inside with Swifty. He looked worried, or concerned. ‘Problems?’ I asked as I knocked the kettle on and sat facing him.

  ‘Got a problem with my eye.’

  ‘Your eye?’ Swifty asked.

  Rocko explained, ‘As a young Para I had a detached retina, years back, but it’s been playing up.’

  ‘How much ... has it been playing up?’ I firmly pressed.

  ‘Well, I have a blurring on the left side, some days better than others.’

  ‘And just when the fuck were you going to tell me!’ I loudly asked.

  ‘Well ... soon, but I was worried.’

  ‘Worried the fucking MOD would pension you off, yes!’ I loudly told him. ‘They won’t let you parachute with a fucking detached retina, or drive a vehicle. Have you seen a doctor?’

  ‘Been seeing a civvy doctor, he says they could operate, but that the operation might knacker it up a bit.’

  I exchanged a look with Swifty. ‘If London knew you’d be gone, and we’d be down a man. A troop sergeant!’

  Swifty put in, ‘Be hard to cover it up.’

  I sighed, and made myself a tea. Sitting again, I said, ‘If they find out, what’ll you do?’

  ‘Well, not looking forwards to Civvy Street, and with a bad eye I’ll be doing fuck all else. I have some money tucked away, Army pension, but ... well, be a bit odd after all these years.’

  ‘If I got you a desk job here, would you stay?’ I asked him. ‘You’d carry on getting a wage, train the lads.’

  ‘Well, it’s got to be better than being out, but it would be odd to see the lads go off on a job without me. I wouldn’t like it, but ... got be a million times better than being outside. I wouldn’t know where to start outside, or where to live. Home town was Reading, but I don’t know many people there, and I won’t be sitting a pub all day talking bollocks.’

  ‘If you were sat in a pub blabbing ... I’d put a bullet in you.’

  ‘Well ... there’s that as well.’

  ‘Desk job, yes or no?’

  ‘Well ... yes, see how it goes.’

  ‘I can arrange a top eye surgeon for you as well, abroad, might do some good. But knocks to the head would be banned by the doctor, or you’re back to square one.’

  ‘Doctor I saw said that some fancy American hospitals might do something, but cost a lot.’

  ‘I’ll sort something, no cost to you, but we’ll get an opinion first.’

  ‘So what would I do around here?’

  ‘You just got promoted, now a Warrant Officer, you’re the Detachment Sergeant Major, and you’ll work with the Major ... and shout at Tomo a great deal.’

  Swifty laughed.

  ‘Doing that now,’ Rocko noted.

  ‘I’ll explain it to the lads tomorrow, but we’ll keep your eye secret, go explain it to Rizzo in private.’

  He eased up. ‘I always hated all the Sergeant Majors I knew.’

  ‘A good Sergeant Major is always hated.’ With the door closed on our new Sergeant Major, I sat. ‘Figured we’d lose him shot and killed, not like this.’

  ‘Bit of a blow, but he’s put the years in, picked up a few scars. He’s been lucky. Not sure what I’d prefer, lose a leg or an eye. I think I’d lose the leg.’

  ‘Me too.’ I sipped my tea. ‘I was going to offer Hamble a desk job, it would look bad otherwise. We should care more, look after our lads when their wounded. Lassey went off, no contact, a few others.’

  ‘Best not to have contact with wounded men, might depress the lads a bit, make them cautious,’ Swifty noted.

  I sipped my tea and nodded, thinking.

  At the morning briefing I promoted Rocko and handed him his new shoulder rank, many of the lads puzzled, a few stunned by the move, stunned that Rocko would not be on the jobs now.

  ‘Slider, you’re now a Staff Sergeant and Troop Sergeant, get used to it fast. You had an extra man, so now you have eight, Salties kind of in no man’s land. Rocko may accompany us, but he’ll not be on live jobs, he has responsibilities with training and with the running of this place, and assisting the Major.

  ‘Ginger, you’re Troop Captain, now a captain with us, not outside, try and work with Robby. Robby, teach him what he needs to know, I want him soldiering as well as doing the paperwork.’

  Ginger responded, ‘I’ve been making good progress on both fronts. The Major has got me up to speed on the important forms, and I’ve been training hard, done The Factory, keeping fit. I’ll give this lot a run for their money. And if it’s OK, I’ll do the 24hr march today.’

  ‘Good attitude,’ I approved. ‘Rocko is now in charge of Stores, and the Armoury lads, and most everything, under the Major. Sergeant Major, shout at those that need shouting at, or a punch to the head, sort the training, and you can now overview the Wolves and monitor their progress, also the police training, and keep an eye on the regulars using this place, and the territorials.’

  ‘Right, Boss,’ Rocko offered.

  ‘Those of you of a lower rank, address him as Sergeant Major or Boss.’

  Casper raised a hand. ‘I will do the march as well.’

  ‘Fine, show us what you can do.’

  After the briefing, orders issued and courses noted - many of the lads to assist with the Wolves, we met those Wolves on the apron, Crab bringing out his table and chair. The Wolves stood in uniform, webbing on, metal weights in the pouches, the PTIs wrapped up warm.

  ‘Gentlemen, it is now ... just coming up to 9am, it’s stopped raining – for now, and I hope you all slept well. You will now walk around this track clockwise till 9am tomorrow morning, completing as many laps as you can. Not enough laps ... you get kicked off the course. Pace yourselves, but be determined, stop for a piss, drink your water, get more water, have a chocolate bar when you like. Turn to your right!’ They turned. ‘Begin.’

  Inside, the Major began, ‘Bit of a surprise, Rocko.’ He waited.

  ‘He’s picked up a few injuries that are now an issue, but we kept it quiet.’

  ‘Ah, that would it explain it, I would have never believed he wanted a desk job! And I have some news for you as well: I’ve given Colonel Dean three months notice, then I’m off. Some time to sort the family, kids finish school, then we’ll tour the Far East, then New Zealand - I’m in touch with their SAS, and I’ll meet up with Colonel Richards.’

  ‘I envy you, sir, that all sounds nice. And you’ll be damn hard to replace, not that there are any suitable candidates.’

  ‘They will pressure you to step up.’

  ‘Just how the fuck am I supposed to do that when London has me on jobs every fucking week! Intel would never tolerate me behind a desk, so the fucking MOD can argue the case with them.’

  ‘You can still go on jobs as a Major, but it would be very odd, a Major on a rescue getting wounded, and you’d have little time for the paperwork if you’re abroad three weeks out of four, as you are now.’

  ‘Well, we have three months at least. Someone may turn up to do the paperwork.’

  That evening I walked with many of the Wolves, all resolute so far, none striking me as idiots. I walked a lap with Casper, but it was a fast lap, I was stretching it to keep up; he was determined to get a good score.

  In the house, Swifty handed me a tea.

  I began, ‘Major has three months left. Be odd without him, he was there at the start, he came and got me.’

  ‘I knew him from my first day,’ Swifty noted. ‘It will be odd.’

  I sighed. ‘I don’t know, maybe I just don’t like change.’

  ‘High pressure tasking, want to keep the team together, I can understand that. We don’t need to be unsettled.’

  I nodded, and sipped my tea.

  At 4am I was up, dressed and out quietly after a cup of tea, and soon walking with the Wolves in the dark, the base lights on. It had rained overnight, so the men
were damp, but they had plastic combat jackets at least.

  ‘Cold last night?’ I asked a pair as they plodded along looking dead on their feet, their cheeks red.

  ‘Rained, sir, damn cold, but we had the plastic, and wearing them you sweat loads, then the sweat chills.’

  ‘Been there, know what that feels like, yes. Have you been lapped?’

  ‘By three pairs, sir, but not for hours, all kind of settled down now.’

  ‘Keep at it, a few hours to go then a meal, a hot shower and some sleep.’

  I hung back a spot to the next group, finding them positive yet drained. The next group back were some of the men who had lapped the others. And they looked to be in pain. ‘You OK?’

  ‘We pushed it hard, sir, lapped the others six times, maybe more, lost track.’

  ‘How many laps?’

  ‘Lost track of that as well, sir, too focused on pushing ourselves.’

  I waited, and found Casper, but he was subdued. ‘You OK?’

  ‘I was doing well, but now my hip hurts, and clicks a bit. I fucked it as a young Para.’

  ‘You don’t need a good score here to be a good soldier. If you did I would have a problem; too many old injuries, my friend.’

  ‘You still do this?’

  ‘Yes, many times a year, but I don’t let them know how much it hurts.’

  ‘Then I say it is all fine and dandy, no.’

  I laughed. ‘Always hide your weakness, yes. I do.’

  I pulled up next to Henri as he sat at the table with a cold-looking Sambo. ‘What’s the best score?’

  ‘Tiller and Brack-ee.’

  I had a look at the sheet. ‘Tiller and Brace.’

  ‘They are good, they will finish with a good score.’

  ‘And Ginger?’

  ‘He is ... just behind the best group of two men.’

  ‘So either they’re good, or he’s not so good.’

  ‘Their scores will be better than the first Wolves – if they don’t drop. They will be ... three laps more I think.’

  ‘So, we may have some superstars. Sambo, you look cold.’

  ‘I am cold, sir, if I sit still.’

  ‘Go walk with some of the men, chat to them.’ He headed off, but was in better condition than they were. I asked Henri, ‘And Sasha?’

  ‘Pah, he started too fast, went past many, then slowed down after ten hours! Too fast the start I think. But he is doing well.’

  At 9am we halted the groups, a few men walking alone, all spent, none delirious, but a few were a worry, their reactions slow. The lead pair had set a new record, and they would give my lads something to worry about.

  Ginger had set a good number of laps, a good effort for an officer, and he was on par with the best of the previous Wolves, the pair of marathon runners. He now had a day off, they all did. Casper was met by his team, they knew his score, and he had done well, Henri shouting at him in French for not pacing himself. And I could see that Casper was disappointed as they led him away.

  That evening I sat near Casper in the canteen, our assassin tired and subdued. I told him, ‘Get some laps in each day, work on it, then do it again in a month, there’s no hurry.’

  He nodded.

  I added, ‘Pace yourself, and you can probably beat that lot, but some are good marathon runners, they’d beat me.’

  ‘Your body hurts?’ he asked.

  ‘Every day.’

  He nodded. ‘If you are good you get the good jobs, and then you get the injuries,’ he noted. ‘Sasha says it is Selection Destruction Cycle.’

  ‘It is, and it’s been well known in the SAS for decades. So don’t worry about it. You win with your mind, not with your body.’

  With the Wolves recovered the next morning they were on weapons, a day of intensive training, some pistol work on the ranges. Some of these had only ever fired an SA80 rifle, maybe a GPMG during basic training, so they had a learning curve. Tiller and Brace however came from the Engineers, from the 24 Commando Unit, and they knew weapons well enough.

  These two had completed the standard UK parachute course and often jumped in their spare time. Both were twenty-five years old, and both had considered SAS selection as something to tackle in the next few years. They had applied to the Lone Wolf programme because of the publicity.

  I sat with Rocko and told him what I wanted as far as Echo was concerned, and what the problem areas were, and the Major was giving Rocko lessons on forms. Rocko had even trimmed his moustache; he was a whole new man.

  At 5pm my phone trilled, the Deputy Chief at Langley. ‘Can you talk?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, just observing my next batch of Lone Wolves.’

  ‘Yeah, how they doing?’

  ‘Got two superstars already, they broke the previous records.’

  ‘Such men are much sought after, especially now. Reason for the call – Baker in Kenya, and you were right. We gave a former colleague the Q&A, not happy about some of the answers, so a team went to arrest him, but the man blew his own brains out.’

  ‘Closes that chapter then.’

  ‘It does, but disappointing that it was one of ours. Apparently the man had drink and drug issues that he managed to keep quiet. On another matter, do your friends in low places have any clues about our dead Saudi in Zurich?’

  ‘Do you want me to ask?’

  ‘Yes, please do, we are under pressure from the White House and they’re under pressure from the Saudis.’

  ‘Odd, given that some believe that man Saudi not only funded the attack on Desert Sands, but ordered the attack himself.’

  ‘We’re keeping a lid on it, and the Saudi Government is firmly on our side in all areas, yet ... have a reluctance to discipline some of their own people.’

  ‘How long before al-Qa’eda bring down a plane? And then what’ll you do, just ignore the paymaster?’

  ‘We walk a fine line, and you know the influence they have on us.’

  ‘World’s superpower, eh.’

  ‘See if your friends know who killed the Saudi, please.’

  ‘Will do.’

  My next call was Bob as I stood on the apron. ‘It’s Papa Victor.’

  ‘No.1 here,’ he mockingly replied.

  I laughed. ‘You have to get the sinister accent right, then a pet cat. Listen, create for me three names, all East European names, then sit with Leon and start to create legends for these imaginary men; home towns, family, schools, the works. Then have someone go back and alter some old documents, make these men real enough. I’ll have other agencies create old trails for them.

  ‘Do it fast, No.1, make a start. And you should have access to the bank account details soon. Create another false ID, a Frenchman, through Leon, and he will own a house or two, have the bank details, etc, so that man is your banker self, a long standing and good fake ID. When you have it you get the bank details.’

  ‘I’ll get on it, have a think, go have a look at some old gravestones in Moldova maybe and get some names. Dead soldiers are always good for that, especially if they drowned on holiday and no body was ever found.’

  ‘You’re not some sort of spy, are you?

  He laughed. ‘Yes, and it will say so on the door – when I have an office with a door.’

  ‘Get to work, and call Tomsk about a man in Belgium who will join you.’ I detailed Tomsk’s phone number. ‘That man will help with back stories for our three men. And Bob, you have a herculean task this month, you have to find someone to blame for that dead Saudi.’

  ‘Did ... someone you know do it?’

  ‘Tell The Banker he has a vested interest in putting blame elsewhere. He will understand.’

  ‘I’ll see him tomorrow.’

  ‘And No.1, I think that chap called Bob who was kicked out of London Intel needs to die, a body found, his service pension stopped of course.’

  ‘Well ... yes, if we want the link broken. But I’ll get the value of the pension?’

  ‘Yes, most definitely, and medi
cal bills and more; there’s a hundred million quid in the kitty. Whatever your salary was before, you can pay yourself that, plus all expenses, cars and houses and travel, and I’ll make sure you get a lump of cash equivalent to your pension. So relax.’

  The Wolves moved from sore feet to sore fingers, many of the world’s weapons to master, then to strip and re-assemble and to fire. Tiller and Brace did well on the rifles, less well on the pistols, few British Army enlisted ever men spending much time on pistols, some enlisted men never touching one in their careers.

  On the second day of rifles they were onto the Valmet, eight hours of hard work, a few simple processes over and over ... and then over again. Firing from 500yards, we had a few stars, three lads on par with my snipers. I stood behind Tiller and Brace and dispensed useful advice, and then had Nicholson spend time with them.

  David Finch called that evening. ‘We have a problem. Our rapist struck again, last Sunday, nearer to Hereford than to you, but the same M.O.’

  ‘And forensics?’

  ‘Not so far, but I’m widening it to national search of similar incidents, we might get lucky.’

  ‘This latest incident doesn’t point to one of mine, unless we consider the regular SAS with me, or territorials.’

  ‘We’re looking at them all.’

  ‘And if you find him?’

  ‘Well, I think we’d like to avoid a public trial.’

  ‘That we would, yes. And we’re now far better equipped to avoid a public trial.’

  Call ended, I was worried. Worried to think that one of my lot was our rapist, and that the publicity could destroy us, destroy all the good work done, all that we had achieved. There was no way this man was going to stand trial; he’d get a shallow grave someplace.

  But then I stopped to consider if one of mine could be our man, and a shiver went through me. How would I deal with him, I knew them all like brothers?

  With many of the Wolves on map reading the next day, I had four of them separated since they knew how to read a map, and Tiller and Brace - and two lads called Grant and Lindon, were handed to Tomo to work on the pistol range, but with Crab observing. I had Ginger join them since his pistol work was not fantastic. He was good, I wanted him better.