Wilco- Lone Wolf 15 Read online

  The PM stood, and faced the commissioners. ‘I am hereby formally accusing these two of knowingly and deliberately presenting false evidence, or being complicit in five murders, of conspiracy to pervert the course of justice, and of terrorism on British soil. I want them isolated.’

  The lady all but fainted as the police led them out. He finally faced me. ‘And the next step?’

  ‘Isolate them, pressure them, they may talk. I’m not sure the lady is part of this, but she may know something, suspect something. They have a right to solicitors, so it’s important that the rules are followed, but there are different rules for terrorist suspects.’

  ‘I have a candidate in mind for the head of Mi5, the former Deputy Director of GCHQ had been shortlisted previously.’

  ‘I know him, good man, he has my vote.’

  ‘He’s here in London,’ the PM told me. ‘We’ll chat to him tonight.’

  ‘He needs to go through that garage CCTV, sir, duty roster. They could not have done this without the garage manager being complicit.’

  ‘And the theory of a bomb planted in a service station?’

  ‘They’d have to be the most incompetent team ever, but I saw them and they looked switched on, mean and ready, not about to throw away their lives on a stupid mistake.

  ‘And there were four of them, so easy to have one watch the van when they take a piss, and those men would have searched it. Besides, my gate staff put mirrors under the van, caught on CCTV.

  ‘And what about the police escort? Did they all go for a piss at the same time when they stopped at the services? Phone those two police officers, ask them to make a statement over the phone.’

  He turned to the Home Secretary. ‘Do that now please.’

  The Defence Secretary asked, ‘Why did Mi5 not mention the police escort?’

  ‘A convenient omission,’ I suggested. ‘Are there TV cameras outside, Press?’

  ‘Bloody road full of them.’

  I pulled out my facemask. ‘Trust me; I have your backs if you have mine.’ I waited.

  The PM finally nodded, but did so reluctantly. Outside, I stepped into a blizzard of camera flashes, blinded and disorientated for a moment, no idea how celebrities put up with this. I stepped forwards to the TV cameras amidst shouted questions and I raised a flat hand to quieten them down as I stood in front of the podium with microphones.

  ‘My name is Major Wilco, SAS, and the last few days have seen some extraordinary events; the death of a foreign student studying here, the deaths of men from the intelligence services. Earlier today, two middle managers in Mi5 were arrested and now face charges of supplying incorrect evidence to the Prime Minister during a briefing.

  ‘I can also confirm that the Director of Mi5 has resigned amidst this scandal, and that there will be a far reaching enquiry. At the school in Seven Oaks a teacher tried to kill me, a shot that hit a magazine. He was then shot dead. SAS were on scene at the school for two days, hiding and waiting after we received a tip-off about a planned attack on a foreign student.

  ‘I was given operational control on the ground by the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary, and it was my decision alone not to evacuate the school, not to inform parents of any dangers. I felt it necessary to catch the terrorists, not deter them till a later date. If they had seen any police at the school they would have tried again the following week or the following month. I stand by my decision.

  ‘My men were hidden near the school and they shot dead four gunmen as those gunmen snuck up on the school. None of my men were wounded. We are yet to find the link between the gunmen and the teacher who shot me.

  ‘During my time at the school I received information from a source that suggested members of our own intelligence agencies were trying to kill me, and that the attempt on the foreign student was a trick.

  ‘Fearing the young man being placed with anyone else, I took him back to my base, and we arranged round-the-clock armed security, as well as tea and toast. I slept next to him that night, to be sure.

  ‘Late last night, Mi5 petitioned the Prime Minister to move the boy to a London safe house, and that they be solely responsible for the boy’s security. That permission was granted at midnight last night.

  ‘Around 6am this morning a mini-bus left a secure Mi5 garage without having been searched, four men aboard, the men who were killed later. They drove with a police escort to my base.

  ‘Mi5 have claimed that all four men, and the police, left the mini-bus unattended at a service station. Mi5 have accused the escort police officers of gross negligence, the two officers wounded when the bomb went off.

  ‘We’re led to believe that someone followed the mini-bus, and then attached a large bomb underneath it without being seen. When the van arrived at my base, experienced SO13 police officers used mirrors to check under the van and they found nothing. The van drove around the airfield, and stopped, no one went near it.

  ‘After the foreign student was loaded to the mini-bus, within seconds of its arrival, GCHQ recorded a phone detonation signal near my base. That signal was delayed four seconds, saving my life, or I would not be here talking to you. Mi5 have claimed that a timer was found by Gloucester police SOCO, contradicting GCHQ.

  ‘CCTV footage from my base shows slow-motion detail of the mini-bus exploding, the bomb in the middle of the bus, not under it. We are yet to get to the bottom of the discrepancies on the evidence presented by Mi5. Questions?’ I pointed at a very familiar BBC presenter.

  Over the melee he shouted, ‘Are you claiming that Mi5 agents planted the bomb?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He was shocked.

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘You’ll have to ask them that, at the trial.’

  ‘Was the student from Oman?’

  ‘Yes, son of the heir to the throne.’

  ‘Are Mi5 trying to unseat a Labour Government?’

  ‘Not Mi5, just a few individuals inside it, but yes they are, an act of treason.’

  ‘Did soldiers move to your base without orders, to protect you?’

  ‘They did, and I thank them.’

  ‘Your men are still in Guinea?’

  ‘They’re now back in Sierra Leone.’

  ‘Did Americans fire on civilians in Guinea?’ came an odd question.

  ‘No, there’s no evidence of that, I saw no evidence of that.’

  ‘Why did you not inform the families of the boys at the school?’

  ‘The Prime Minister, all the security chiefs and the police all knew the plan, and no one objected to it. They could have informed the families, I would have no way of contacting the families.’

  ‘Have you been criticized for that?’

  ‘Yes. But I stand by my decision and my plan, to catch the gunmen and not deter them. I will be happy to answer for that in an enquiry, but I will say this. I was appalled and disgusted when some senior figures suggested that their sons were more important than others.

  ‘If I was to rescue a group of kids I would not ask which one came from a posh family or from a poor family on a council estate. One life is worth another, we don’t judge the safety of our children on their pedigree, or if their parents are upper class.

  ‘When a fireman runs into a burning building he does not ask who is well qualified or not, who has rich parents or not, he rescues who he can, all lives seen as important, not just the kids of rich people.’

  ‘Are you a socialist?’

  ‘I voted labour,’ I lied, never having voted. ‘If that answers your question; I came from an ordinary working class family.’

  ‘Do you have confidence in the Prime Minister?’

  It was a very cheeky question. ‘I’ve spoken to the new Prime Minister many times on the phone, when I was in Guinea, and we met for several hours today, and I have complete confidence in him and his team.

  ‘I’ll be voting for him again, and I’m outraged that someone in Mi5 would play god and try and harm the reputation of the new Prim
e Minister, of this country, and of our reputation abroad.

  ‘The Omani boy was used as bait to try and kill me, a cynical and cowardly act, his family and his people deserved better, and they deserve revenge.’

  ‘Should Mi5 be disbanded?’

  ‘No.’ I pointed at him. ‘If one idiot in the BBC is having sex with small boys you don’t shut down the entire BBC.’ That shut him up, the man next to him smiling widely. ‘Thank you.’ I turned and walked off to a million shouted questions and a blizzard of flashes.

  Back inside, the PM was waiting, smiling. ‘Did you vote for me?’

  ‘I’ve never bothered to vote, sir,’ I said as I took off my facemask.

  ‘Next time clean your boots,’ the Chancellor said as he walked past.

  I glanced down at them, mud still from Sierra Leone. ‘I’m a working class Major,’ I insisted.

  ‘We contacted those two police officers, and the van was never left alone.’

  ‘So you have them, sir, keep pushing.’

  ‘New head of Mi5 takes over right now, and he’s already suggested he can get by on two hours sleep, so he’ll be hard at it tonight. And he’s a fan of yours, sung your praises.’

  ‘This will take time, sir.’

  He nodded. ‘Thanks for coming,’ the PM told me, shaking my hand. ‘Where are you staying tonight?’

  ‘No idea, I’ll make some calls.’

  I grabbed the legal counsel, and they informed me that the Director had been on, and could I go to Vauxhall, transport waiting. ‘Any bombs in the vans?’

  They exchanged worried looks before we were led out. Inside the van, one of three, the lady said, ‘Christ, I’m shaking.’

  ‘Don’t worry, it will quick,’ I told here. ‘Unless it’s a small bomb, then we’ll burn slowly.’

  ‘You’re not helping!’ she shouted at me, the shocked driver and escort man turning heads.

  ‘We checked the van,’ the driver told her. ‘Inside and out, came from secure storage.’

  ‘So did the other one,’ she snarled at him.

  The driver and escort exchanged looks, our ride pulling away, and we weaved around angry London motorists and angry London taxi drivers, soon over the bridge and to Vauxhall, a short trip.

  My counsel left me as I was escorted up by Bob Staines’ old assistant.

  ‘You miss Bob?’ I asked him.

  He glanced at me. ‘He’d sort this mess, and these shits. He was a good man.’

  I nodded, not letting on, soon led into the Director’s Office, David and the Director waiting. ‘How’re Tristen and Henry?’ I asked her as I sat, a glance at my muddy boots.

  ‘Like giddy teenagers,’ she began. ‘Not sure it’s something for them to boast about, but Tristen has a new pride and swagger about him, a new confidence, so I suppose that’s good given that he wants to be an officer.’

  ‘As with our soldiers, a managed small war is good for him,’ I told her. ‘Send him to GL4 sometime, we’ll get him on the ranges, teach him how to be a good soldier.’

  She nodded. ‘We were shocked when you stepped out to the cameras, but you’re a polished operator, I don’t think your tone varied a decibel. You sounded just like someone like you should sound, confident and assured, although I think you lost some fans in the BBC with the small boy analogy.’

  I managed a weak smiled. ‘It was off the top of my head.’

  ‘That makes it all the worse,’ she noted.

  David began, ‘You left out detail, which was handy, no mention of Petrov. So how’s the Prime Minister?’

  ‘More resolute now than before, and we scored a victory when Mi5 suggested a bomb attached to the underside at a service station.’

  The Director eased forwards. ‘They sat in front of the PM … and actually said that?’

  ‘They did, and walked right into it. Police said the van was never left alone.’

  ‘Those four Mi5 minders,’ David began. ‘I checked them out, all very experienced, and there’s no way in hell they left the van alone. I have the names of the garage manager, and his staff, we’re looking at them now, but we’re not supposed to.’

  ‘PM won’t mind this time,’ I assured him.

  ‘What did you tell the PM?’ the Director asked.

  ‘Same as I’ll tell you now. Royal Bank of the Netherlands.’

  They exchanged knowing looks and eased back.

  David began, ‘We’ve heard things over the years, but their directors are … too far up the chain. What do you know?’

  ‘That they lost billions to my operations in West Africa, that they were behind the Liberia coup attempt – put down by me. I got the credit. And I’m wondering if a certain General Kibili was their candidate in Guinea.’

  The Director told me, ‘We could never accuse them of anything, half the Ministers in the European Parliament are on their board. You think someone in Mi5 is connected?’

  ‘Without a doubt. The plot against the boy was a trick, to kill me and Casper, and that van bomb was a desperate act, so they’re about to do something, or have done something, that me and my team will spoil.’

  ‘And Casper’s father?’ David nudged.

  ‘If you repeat what I tell you I’ll get very annoyed.’ They waited. ‘The Banker.’

  They both eased back and considered that. ‘He’ll want revenge?’ The Director asked.

  ‘He keeps a very low profile, so … it would be a low profile revenge,’ I told them. ‘But he will assist with the quiet collecting of evidence, and he has vast resources and many contacts in Africa. Question is, do we investigate them, or Mi5, or West African links, or … what?’

  ‘We have to stop bombs going off,’ David insisted. ‘And we protect British interests in West Africa. If they overlap, we do what we’re paid to do.’

  ‘Stop the bombs, stop the man planting the bombs, stop the men supplying the bombs, or stop the paymaster?’ I posed.

  ‘That … is the difficult question,’ she noted. ‘Stopping the paymaster would stop the chain of events, yes, but we’ll not disband that bank or bring charges, and any individual facing charges would get some very great support in his defence, and next year they start all over again. So we can forget the paymaster in this case.’

  ‘How about … I zero in on the security staff employed to run amok in Africa, and kill the little shits.’

  ‘That would be as far as we could go I’m afraid.’

  David nodded.

  ‘And if they bring down a tall tower in London?’ I posed.

  She considered that. ‘Then we’d be hurt badly, and we’d try to get the people directly responsible, not the whole group.’

  ‘That would be an interesting conversation to have with the PM,’ I told her, and she shrunk a little. ‘And without some luck, and my friends in low places, they would have succeeded in bringing down that tall tower. PM is now aware that it has faults, so … that will cost them a great deal of money, and they’ll still want to kill me.’

  David began, ‘We’ll take extra steps to protect you -’

  ‘Stop talking shit!’ I shouted at him, shocking him. ‘You think you could protect me from that group? They could kill any one of us three and get away with it! They’re linked into everything in London, the old boy network and the freemasons, the City of London Corporation.’

  I faced her. ‘They could have your sons killed if you get too close with your enquiries, don’t be fucking naive here. This is the establishment we’re up against, lords and freemason masters. And in the days ahead you may get some old boy telling you a word to the wise, ease back on the investigation.

  ‘So this is what we’ll do, whilst your families are still alive. I’ll have Spectre on it, The Banker and a few others, and we’ll see if we can find a weak spot, the key players, their enforcers and hit men.

  ‘And you two, if anyone suggests that I need reining in, you sigh and agree reluctantly, you agree that I went too far, you pretend to be on their sides, because I won’t
see you and your families killed over this.

  ‘I have Spectre for a reason, and it’s for this fucking reason, here today, to work off the radar and to deal with shits in power.’ I sighed. ‘Leave me to run the investigation quietly, you make soft noises, and don’t … stick your necks out for me. My death I can deal with, your kids … not so much.’

  I stood. ‘Walk a fine line, and let’s hope you’re good play actors. And for all you know the fucking Defence Secretary is having dinner with them right now. You don’t know who to trust above you.’

  I had the vans drop me in Kensington, and I walked the last two blocks checking over my shoulder, getting odd looks from local pedestrians for my uniform. I checked the street outside Kate’s house and rang the bell, the maid recognising me, a glance at my dirty boots.

  ‘Papa!’ came a squeal loud enough to break the windows, and I lifted up my daughter. ‘God, when did you get to be so heavy?’

  ‘Whilst you were away,’ Kate said as she appeared. ‘They eat, sleep, poo and grow. Have you eaten?’

  ‘I could eat.’

  She glanced at my boots. ‘Fresh from Guinea, and one of the TV cameras focused on your boots.’

  ‘Bugger.’ I put down my heavy daughter and she ran off, the maid offering me a rag for my boots. Phone out, I called Donohue as food was prepared, a request made, a firm request. He would have a team outside in minutes.

  Tomsk called as I ate. ‘You are still alive?’

  ‘Of course, not that easy to kill me.’

  My daughter puzzled the language, Kate shooting me a look.

  ‘Rumours started to arrive, that you had been killed in England, at least that Petrov had been killed, but then you were on the TV news there as the soldier, so I relaxed.’

  ‘Listen, The Banker … his son was killed.’

  ‘The man you told me about, I had forgotten. My god, I will have to call him.’

  ‘Be very discrete about the connection. But tell me, did you ever tell anyone?’

  ‘I don’t think so, I forgot myself.’

  ‘Be careful when dealing with any Dutch banks or Belgians.’

  ‘Odd that you say that, there is a Dutch investment company wanting into Liberia.’