Wilco- Lone Wolf 18 Read online

  ‘And your aims and desires here?’ the UKSF brigadier asked me.

  ‘We’ll get close and wear them down, sir, small team against small team in the hills, gaining a mile a day if necessary … till they run out of warm bodies. We’ll knock back the core al-Qaeda men, their followers, destroy their weapons and cost them some money. It’s a drop in the ocean in the fight against terrorism, but we have to try.’

  Meeting concluded, private chats were held as tea and coffee was made again, Colonel Marsh keen to get his men in and acclimatised, so I called Prince Kalid.

  ‘Ah, Major, how are you, my friend?’

  ‘Fine, sir, and we are making plans to attack al-Qaeda in Yemen. Some Army units will be with you soon, jeeps and trucks and supplies, so is there a base near the border with Yemen?’

  ‘There is an old base, but the runway is OK, good enough for a Hercules. I already have men there cleaning it up and fixing things.’

  ‘Is it north or south, how close to Wadi Kallam?’

  ‘Not far from that wadi, say twenty miles southeast of it. That will be your entry point?’

  ‘Yes, sir, so have men stationed there, supplies built up ready. And start to look out for spies in the area.’

  ‘Few people live near there, it is tribal land and they know everyone and would not tolerate strangers.’

  ‘Do you have men who know that wadi?’

  ‘Yes, of course, the local tribes move their camels back and forth, there is no border fence.’

  ‘And defectors from Yemen’s civil war?’

  ‘Yes, many.’

  ‘Have them meet me when I arrive, please, good maps to hand. Oh, do you have good jeeps?’

  He laughed. ‘Bought from the British Army! Some from the French. I will make sure that many are at your disposal, fuel to hand.’

  ‘What’s your relationship like with the President of Yemen?’

  ‘We are neighbours, but we do not talk across the garden fence – as you English do. He is a difficult man, and there is no overland trade between us, very little trade at all. But we have gained you tacit approval to enter his land. Fact is … he has no soldiers east of Sanaa and cares little for the land and the people in the east.

  ‘And the second fact is … he is glad that you do his dirty work for him, it will cost him nothing.’

  ‘And will al-Qaeda be a problem for you if we attack them?’

  ‘I don’t like them to be sat in Yemen whispering to the tribes, my people would prefer to see them gone. Here, the people love the monarchy more than Islam, we have very little internal dissent, a very low rate of crime on the global index.’

  ‘Sounds like you are proud of that.’

  ‘We are. Here, kids do not smash up the bus shelters as they do in your Britain, no graffiti on the buildings.’

  ‘My government would not let me shoot such kids,’ I lamented.

  ‘Here we would. Graffiti comes with twenty lashes.’

  ‘We’ll talk again soon, sir.’

  I called Admiral Jacobs next. ‘Sir, can you talk?’

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘I need any Marines that are good snipers, desert brown uniforms, brown rifles. Yemen is like Camel Toe Base, all about the distance shooting.’

  ‘I’ll check uniforms, not sure if they have desert browns, but I can get some sent over. SEALs have desert gear.’

  ‘How many SEALs do you want to commit, sir?’

  ‘As many as possible, got the TV crews on ship ready.’

  ‘Then have them made ready, I’ll find a place they can hold or a road they can cut, but helo operations have to be away from roads and tracks, al-Qaeda have heat-seeking missiles.’

  ‘How many missiles?’

  ‘We don’t know, but they got more weapons recently and are well dug in.’

  ‘We can play chicken with them. Two F18s go in, one low, flares ready, and when a missile is seen by the higher jet the flares are fired and they bank away.’

  ‘Sounds … dangerous, sir.’

  ‘Pilots are supposed to be shit hot at it anyhow, and in a war we’d be up against forces with missiles, so they need to get it down and be ready – or we have to re-write the damn manual!’

  ‘The CIA have the three target camps, that’s where we got the locations, so can you have your people study them, and maybe get some recon photos at altitude.’

  ‘You’ll hit the camps?’

  ‘Hell no, we’ll draw them out. I was thinking … that if the camps don’t house civilians that you could make some noise, keep them awake as we move in. And sir, it will take us around ten days to reach them from the border.’

  ‘You using fucking camels?’

  ‘Jeeps, sir, and men on foot. I expect to meet them half way, small groups of them set up ready to ambush us.’

  ‘Could be slow progress, yeah. What about helos?’

  ‘If we leap-frog, sir, then we miss the men we most want to kill. I’m thinking that some of their best boys will be in the ambush teams, not cooking chow back at base.’

  ‘Good point, yeah – I’d have my Alpha Team on point. I’ll make some plans and get back to you.’

  Miller called at 9pm, as I did the rounds in the barracks and the huts, time taken to speak to the SIS guys. They had been for a run and had got some time on the Valmet, and for all of them if was their first time with the rifle.

  ‘Mister Miller, are you still a free man in a safe democratic country?’

  ‘Ain’t fricking safe in Washington, and as for democratic – we have a perverse two party pendulum.’

  ‘How can I help you?’ I asked with a grin.

  ‘I’ve seen the intercepts about Yemen. You think it will go OK?’

  ‘Only spanner in the works will be the Saudis, and if they can pull a rabbit out the hat – a clever ambush of my men.’

  ‘There have been high level talks, and the Saudi Government does not have you in the frame for killing their man, and their Deep State denies any interest in you.’

  ‘The same Saudi Deep State that was operating under your nose for ten years..?’

  ‘You take no pleasure in taunting us, do you?’

  ‘Some, since you are supposed to be all-powerful.’

  ‘A reputation we’d never live up to. So apart from intervention by the Saudis, you’re confident.’

  ‘What’s your assessment of the Saudi armed forces?’

  ‘They’re crap. They have some good aircraft from us, well-trained pilots with no combat experience and who enjoy an afternoon sleep, and ground soldiers that also like an afternoon sleep. God help them if they needed to fight Iraq or Iran, they’d lose on the first day.’

  ‘And their special forces?’

  ‘Shite.’

  ‘No ability to export special forces and spies into Oman or Yemen?’

  ‘They’d ask us to do it, they don’t like to do things themselves. Saudis have slaves - to answer the phone!’

  ‘So what was that Saudi diplomat going to warn me about, and if you knew would you tell me?’

  ‘I’d tell you, if it was relevant to you, but we don’t know, not yet anyhow.’

  ‘A large pile of dead American soldiers in Yemen is something to avoid, so try and find out about that warning.’

  ‘It is being looked into,’ he assured me. ‘How are the American Wolves?’

  ‘All good men, all training hard. The selection process did the trick, and we got rid of the idiots early on. Good men bounce off each other and perpetuate a good attitude.’

  At 11pm Carlos rang. ‘Hey, Carlos the Kitten.’

  ‘I was about to ask some questions to check that it was really you…’

  I laughed. ‘How are the family?’

  ‘They are fine, and we are pushing back Lobos wherever we find them. But the reason for this call is that tomorrow night their senior men will meet outside Cegali.’

  ‘Ah. Can you get me the exact location, and confirm if they arrive?’

  ‘I have m
en close by, and they know the venue.’

  ‘Get me the map coordinates.’

  ‘Miguel already said you would ask.’ He read them out twice and I wrote them down on a scrap of paper. ‘It is a compound on a hill, a kilometre northwest of a small dam, outside the city.’

  ‘Other houses near it?’

  ‘None closer than 500yards.’

  ‘I’ll see if I can arrange something in time, but I am now in West Africa,’ I lied. ‘I’ll get back to you soon.’

  I called Langley and asked for the Deputy Chief to get back to me urgently.

  He called fifteen minutes later. ‘Wilco, got a problem?’

  ‘What I have … is the Lobos leadership meeting tomorrow night in an isolated compound. You think you could get a stealth bomber?’

  ‘Normally, not a chance, but at the moment … there’s a chance. I’ll send a note to the National Security Advisor now.’

  ‘Make a note of these coordinates.’ I read them out twice. ‘If you can’t bomb them then maybe the Mexicans can do something.’

  ‘Mexicans would sell the intel in a heartbeat and Lobos would be long gone. I’ll get back to you.’

  In the morning I knocked out a few laps before breakfast, a few lads on the track with me, and I was feeling that I needed to be fitter. I was shouting at the lads to get fitter, so I figured that I should be listening to my own advice.

  After breakfast I checked with Rocko about who was doing what, and I assisted with a lecture on trauma first aid to the 14 Intel teams. The SIS team was on the upstairs pistol range, and when I stepped into observe them they were shooting like professionals, some as good as Tomo.

  When they had all been through I shouted, ‘Now do it left handed, your right hand is broken. And yes – the magazine release is on the left, don’t forget. Pistol horizontal, use your left thumb, catch the magazine. Practise, then practise some more!’

  Downstairs, pairs of British Wolves were moving through the Killing House, Crab smirking just before a large rabid dog attacked one of the Wolves, the dog shot dead, but not before it had sunk its teeth into a nice soft leg.

  ‘Come here, you useless fuckers!’ I shouted, my words echoing. They both walked back to the start. ‘Always expect dogs, people keep dogs, and the way you shot that dog you’re lucky you have any toes left. Switch your brains on.’

  ‘Right, sir,’ they offered.

  ‘Does that leg hurt?’ I asked the wounded man.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Tough shit, do it again!’

  After lunch, Franks called. ‘They’ll bomb the Lobos leadership and worry about the consequences with the Mexican Government afterwards, but … chances are the Mexican Government won’t give a shit but make public noises about us invading their air space by twenty miles.’

  ‘There are men in position to confirm the target, and if any civilians are nearby,’ I told him. ‘I’ll double check it.’

  ‘Your buddy Colonel Matthews is running the show, he’ll call you later.’

  I spent an hour telling the RAF facilities officer what to do with the new assault course - just a pity that it was not ready to train the teams now, before I tackled paperwork with Billy, a shit load of stores forms to be sorted, extra kit for everyone, extra Valmet rifles - brown-painted rifles. And we would have twelve extra Elephant Guns to take along.

  The Air Commodore called at 5pm. ‘We got the paperwork from your lot. You trying to do things by the book these days?’

  I smiled widely. ‘I’m a major now, and I have a team, so no excuses for cutting people out the loop.’

  ‘I have 2 Squadron prepped ready, extra medics, two Hercules assigned. Will there be an FOB?’

  ‘Possibly, yes, but it’s in a bad spot and could be over-run. It’s also a rough strip, so we’d need to check it before landing, not during landing. Oh, Omanis have Puma helicopters, from us and from France, so how about some pilots and crew go down.’

  ‘Yes, a good idea, rotate the crews. They have sixteen Lynx helicopters, from us, I know a man who trains them down there.’

  ‘Then contact him, and I’ll ask Prince Kalid to borrow some. What else do they have?’

  ‘Quite a lot of modern kit down there, from us. They still have old Jaguar ground attack aircraft, soon to be phased out, Hercules, a few old Hueys, some French transports. And in the far east is the American Air Force base.’

  ‘What do they have there?’ I keenly asked.

  ‘Refuelling, transport, and a shit load of tents and medics on standby.’

  ‘Tents and medics? I’ll try and pinch a few, get them some good newspaper inches. How’s our Spitfire squadron in Sierra Leone doing?’

  ‘Great publicity, been on the news a few times, but the pilots are all as old as I am, not the most photogenic bunch!’

  I laughed. ‘You don’t have young fighter aces?’

  ‘They all start on the prop aircraft and then advance to Hawks, single engine jets. In fact, we have trainers out in Oman on their Hawks. And they have a ground attack capability if you need that.’

  ‘May well do, since we don’t have a firm plan or know quite where the bad boys have their tents pitched and the camels grazing.’

  He laughed.

  ‘No, really, they move around by camel and pitch tents, some of the fighters. Where we’re going we won’t see another living being - unless they’re shooting at us.’

  ‘You need parachutes?’

  ‘I was about to say no, but your men could do with some experience, so send a team down and I’ll have your instructors drop in a safe place and walk back.’

  ‘A new terrain for them, yes.’

  ‘Pack my chutes, HALO chutes and static line, we might go in that way or leap-frog a position.’

  ‘I’ll sort that this week. And when you get down there, don’t be surprised to find RAF and Army officers there, we have sixty or more embedded down there.’

  ‘Can you get me a shit load of ground-to-air radios, sir, and men to operate them?’

  ‘We have dozens of RAF Regiment men qualified, I’ll grab them – and the radios.’

  ‘And the mobile radar that 2 Squadron uses. How mobile is it?’

  ‘Back of a three-tonne truck, but shake it about across sand and it will break. They’re not so hot unfortunately.’

  I went and found Tinker. ‘I want a shit load of listening devices. We’ll place them as we go in case someone comes in from the sides or up behind us. And here we have the small radio detectors. Check them, get more, we’ll take them. In the desert we would pick up a group of fighters miles away, but it would need to detect a sat phone.’

  ‘Sat phone would need to be switched on, and that’s a different type of scanner. I’ll get a team on it.’

  I called Colonel Mathews.

  ‘Ah, Wilco, we’re getting ready for tonight’s strike on the Lobos, all top secret for now, few know about it.’

  ‘I’ll be awake and calling the confirmation of target, sir. But the reason for the call is your base in Oman.’

  ‘Thamrit?’

  ‘No idea what it’s called. But they have tents and medics?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a storage area. I’ll send a note now, get them warmed up ready. You want some tents and medics on the Yemen border?’

  ‘Yes, sir, if only to get your people there some experience, reporter to hand.’

  ‘They’ll love the chance to do something, it’s a quiet place, dead quiet.’

  ‘Talk later, sir, and factor in the time difference, six hours.’

  ‘I have eight clocks on the damn wall,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Just checking.’

  After eating with the teams I worked out the time difference, and I would be to bed early and up early, the Intel Section night staff tasked with waking me.

  At 2am I was awake, my alarm clock set, and Swifty would be moaning at me in the morning. I opened the door before the MP’s knocked, and they came in for a quiet cuppa as I tried to get my eye
s to focus, a chat about the upcoming operation in Oman.

  In the Intel section I called Colonel Mathews, and for him it was coming up to 10pm, 9pm at the target. Next call was Carlos.

  ‘Ah, Petrov, they are starting to gather, I have a reliable man there.’

  ‘Any families with them?’

  ‘No,’ he scoffed. ‘They keep families well away from work, and many do not have families. They are recruited for their aggression, which does not make for a quiet life at home.’

  ‘They don’t change nappies then?’

  ‘I would not think so, no.’

  ‘What timescale are we working to?’

  ‘They should all be gathered in say … forty minutes. What will you do?’

  ‘Wait and see. And if there are any civilians nearby, let me know straight away.’

  I called back Colonel Mathews and gave him the one hour timeframe. ‘I’ll only call you if there’s a change of plan, sir. No call, all is good.’

  ‘No news is good news,’ he quipped. ‘You have eyes-on for damage assessment?’

  ‘Yes, men in place.’

  ‘Wish us some sharp-eyed pilots and some good weather. Or in this case, wish us a computer that works; pilot will be sat back watching the damn plane fly itself.’

  I paced up and down, the Intel team asking questions, but I was light on answers. The nice lady captain came on duty half an hour later, in need of a coffee, or three.

  In the lounge, I pointed at a pert nipple and stroked it. ‘What’s that?’

  She glanced down. ‘It’s a nipple. Have you not seen one before?’

  ‘Not on you, and not pert.’ I waited.

  ‘I put on the wrong bra,’ she blushed.

  ‘This the one you wear out disco dancing?’ I teased.

  ‘It would have a top over it normally. Stop looking.’

  ‘Me? You’re the one about to poke someone’s eyes out.’

  ‘Oh gawd,’ he said as she stared down at them. ‘I’ll use cellotape.’

  ‘Ouch…’

  ‘Us girls use cellotape sometimes.’ She headed off to find some cellotape and headed to the toilets. Returning, she was less perky.

  ‘Better,’ I said. ‘From a professional point of view.’