Wilco- Lone Wolf 17 Page 7

  ‘Realistic conditions,’ Sanderson approved.

  ‘And a few rounds fired into the dirt,’ the Brigadier noted.

  ‘Men shouted at,’ I added.

  ‘Where would it sit?’ he asked.

  ‘Just southwest of the long range, shots fired north only, large wooden wall just in case, ten foot dirt mounds around it. Course would be about four hundred yards long, targets would be off to the side and no more than 200yards away, controlled and timed.’

  ‘We have a good budget,’ Sanderson noted.

  ‘And,’ I began, ‘they fire to the left as they progress, no left-handed firing, hot ejected brass hitting someone in the throat.’

  ‘Yes,’ they agreed.

  ‘And the SA81 can’t be fired left handed anyhow,’ the Brigadier noted.

  ‘Some targets close enough for pistol work,’ I suggested.

  ‘I’ll make a start on that,’ Sanderson offered. ‘Outline plan and a start on the mud wall, get some of those wooden logs they use on assault courses. What would the obstacles be?’

  ‘Fences, brick walls, a house -’

  ‘House?’

  ‘They go up and over a building, or through, but fire out from it. Plus some water, barbed wire. No rope swings or balancing.’

  Back at the original long range we observed as Tobo’s men moved and fired in teams of four, the three of us stood in a stiff cold breeze.

  ‘How are they, in comparison?’ Sanderson idly asked.

  ‘Not Echo material, but they have great discipline, all dead keen to please, plus they’re fit. Good shots, better than most British enlisted men – on par with Sambo. I’ll train them here then ship them back down to Sierra Leone, and they’ll work out of the FOB. I’ll get some huts for that place, permanent huts, piped water, fix the rooms.’

  I faced Sanderson. ‘Use some of our budget for that, but I’ll get it back after we prove that more than just our lot use the facilities.’

  ‘I’ll take an interest, yes, the men are down there often enough.’

  ‘Your new unit will be down there often, sir,’ I told him, making him smile. ‘Oh, what do you reckon to the old “E” Squadron men coming under your banner?’

  ‘Well, it’s a broad banner, men and women selected for irregular intel, now with those two police officers on attachment, and “E” Squadron is irregular intel, so it dovetails well enough, yes.’

  The Brigadier put in, ‘The “E” Squadron men are much better these days, but it will be odd for some of them to be back in uniform and 9 to 5.’

  ‘I wouldn’t force uniforms, or 9 to 5,’ I told him. ‘Some spend years on bodyguard work. They’d only be back here a few weeks a year, some refresher on the pistol, some first aid refresher. Some did ten years in the Regiment, so they know the trade well enough.’

  ‘And the American Wolves?’ Sanderson nudged.

  ‘Will spend some time here, no more than a month a year I reckon,’ I explained. ‘Thing about the American Wolves, and being here under my care, is that I can move them without express permission in triplicate from the White House or the Pentagon.

  ‘At the moment, to move American soldiers someplace where shots might be fired requires lengthy White House approval, or interference - as the Pentagon sees it. I took them to Camel Toe base and we told the Pentagon afterwards.’

  ‘Your unit is the exception,’ the Brigadier noted. ‘SAS can move quickly with orders, but other Army units take ages to get going. You move men a day after a decision is made, the SAS take a week, the regular army takes a month at best.’

  I nodded. ‘You won’t have heard, but my friends in low places bought some planes from men who should not have had them, planes like a Spitfire, rockets on the wings. They’ve been donated to the Sierra Leone Government, who will loan them to the RAF, and the RAF will fly combat patrols around the Guinea border.

  ‘If a foot patrol sees rebels heading south, APC and trucks, the planes can swoop in and blast away at the fuckers. A few months of that and the rebels will stop using the roads. Planes can also be called to assist a patrol in trouble and pinned down, should we ever get a patrol pinned down.’

  ‘Should scare the rebels away,’ the Brigadier noted.

  I faced him. ‘How about suggesting to the Army that Lynx helicopters rotate down there, some experience manufactured for their pilots – a few medals in the offing.’

  ‘I know the man to talk to, yes.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll drop the idea.’

  ‘Are there still rebels on the border?’ Sanderson asked as we got back in the jeep.

  ‘There’ll always be rebels down there, sir. Jobs are scarce, guns are cheap, and life is cheap. Your best bet for the next year … is to run live irregular intel down there, get the men experience, get some medals and some good newspaper inches for the new unit.

  ‘The men only need fire warning shots at a rebel armed with a kitchen knife and the The Sun newspaper will run it for you, get the name out there, and then we get some good people applying to join. Question is, do they apply to 14 Intel and get placed with us, or do we recruit direct, as with the Wolves?

  ‘We told 14 Intel about the profiling, and they’ll use it, so maybe we let them recruit men – and ladies, but we keep an eye out for superstars. What I would do if I was you … is chat to Credenhill, and when they’re about to RTU a man they think about No.1 Recon. Many a good man was kicked out the SAS simply because he didn’t get on with his troop sergeant.

  ‘In fact, I might suggest that people suitable for Echo go to you first, sir, an assessment made, some training undertaken.’

  They exchanged thoughtful looks, nodding.

  Bob called me at 5pm. ‘Do we still work down the list, given that the bank exists on paper only?’

  ‘Yes, but slowly, don’t waste money, and leave no evidence. Any middle manager players, deal with them, let’s not regret leaving them alone when they shoot at us next year.’

  ‘French Intel have been on, they have a list, and will transfer money to me to … expedite the list.’

  ‘Be careful, don’t trust them, use several middle men, and try wherever possible to use poison or make it look like a heart attack, only shooting as a last resort.’

  ‘The quiet approach?’

  ‘Been enough bad newspaper headlines lately, let’s give the poor worried citizens a rest, eh. As for the men on our list, make them missing, not dead, that way no bad headlines.’

  ‘I have a few good teams, they’ll appreciate the work.’

  An hour later Tomsk called as I was ironing some shirts. ‘I have this man, met him from the plane.’

  ‘Ah, I had forgotten about him. He knows all about the bank’s Cayman Island accounts, so get him to sit down with paper and pen and to write down all he knows. Get him some nice ladies, hand him cash, tell him he will be treated well if the information is good.’

  ‘And I could borrow some money from these accounts..?’

  ‘British are investigating them, so you’d have to be very careful. Send most of what he tells you to me.’

  ‘I know the manager at this particular bank,’ he boasted. ‘He likes his vices.’

  ‘Go have some fun then.’

  ‘I paid for these small planes in Liberia, but they were not cheap! What will you do with them?’

  ‘Shoot anyone that fucks with your oil. RAF will fly them around the border.’

  ‘Ah, good.’

  ‘You making money from the oil companies?’

  ‘On paper, we have orders over five years for almost a billion euro.’

  ‘Shit…’

  ‘Good business to be in, oil.’

  ‘Don’t complain about the fucking small planes then, eh.’

  ‘What happened at that bank, Frank says Arab terrorists burnt it down?’

  ‘The bank, they killed the son of the ruler of Oman - south of Saudi Arabia, so he had some al-Qaeda men fuck the bank over – with some help of course. I had the Americans ready, so they were ha
ppy with the TV news.’

  ‘The Americans killed the Arabs, so no one talking afterwards,’ he laughed out.

  ‘What has Branco said?’

  ‘I have pages of it, what military takeovers they were involved with, attacking you and your men.’

  ‘Send a copy to Bob in Spectre, and the bank details. We’ll get rid of anyone still active.’

  ‘There is one thing, and they already paid for a coup in Guinea-Bissau, however you fucking say it.’

  ‘Ah … fuck. Find out who the middle men are, and if weapons have been moved?’

  ‘Money went to some army general, and this idiot makes money buying and selling guns, for rebels in Senegal he said. They had weapons delivered two weeks back.’

  ‘Get Branco to detail it for me, and quickly.’

  I called David Finch. ‘I just got word that Petrobras paid for a coup in Guinea-Bissau.’

  ‘Oh hell. It’s next door to the other Guinea, and close to Sierra Leone. Esso has some rights to drill there, they think it has great potential. Esso drilled test wells in the 1960s.’

  ‘Weapons have already been delivered, the idiot army general paid already.’

  ‘Hell. I’ll need to update the Prime Minister.’

  ‘I’ll chat to the Americans, save you a dime on the call, but David, all my men are on holiday.’

  ‘Regular SAS can step in.’

  ‘I’ll call them as well then.’

  My first call was Admiral Jacobs. ‘Sir, where are you, and where are your tubs?’

  ‘I’m still off the coast of Sierra Leone, due to move tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t, there’ll soon be a coup in Guinea-Bissau, west of Guinea. Move your tubs, get ready for action, then send it up the line for an opinion, sir.’

  ‘We got the game on,’ he enthused. ‘Oh, you seen the film -’

  ‘Yes, sir, British TV showed it, we got video copies.’

  ‘East coast will see it tonight I think, west coast later,’ he enthused. ‘Fucking Air Force were delighted, made their sexy B2s look damned dangerous. They owe you a beer!’

  ‘I’ll try and collect on it. Let me know what the White House says, sir.’

  Next call was Colonel Mathews. ‘Sir, we have intel on a coup in Guinea-Bissau, next door to Guinea. Get a political opinion, then tally the men you have in Mauritania or Liberia, I need numbers’.

  ‘I got a meeting to cancel, some calls to make,’ he enthused. ‘Oh, you saw the film?’

  ‘Yes, sir, and I just updated Admiral Jacobs.’

  I walked around to the gatehouse, finding Pete sat reading. ‘Pete, do a tally of all men here, I need names, and right now. We may have a war to go fight in.’

  He rushed out, the police wondering what was up.

  Back in my home, shirt ironing delayed, I called Credenhill.

  ‘Duty Officer.’

  ‘It’s Wilco. Listen, there’s a coup in the offing, Guinea-Bissau, next to the other Guinea, but my men are on holiday. Ask Colonel Marsh if he can lend men to the operation, intel are briefing the PM tonight.’

  ‘I’ll call him now.’

  Moran and Ginger knocked on my door. Moran began, ‘Job on?’

  I led them into my lounge. ‘Coup in Guinea-Bissau, next to the other Guinea, paid for by the same naughty chaps that got their HQ building burnt down, but they paid for this coup two weeks back. No idea when the coup is.’

  ‘We have about ten men here, rest are away.’

  ‘I’ve asked Credenhil for men, and the Yanks have a carrier battle group offshore, Marines, and there are always men in Mauritania and Sierra Leone.’

  ‘That’s the one good thing,’ Ginger noted. ‘Men sat down there ready, acclimatised.’

  ‘We may go down, and supervise the others,’ I told them. ‘At the moment I have no timescale, and if they shoot the current idiot in power it’s all over in ten minutes.’

  I called Tinker at home as they waited. ‘Listen, coup being planned in Guinea-Bissau. I need the head of the army spied on and bugged fast, very fast.’

  ‘I’ll call them now.’

  I called SIS. ‘It’s Wilco. Put a formal request in to GCHQ to bug the head of the army in Guinea-Bissau, and a note to the UKSF Directorate about the intended coup down there. Update the embassy down there, but urge them to keep it secret. David Finch already knows. And a note to the French, Americans already know. Thanks.’

  Off the phone, Moran noted, ‘Timing is key. For the last coup, in Conakry, we got the warnings in time and were well placed. If we’re an hour late … we may as well stay at home.’

  I nodded. ‘The entire country is twenty miles wide and fifty miles long.’

  ‘Won’t take many men to hold it,’ Moran noted. ‘And if the army is housed in the city … they move next door and take power.’

  ‘I’d say … best bet is a lone sniper, would-be president shot.’

  They nodded.

  ‘Problem is,’ I told them, ‘the American’s thirst for good TV minutes. But there may be a way. The general has been buying and selling guns, and I have some evidence – a witness of sorts.’ I nodded to myself, and called Admiral Jacobs.

  ‘Sir, we have evidence against the head of the army in Guinea-Bissau, gun running into Senegal, so … how about you contact him, arrange for him to come inspect your troops, and nab the idiot, hand him to the FBI.

  ‘Won’t get you a lot of TV minutes, but it will be a good result, no Marines killed in the city streets.’

  ‘I’ll send that idea up the line, yes, and if we can grab the idiot then I’m for it. But what about his second in command? That guy might just take over and … business as usual.’

  ‘Grab him as well, and work down the list, sort it out later who was doing what.’

  ‘I’ll sound out Washington.’

  Off the phone, Moran said with a smile, ‘Welcome to the ship, and you’re nicked. Book him, Danno.’

  ‘Danno?’ Ginger queried.

  ‘Hawaii Five Oh, you plonker,’ I told him. ‘My favourite cop series as a kid.’ I looked away. ‘Funny, but my father’s face pops up now and then, and him and me watching Hawaii Five Oh was a regular treat, bag of chips shared.’ I faced them. ‘These past years, since joining the military, I was distant - we were never close, but … but I’d choose to still have him around.’

  ‘Delayed stress,’ Moran noted. ‘You never reacted at the time. To be expected. And the man who ordered the hit?’

  ‘Was pushed out of a tall building in Antwerp a few days ago.’

  ‘Funny old world,’ Moran noted. ‘Al-Qaeda helping you out like that...’

  ‘It is indeed a funny old world,’ I agreed.

  Pete knocked and entered, a list to hand. I had overlooked Tobo’s men.

  I called SIS. ‘I need my black Guinea soldiers moved to Sierra Leone tonight, fast private jet. Get back to me please.’ I faced Moran. ‘Go get Henri and Sambo, kit in crates, civvy clothes, pistols, ready to go tonight with Tobo’s men.’

  They rushed out.

  David Finch called me twenty minutes later. ‘I have a plane for your men. I assume they’ll go spy in Bissau.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A good asset to have. Prime Minister wants the current idiot kept in, so … do what is necessary to achieve that.’

  ‘I suggested to Admiral Jacobs that he invite the head of the army to his ship with his senior staff, and cuff them.’

  ‘That … would cut short a long process, yes. And the evidence against them?’

  ‘Tomsk has it, he has the man who organised and paid for it in a room.’

  ‘And is that man comfortable … in that room?’

  ‘I’d have to say no.’

  ‘And he is…?’

  ‘Former head of security for Petrobras.’

  ‘So it was them. And are they likely to be a problem in the future?’

  ‘No. This was done weeks ago, and Petrobras has since had all its assets frozen.’

  �
��Those assets were unfrozen recently, so I hope they learnt their lesson, a very painful lesson. The Brazilian Government is investigating them as we speak.’

  ‘When and where for this plane?’

  ‘Brize Norton, midnight.’

  I walked to the new wooden huts, finding them a hive of activity. I shouted, ‘Midnight, Brize Norton!’

  Moran responded, ‘I’ll get RAF buses,’ and he ran towards the hangar.

  To Henri I said, ‘Full military kit in the crates, you fly in civvy clothing, you insert to Bissau in civvy clothing, just a pistol, sat phone hidden – well hidden.’

  He nodded, it was all routine. I handed him dollars to use.

  Colonel Mathews called me back. ‘I have men being moved around, plenty of them available, they’ll land in Sierra Leone and wait ready. But the Pentagon likes the idea of tricking the head of the army, so they’ll extend the invite, FBI to be on ship.’

  ‘No chance of dead Marines and a bad newspaper headline,’ I stated.

  ‘There is that, yes.’

  At 10.30pm I waved off the buses, many of the resident men out and observing, all told to pack kit ready to leave and to sleep. And the buses benefitted from MPs and local police as escort; we were taking no chances.

  I had also sent along Captain Moran to speak to the RAF, since none of those on the coach had a UK passport, or even a British accent. I had images of the RAF personnel arresting this foreign bunch of bad boys.

  At 8am I entered the Intel Section, asking for overnight reports. There had been no coup, but many teams had been moved around, a hundred men now available in Sierra Leone.

  As I was there, Henri called. ‘We are in Bissau, but the barracks are emptying, they drive northeast.’

  ‘What? Can you follow them, get Tobo’s men to follow them?’

  ‘I can give them dollars, they can follow yes, long column of trucks so not so hard to follow I think.’

  ‘Do that, fast.’ Off the phone, I faced the nice lady captain. ‘Bollocks.’

  ‘What’s the problem?’ she puzzled.

  ‘The rebel army in Bissau just left, they’re driving north not taking power.’