Wilco- Lone Wolf 16 Page 4

  ‘I keep all my records, hidden.’

  ‘Go blow the dust off, tell me who the contact was and who paid.’

  ‘OK, but it might take a few days. And these missiles?’

  ‘Dealt with, men dead and buried, some being tortured as we speak. Your aircraft are as safe as I can make it around here, which is not very safe.’

  Mike Papa called next. ‘The new warlord at the mine is holding out for a better offer, and when I mentioned that my good friend Petrov was close by he threatened to capture you for the reward.’

  ‘Capture me? Capture me! He insults my reputation like that!’

  ‘He does not know you well.’

  ‘He will do soon.’ I cut the call and called Nicholson. ‘Listen, how many boys you got with you?’

  ‘Platoon of Seals, they’re switched on, and now two troops of Wolves, a mix, Mitch is here, Henri and Sasha.’

  ‘Henri and Sasha got themselves up there, eh? OK, listen, expect a hundred rebels to come looking for you five minutes from now. Kill them all, damage jeeps at the mine, hit guards at the mine, but don’t cross the river. Get ready.’

  ‘I’ll tell them now, but we have a brew on.’

  ‘Finish the brew first.’

  I walked inside, my legs tugging, and updated Moran. He updated the board and then gave a sitrep to Captain Harris, so Harris would update his own boards in the Intel Room at GL4. Next, Moran called the airport and asked for a Chinook with medics on standby, and he readied jeeps with a rescue team, the medics here on alert.

  ‘You’ve done this before,’ I noted.

  ‘I observed you,’ he cheekily told me. ‘But, you know, I’d not be so dumb as to knock up the same woman twice.’

  They laughed.

  ‘Cheeky fuck.’ I quietly added, ‘She got me drunk and took advantage.’

  ‘Of course,’ Moran agreed with a sympathetic nod.

  Outside, I chatted to the French 1st Battalion lads about Paris - all of them scathing about the DGSE and their own government, before I wandered along to see Dicky putting 14 Intel through their paces. He had them moving in squads of four, covering formations, then dragging a wounded man – in this case a wounded Tiny.

  A roar, and I turned with others, soon walking slowly across to our stricken Chinook as it wound up its rotors. Two dozen RAF types stood nearby, a dozen red fire extinguishers at the ready.

  The Chinook thundered a drone into the trees for five minutes before it gently lifted up and slid sideways. Sat for five minutes at full throttle but going now fast, it finally lifted up, arse end up, and it loudly slid down the strip.

  Climbing, it flew in a tight circle around the FOB, disturbing the wildlife, two laps and down, RAF lads running aboard with bags, and off it departed, heading west.

  The young RAF officer strode over to me. ‘Tough old bird, sir. Just needs some paint, new windows.’

  ‘I might need it soon.’

  ‘We’ll certify the helo today, sir, then she can fly – windows or not. But there are three French Pumas used for supply runs as well.’

  Later in the day, Colonel Mathews called. ‘Wilco, we got permission to hit that runway.’

  ‘That will set them back a little, but I’m holding off a ground attack. They have thousands of Ivory Coast soldiers hidden in the trees near that runway.’

  ‘We could … accidentally drop a bomb on them.’

  ‘They’re just enlisted men, sir, being told what to do, innocent men.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right, they’re not the decision makers. We’ll tear up the runway, after which those soldiers should go home.’

  ‘I think, sir, they’ll run home when they hear the noise.’

  ‘Dawn tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, sir, your Seals will see action in minutes, up north on the border, a gang of blood diamond sellers. Spin it in the press your side, the mining gangs are bad men, so no need to be nice in describing them.’

  ‘I’ll release something later, send it up the line now.’

  The drone of Hercules had us out looking, two USAF Hercules circling before lining up. The first down off-loaded two troops of 1st Battalion French soldiers, heavy bags lugged, followed by more Seals, finally Green Berets, a pallet pushed off.

  With the pallet on the side of the strip the second Hercules landed, two troops of regular SAS, “D” Squadron, plus a group of twenty-five British Paras pushing another pallet – all in desert browns unfortunately.

  I directed the men towards tents, and we had just about enough space because most of the lads were out on patrol, some of the rooms in the building utilised – and the French manned a permanent flysheet camp south anyhow, space for forty men. It even had a metal cooker at its centre.

  Problem now was one of being attacked, mortars or rockets. But if a mortar wounded Americans here I would not be that upset, because like Churchill in the last war I now wanted an excuse to get the Americans in this war and on our side, knowing that the bank would not dare attack them.

  Bob Staines called as I observed a long line of hungry men queue at the mess tent. ‘Some news. I’m not completely sure I agree with it, but Leon hit Bastion Defence Services offices in Belgium, a dozen civilians wounded, four senior staff killed, building on fire, TV news going crazy.’

  ‘I’m not sure I would have agreed with it either. Who’s likely to get the blame?’

  ‘A South African, who blew himself up at the scene. Of course, he was drugged up at the time, but his body and ID will be found.’

  ‘I think the NordGas blast was American Deep State, the Zimbabwe guy was the cover.’

  ‘They’re getting aggressive, a stiff message sent to others in the bank.’

  ‘Yes, so go find a link to Zimbabwe and drop it to the Belgian police. Then have a friendly reporter tie up NordGas with Bastion and others, and Maddocks and Bob Littlewood, and cite West Africa.’

  ‘There is enough of a link now, in the media.’

  ‘Oh, was Rene Bastion killed?’

  ‘No, but his brother was.’

  ‘Ask Leon if he’ll cooperate with the planning - on such risky ventures. Do you think … he’s lost in his sorrow?’

  ‘He seems OK, determined and a little angered. He’d like to know who wanted his name carved into Casper.’

  ‘He’s not going to find that out if he kills them!’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What evidence do they have about the Antwerp computer attack?’

  ‘Rough description of a getaway driver, false plates, rough description of Leggit – who had a fake beard on, and very little else. They know that Velmet long casing Teflon rounds were used, and that tracks back to you and French Echo, but I checked the Valmet advertising blurb and they sell many long casing rifles to America, and they’re popular in Africa – labelled as Elephant Guns of course.’

  I smiled. ‘They’d bring down an elephant, yes.’

  ‘What are you up to down there, besides dodging missiles?’

  ‘We’ll move into Liberia and have a think about the foot soldiers left in Ivory Coast, Kruger maybe, Van den Block for sure. But they set a trap, so I’m being cautious. Oh, get Malon Ubel on the case and see if he can buy some missiles. I want to know the source, but buy them and send them to Monrovia.’

  ‘I’ll prep him ready.’

  An hour later Swifty called. ‘You still alive?’ he asked me.

  ‘Yeah, and my balls are fine.’

  ‘You were hit in the balls?’

  ‘I mean, my sperm is fine, and … it works.’

  ‘Kate? She’s … pregnant?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Oh. Was it … planned?’

  ‘Yes. She suggested that I donate some sperm before I get killed.’

  He laughed. ‘Did you get dinner first?’

  ‘I did, yes. You at that mine?’

  ‘Been moving around it, big fucking thing, a few tracks in and out, some paths. We just found a set of tracks, soldiers in boots, say ten of them. The
y came in from the north, made camp in the treeline, left the same way roughly. Day ago maybe.’

  ‘Workers in that mine?’

  ‘Yeah, fucking loads of them, trucks and jeeps. What they doing?’

  ‘Making it nice for when we move there, piano bar and swimming pool.’

  ‘We’ll take over this place?’

  ‘Yeah, and it’s got a long runway.’

  ‘We saw the road yeah, looks odd, kind of white concrete, and it stretches out as far as you can see.’

  ‘How close is the town?’

  ‘Mile or two, we could see houses on a hill, but none of the villagers have been wandering around this place, it was stripped clean long ago.’

  ‘If you do see anyone from the village, scare them off without showing your white faces. In the meantime, don’t be seen, and look for more tracks, and look for an OP – their OP full of their bad boys.’

  ‘You think there’s one around here?’

  ‘Maybe, and the building work will attract interest. Stretch with you?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s up the hill north keeping an eye out. There’s a well-worn footpath going north, and someone camped out there next to a stream recently, enough cigarette butts for twenty men.’

  ‘Cigarette butts? How professional of them.’

  ‘Guinea blacks, usual rabble.’

  ‘Stay sharp, you will find a patrol or two.’

  ‘I got Tiller and Brace, both shit hot, and two American Wolves, and they read the ground like you. And Smitty is here.’

  ‘How’s his wrist?’

  ‘Still bound up, still twinges now and then.’

  ‘I’ll see you there in a few days. Stay put.’

  A roar of helicopter, and I looked up and around with others, a grey Seahawk coming in. It set down on the strip, Franks and Dick emerging with heavy bags, plus the same two US Marines Press officers from Conakry.

  I shook Franks’ hand. ‘What you here for, some time out of the office?’

  ‘We’ll hit Ivory Coast in the morning, White House is all gung-ho at the moment.’

  I nodded at Dick, then welcomed the Press officers. ‘Wanting more loud noises, gentlemen?’

  ‘Wanting a two hour special,’ the major quipped.

  ‘Come inside.’

  I found them space to bed down before we all attended the map board. ‘Up here, on the northern border, is a resurgent warlord mining the blood diamonds and up to no good. Your Seals and my men will – well – they’re probably already in contact with them by now.

  ‘Over here in Liberia is a new base we’ll adopt, an old mine with a good runway, at least I hope it’s a good runway - we have experts on the way to check it. We also have rebel patrols from Guinea taking a sneak peak at the new base, so there will be some action.

  ‘That new base will be the seat of operation to quell the area and to protect new oil drilling operations, to protect those oil operations from any Guinea rebels. Our governments want the oil up to fund a welfare programme here, as well as to get some oil to the folks back home of course.

  ‘Also, if various western interests are pumping the oil then those interested in starting a coup in these parts will have no reason to start a coup in these parts.’

  The Press officers puzzled that.

  I continued, ‘We’ll move over there in a few days, set a bait trap like Camel Toe Base and see who comes out to play. That, gentlemen, will get you your two-hour special.’

  I left the Press officers to look around and to ask questions as Franks led me outside.

  ‘You seen the news, NordGas and Bastion?’ he began.

  ‘Yes, and both were … not what they seem, Zimbabwe getting the blame.’

  ‘Who?’ he puzzled.

  ‘Your Deep State buddies,’ I lied, but only partly lied.

  His eyes widened.

  ‘I guess you’re not in the loop again, so keep that to yourself.’

  ‘How’d you know it was them?’

  ‘I met them, they now give me direction.’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘You shitting me?’

  ‘Nope, they came and we had a chat. They have a use for me, and they’ll try and take over the bank. They killed Lord Michaels and some of his sub-contractors in London, so I owe them. And since they shut down your investigation into the bank … they’re higher up the food chain than you.’

  ‘You still planning on cooperating with us, and the Deputy Chief?’ he worried.

  ‘Of course, all one big happy family. And should your boss capture and kill Deep State and assert his authority…’

  ‘Ha,’ Franks let out.

  ‘Then what would you recommend … that I do?’

  ‘Walk a fine line, like me.’

  ‘Then we shall both walk a fine line, smile nicely and nod our heads at the right time. And keep our mouths shut.’

  He nodded, thinking. ‘This base in Ivory Coast?’

  ‘It’s a trap, so they can sit and stew. I’m playing my game, not their game.’

  ‘And the game plan here is..?’

  ‘Quell the area, get the oil boys in, stop further interest in this place, then move on to places like Yemen.’

  ‘Yemen?’

  ‘Mossad want my help there.’

  ‘Mossad? When the hell did they start asking you to do things?’

  ‘Recently. I said no, that I was busy, but my government does want me to assist them.’ I held my hands wide. ‘And hitting a training camp in Yemen for them or for you, what’s the difference?’

  He blew out. ‘Lot of fingers in the pie.’

  ‘All one big happy family, eh.’

  ‘And you know how families argue.’ He stared at Tiny as she walked past. ‘Who…’

  ‘14 Intel, I’m training them.’

  ‘She’s a … a what?’ he puzzled.

  ‘Field recon, Army, but also undercover work, irregular intel gathering. She seduces men then kills them.’

  He cocked an eyebrow at me. ‘She seems well suited.’

  ‘She is, and hard to resist.’

  David called as we observed Tiny’s neat arse walk away. ‘You’ve seen the news about Bastion?’

  ‘I did, yes, and I have expressed my worries to The Banker, his doing. Still, Zimbabwe will get the blame, a dead South African bad boy on scene and all blown to bits.’

  ‘Bastion is linked to NordGas, so the media will put two and two together. Fortunately, Zimbabwe will get the blame, but the European media will be going crazy.’

  ‘They’ll join the dots soon enough, and tomorrow at dawn the Yanks ruin someone’s runway down here, someone also linked in. NordGas have men and assets at that runway.’

  ‘You’ll try and grab some of the men there?’ David asked.

  ‘No, it’s a trap, and they’re being very clever, so I have to be even more clever.’

  ‘And … how exactly will you beat them?’

  ‘By ignoring them. They can come to me. We’ll have a new FOB inside Liberia, the flags raised.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’

  ‘Yanks are here with their Press officers, wanting some footage, so I’ll get them some footage. I’ll then cleanse the area of gunmen, ready for the hairy-arsed oil workers.’

  ‘You’ll need to open bars and brothels for them,’ he joked before he rang off.

  Holding the phone, I smiled. And called Tomsk. ‘You awake?’

  ‘Yeah, been up a while.’

  ‘Listen, when the oil workers get here they’ll need somewhere to drink, some hookers, somewhere to spend some money.’

  ‘Ah, yes. I’m good with that, I can ship in hookers, these blacks all have AIDS.’

  ‘You have some planning to do. Pukha.’

  Rizzo appeared at my side, no webbing or rifle.

  ‘How’s the arm?’ I asked.

  ‘Stings like a bitch still.’

  ‘Give it time.’

  ‘Boring, just sitting around.’

  ‘Teach some of the foreign boys, ju
st don’t use that arm, or … you could get yourself a well-earned rest.’

  ‘Not good at just sitting down. This new guy any good, Monster?’

  ‘He’s Rocko’s twin, and just as good by all accounts.’

  ‘Big strong lad, aye.’

  ‘So train him, brief him on the past jobs here.’

  He nodded. ‘Lads in action up north?’

  ‘Diamond mine warlord. And in a few days we move to a new FOB in Liberia, up north, raise the flags and see who wants to come shoot at us.’

  ‘I’m in on that?’ he worried, worried at being left out.

  ‘Yes, just shoot with one arm.’

  ‘All that bollocks in London sorted?’

  ‘More or less, yes. Many of them were killed, some grabbed and flown to Oman. They tortured a guy in Oman, hung him, then shot him, left him dangling. He’s still there.’

  ‘Fuck, in that heat he’d be a bit ripe.’

  ‘Very ripe.’

  ‘These 14 Intel girls are fucking tasty,’ he noted.

  ‘More to come. The Wolves will become No.1 Field Recon Company, under the Army not the SAS, and 14 Intel will have two troops in it probably. Echo will stay as it is and be separate, but side by side.’

  ‘The Wolves are good lads, no attitude, fit. And those fucking Yanks, they think they’re Davey Crocket. They read the ground like Indians, and shoot and eat animals. They don’t need no survival training.’

  I smiled widely. ‘Game poachers make good soldiers, eh.’

  ‘Fucking right they do. Odd though, when they say stuff like Pa taught me.’

  ‘Did your father teach you anything useful?’ I teased.

  ‘Fuck no, he was in and out of prison, or drunk.’

  ‘My good old Uncle Richard would say: Michael, if someone is giving you shit, sneak up late at night with a black balaclava and smash their legs with metal bars.’

  Rizzo laughed. ‘You took his advice then.’

  ‘I did. And he paid an older girl to teach me about sex. I miss him sometimes. And Smurf.’

  ‘We lost some good lads that day in Bosnia, Bob and Mickey, Tabby. You dream about it?’

  ‘No. At least, I don’t remember my dreams if I do.’ I faced him. ‘Don’t be in a hurry to get back out there, Staff Sergeant, you’ve done your time, proved your mettle, so relax, eh.’