Wilco- Lone Wolf 16 Read online

  ‘Ah, OK, good. These men from Guinea..?’

  ‘Will be hunted down and killed in a few days. No oil workers will see them.’

  ‘I spoke to these people Atlantic, offices in Ghana, and it was as if they were expecting my call. They will send an advanced team tomorrow.’

  ‘Good, look after them please. Oh, while you’re on, the British soldiers will train some of your men. Select the best hundred, but make them young, fit and keen men, not old sergeants.’

  ‘I will put together a group ready. Who will contact me?’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ll use my other name.’

  ‘Other … name?’

  ‘They call me Major Wilco.’

  ‘Major … Wilco? He is the famous British soldier from the fighting here…’

  ‘Yes he is, and he looks just like me,’ I teased.

  ‘He looks like you?’

  ‘He is me,’ I teased. ‘We are one and the same. Some days I am Petrov the wanted Russian assassin, some days I am Major Wilco British Army. One and the same man.’

  ‘Petrov is…’

  ‘Not a real person, he was created to allow me to kill people without blaming the British Army I work for, and to move unhindered around the world.’

  ‘My god. And Mister Tomsk..?’

  ‘Knew all along, and gets protection, as you do and will continue to do.’

  ‘My … god, the world of secrets beyond the real world.’

  ‘Indeed. Business as usual, so relax. We’re hoping you’ll live to a ripe old age, rich, happy and healthy.’

  ‘I … I need a drink. And my Russian man here, he is convinced you are Petrov.’

  ‘They all are, so don’t tell him yet, it will be good to see the look on his face. And you can claim to have known all along. But outsiders should never know.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Now I … I need that drink.’

  Smiling, I cut the call and fetched my hidden tin of pears, stocked up my webbing and topped up my water, Salome stocking up a backpack with supplies, and I made sure that the green rubber mats would be transported.

  The first Chinook loudly touched down, the trees and bushes bending away from it, a few men from Echo running aboard with eight Wolf recruits, 14 Intel, plus all of the “D” Squadron men, two troops. Since the windows were intact this must have been the second Chinook stationed down here, I figured.

  I went forwards and knelt, headsets on, and gave the coordinates, a short flight - and I reassured the pilots about missiles. I then needed to reassure myself, not 100% sure if there were any more missiles out there.

  Lifting up, arse end up, we sped down the strip and over the river, banking left and heading northeast, a short ten minute flight low level and high speed. From the flight deck I told them to land close to the building, and we bumped down at the start of the road, no dead bodies seen – so they had been moved by Swifty. But I could see blood.

  Men, and ladies, ran out and knelt on a sandy white-brown dirt, some looking nervous. I walked out, cocking my weapon and scanning the treeline as Swifty came out of a building.

  With the Chinook loudly departing behind me, I shouted, ‘All secure?’

  ‘No one at home, boys are searching it, big old place. Workers left their packed lunch.’

  I turned and shouted, ‘Get inside! Fast!’

  They ran past in teams, many lugging heavy bags. With them all past, a shiny-faced Tiny smiling at me, I stood tall on a low stone wall as Salome stood taking in the place. Obviously my orders were not for her.

  The treeline was north two hundred yards across white-brown dust, some ditches and some old rusted equipment in that white dust, and behind me the odd white-concrete road stretched out, looking just like a runway. In the distance the trees grew close to it, but here the treeline was far enough way to avoid an ambush.

  Turning right from the odd optical illusion - of a road come runway stretching out forever, I could see a slope down and dense trees further out, bushes and slag heaps lower than the road surface, the mine sloping down, and from the road to the river had to be a drop of two hundred feet or more, and a mile distant.

  I could see a track winding down around the mine to the centre, that centre offering a lake of white water, some chemical in there and not looking good for swimming in. Near the water sat a few huts, some old equipment, and not much else, the slag mounds mostly white, some grey.

  Down by the river sat a row of wooden huts, a few seemingly concrete, appearing to be some sort of old accommodation area. The dark brown river meandered slowly past those huts, about fifty yards wide and strewn with reeds, beyond it tight jungle, but further out I could see harvested squares cut into the trees. Somebody was farming the area.

  Above the river sat gentle undulating hills heading east, south and west, even a few abodes seen to be sat isolated. Turning right, the large mine climbed upwards, a road at its edge before a dense treeline, coming back up and around to the buildings.

  In front of me sat a large single storey building of what would have been painted concrete, now peeled and bleached-white concrete seen on the lower half, a flat roof. This building gave way to a three-storey building with two large windows across each floor, a uniform square building in shape, and beyond that sat dilapidated wooden huts in rows, some burnt down.

  Beyond the huts sat three large sheds with roofs and high walls, but they had been installed without lower walls - same as at the FOB, two rusted old conveyer belts seen beyond them.

  I stepped to the door with Swifty. ‘Get your team, get to that hill you told me about, report the patrols coming this way, we’ll swap with you tomorrow.’

  Inside, I shouted for “D” Squadron, and they grabbed Bergens and piled out in a line. I led the troop sergeant to the edge of the mine drop off. ‘See those huts down there, they’re yours, guard the south side, patrols west into those trees. If you can get across that river safely, patrol the other side. We’ll have jeeps here in a day, plenty of supplies for you, medics will be up here. Got my sat phone number?’

  He wrote it down.

  ‘Use radios on a different frequency to us, shout if there’s trouble, but the rebel patrols come in from behind us here. Move out.’

  They kicked up white dust as they headed down into the mine.

  Inside, I told 14 Intel to sit and wait, but to man windows, aiming north into the treeline. ‘Look for black faces, don’t shoot at white people or men in green facemasks!’ I shouted, my words echoing down the bare concrete corridor.

  They were sat on fold-out chairs that had been abandoned in a hurry by the workers, some sat on bags of sand and cement or old metal tables, Dicky soon getting them organised.

  I found a central corridor with rooms left and right, many rooms offering old wooden doors, those rooms nearest the entrance door containing sand and cement and tools, glass panes leant against the walls, and wooden panels. The walls and floors were bare white concrete, the ceiling the same, and it looked like it would stop a 7.62mm round.

  The second Chinook roared in so I walked swiftly outside, men waved towards me, the Greenies – plus our Press officers with Max.

  ‘On me, bring your kit!’

  I led them around to the three storey building, Stretch and his lads inside and exploring as much as searching. This building was a sand colour, and had faded writing on the walls. I could see the Viking logo, and my eyes widened at the Bastion Defence Services plaque.

  ‘Stretch, this building secure?’

  ‘Nothing found.’

  ‘Go search outside for booby traps. Max, go into that main building.’

  Stretch led his team of Wolves out as I led the Greenies in. ‘Dump kit here, watch the tree line north! Senior men on me!’ I led them up to the top floor, clattering as we went, the windows broken.

  From up here we had a good view of the surrounding area, and now I could see over the treeline north, gentle hills stretching out, and east
I could see a hill with houses, more than a mile away.

  ‘Right, this building is yours, so don’t damage anything.’

  They laughed.

  ‘Snipers up here, make yourselves comfy, maybe make holes in the walls to shoot out from, there are sandbags down there and more coming. By dawn you’ll have Charlie in the treeline and shooting at you. So get ready, sort teams and rotas and supplies, lots of supplies on their way.

  ‘Search this building for booby-traps, the roof, the ground around it, everywhere, then settle in. Senior men, get on my radio frequency. Standing orders are to stay here, return fire from the treeline, don’t go after them unless I tell you. Simple.’

  ‘What about the south?’

  ‘First, it’s a fucking long shot to take, and second – we have teams down there. Only shoot at shiny black faces, not men in green facemasks or white folk. I have some black men with me, don’t shoot at them.’

  Entering the single storey building again, but from the west side, I found Tiller and Brace searching, Rizzo and Monster seen down the long corridor.

  ‘Anything?’ I asked.

  ‘Not so far, Boss. Dead snake, small scorpion, some dried shit – some not so dried shit, an old flask, not much else.’

  ‘Get up on the roof and check, then the white powder outside, look for booby traps, mines, the works.’

  ‘Right, Boss.’

  I walked down the central corridor, and someone had recently swept the broken glass into neat piles. Rizzo and Monster were exploring old desks in a large room with no windows. ‘Rizzo, this will be our HQ room, medics in here, so make a happy home. You sit and organise, leave that arm to heal.

  ‘More supplies coming, and jeeps, lots more teams. Monster, go search, see if you can find anything useful for us – or you get a slap.’

  ‘Right, Boss,’ Monster offered as Rizzo laughed.

  Back with 14 Intel I had two of them left on the windows, the rest to gather around. ‘Four people per room, two on two off because eyes go funny if you stare at the treeline too long. Four go next door, make a happy home, two watching the treeline, because we will get visitors tonight or in the morning.

  ‘There are sandbags here, so – men – get filling some, and place them against the walls and block the windows, leaving holes to fire out from. And consider an RPG fired at this building, it will make a hole, so sandbags will help. Get to it.’

  Dicky and Mouri split the team and made a start on blocking the windows as I stepped outside, seeing Swifty’s patrol disappear into the treeline, Tiller and Brace running to catch up, Stretch still searching the area.

  Hearing helos, I peered south, soon seeing three French Pumas. They loudly set down, a cloud of white dust thrown up – whatever it was and probably poisonous, French soldiers out and down with heavy bags, soon knelt as the Pumas pulled away north.

  I waved them inside, twenty of them, and led them down past 14 Intel and on to the very end of the building. ‘Four men in this room, Americans are in the next building, watch the treeline north straight away.’

  Four men dumped kit. I placed four in each room, and I told the Captain to watch the south side now and then but that we had teams down there. About to leave them, I asked, ‘Any men good with cement?’

  Two were former builders. I had them dump kit and follow me. At the east side door I showed them the concrete and sand, and told them to block some windows, maybe strengthen some walls.

  A big shrug exchanged, and they lifted bags over shoulders and carried them along the corridor. Stepping to the south side I could see that windows had been replaced. Lifting up wooden panels, I handed them to the 14 Intel teams, to block windows.

  ‘Anyone in the treeline firing at you can hit people walking in the corridor, so block up the windows as best you can.’

  Dicky walked outside, a cautious glance at the tree line, and he lifted a heavy metal sheet covered in white dust, placing it against a window and covering the middle of that window, still space to fire out from. A second sheet, some help from Mouri, and a second window was covered.

  My phone trilled. ‘It’s “D” Squadron, Boss. We’re almost down to those huts but we found a boot sticking out the dust, a body attached to that boot, five friends with him.’

  ‘Any ID?’

  ‘Lads are looking now.’

  ‘Good find, get back to me. Oh, they white or black men?’

  ‘Hard to tell, been here a long time, but the faces look European.’

  I stood peering down at the mine with Salome, the next Chinook bringing in more Wolves, as well as Echo lads, Sasha, plus many green Gerry cans of water.

  ‘Aren’t you wounded?’ I asked Sasha as he drew near, limping.

  ‘I sit and make tea, no,’ he said with a smile.

  I shook my head at him as the lads peered down the mine. ‘Go find Rizzo in the big room, you keep him company.’ I greeted the veteran British Wolves and the new British Wolves, Robby’s team of six, and I waved the American recruit wolves inside, the two American captains and two sergeant instructors taking in the mine.

  I led Robby’s team to a room next to 14 Intel, four veteran Wolves in the next room, and I filled up the rooms as I went, the captains and instructor sergeants to be in the HQ room, company for Rizzo and Sasha, a brew on.

  The French lads walked back and forth with sand and cement, and they pinched away most of the wooden panels as well. On a bare concrete wall I drew a large diagram of the mine with a stone I found, and I illustrated features for the captains.

  With their kit off, and now sat on old wooden benches, a captain began, ‘I was desk bound when the Wolves programme began, now I seem to be a special forces operator in the bush.’

  ‘And..?’ I nudged.

  ‘At first it was odd, loud bangs when I was supposed to be filling in forms, but I started to get used to it, and now it seems like a life time ago – my other job. I had been behind a desk for almost five years, recruits and statistics.’

  ‘And which do you prefer?’ I pressed.

  ‘Most days I prefer this, I feel that I’m doing something useful, contributing, just that – it was not planned.’

  I nodded. ‘You’ll end up back recruiting more Wolves, but now you have the experience, and you’ve observed the men and their moods, so you can better judge the next batch.’

  Monster walked back in, his boots white. ‘There’s a way up onto this roof, but it’s flat as fuck; you’d not want to be up there if we’re attacked here. Nothing else of interest west of us, just rusted old equipment, and no tracks in the dust.’

  ‘Good work, get a brew on. Then pick yourself a spot where you can shoot someone in the treeline north.’

  Stretch wandered in. ‘No booby traps,’ he offered me, a yawn and a stretch before he plonked down next to Rizzo. I had his Wolves placed in two empty rooms.

  My phone trilled so I stepped into the corridor and to a window facing south. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Got those IDs, Boss.’

  ‘Sloppy, to leave the IDs on the bodies.’

  ‘Someone figured they not be found down here, but the rain has washed away five feet of this stuff over the years.’

  I readied my notepad. ‘Fire away.’ He listed the names, all British. ‘That’s fucking odd, they’re all British.’

  ‘Mine workers back when this was working?’

  ‘It was abandoned twenty years back.’

  ‘Left behind, killed and buried,’ he suggested.

  ‘Why bury them, why not just leave them,’ I thought out loud. ‘OK, thanks.’

  After staring at my phone for five minutes, and staring down the mine for five minutes, I called Tinker not SIS. ‘Note these names.’ I listed them.

  ‘Two of those are familiar,’ he told me.

  ‘Check who they were on the quiet.’

  ‘Were?’

  ‘We found their bodies down here, been in the ground more than a decade, mining engineers for NordGas.’

  ‘Bloo
dy hell. OK, I’ll check old records on the quiet.’

  I called back “D” Squadron and told them to cover over the bodies. Stood outside, Salome was restless and pacing up and down.

  ‘Nervous?’ I asked.

  ‘No, I just want something to do.’

  ‘Soon, we’ll have company soon. In the meantime, follow me.’ I led her to Rizzo. ‘Staff Sergeant, teach this lady all about the Valmet, then have her strip it a hundred times.’

  ‘I learn fast,’ she insisted with a huff.

  ‘Then Monster can compete with you on times,’ I suggested. ‘Or get a slap.’

  ‘Pah,’ she offered Monster, Sasha grinning as he sat observing.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a slap,’ Stretch told her.

  The Pumas returned late in the day, Mitch, Ginger, Swan, Nicholson and Tomo down with more Wolves, and a shit load of supplies. With the loud Pumas departing, and everyone in the town now knowing we were here, the men lugged the supplies inside, one heavy box of ammo, one large brown sack of sandbags dragged, two left where they had been tossed out. I sent men back for them.

  To Tomo, Nicholson and Swan I said, ‘You got fresh supplies?’

  ‘Topped up at the FOB,’ Nicholson confirmed. ‘Got ammo.’

  ‘Get into the tree line north, go east down the long runway, look for tracks and … heavily armed rebel patrols. Get on my radio frequency.’

  Radios tested, they set off.

  To the Wolves I said, ‘Go in and down past the big HQ room, find an empty room on the right facing the treeline, four men to a room, two on two off, watch the treeline.’

  They moved inside as my phone trilled. ‘It’s Tinker, and two of those men are not dead, they work for BP, Mutch knows them.’

  ‘Interesting. Find some old records, or people they knew, and find out if they were single when they worked for NordGas here, and could they have been replaced.’

  ‘Replaced?’

  ‘Yes. They would have been working away a lot of the time, and with no family to miss them they could have been replaced.’

  ‘Why would they be replaced?’

  ‘Why would anyone be replaced?’ I countered with.

  ‘To … infiltrate an organisation…’