Wilco- Lone Wolf 19

by Geoff Wolak

  Why such a big team? I wondered. And why just walking down the middle of the road?

  At the base I found the gate well-guarded, but I had called ahead. Smiles were absent as I led Gay Dave down, the vans turning around and waved off.

  In the Gate House, I told the stunned MPs, ‘This is David, my body double, guy we caught in Guinea.’

  ‘Fucking ‘ell, Boss,’ an MP let out. ‘In uniform he'd pass for you.’

  ‘He … would never pass for me when he speaks.’ I faced David and waited.

  ‘Oh, well you may as well all know now … I'm gay.’

  I faced the men and pulled my pistol. ‘Any smart comments … and I start shooting.’ I took in their faces as they lowered heads. ‘Make sure everyone knows that … Gay Dave is here, and what his role is. He'll impersonate me.’

  ‘He got a death wish?’ an MP asked.

  ‘It’s all a risk, but he was serving life with no parole.’

  ‘Ah,’ the man let out.

  I led Gay Dave out, finding the MP Captain walking up.

  ‘What the fuck..?’

  ‘My double, yes, get used to it quickly.’ I led Dave off around the airfield, describing everything. At the canteen I led him in, everyone stopping dead. ‘This is Dave, my double. He'll impersonate me so that I can be elsewhere doing … naughty things. You will … get along with him.’

  ‘He the guy we caught in Guinea?’ Slider asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Washed the twat off his head then.’

  Gay Dave shot me a look.

  I led him out, and up to the hangar, describing things as we went. Rocko was stood with Wolves and 2 Squadron, who all stopped to stare at us.

  Rocko began, with a heavy frown, ‘That the guy we caught in Guinea?’

  ‘Yes, my double, now working for us rather than suffering a very long prison sentence. Sergeant Major, find him a room, a uniform, then start training him to move and shoot and use the kit.’

  ‘Can we trust him?’

  ‘If we can't … kill him. Simple.’

  Gay Dave shot me a look.

  Two MPs approached, friends of Pete. ‘You know who these cunts were, Boss?’ they demanded.

  ‘Pete killed most of them, I finished them off, so they won't be answering any questions. Their middle manager has been caught, the guy who sent them is brain dead, but we are still looking for the paymaster – a gun runner.

  ‘I hope there's some CCTV, because Pete hit eight people with twelve rounds, and in about four seconds or less, best shooting I've seen. He took the bullet aimed at me, a stupid thing to do. There will be a service for him.’

  Heads lowered, they walked off.

  ‘Rocko, get everyone here ready for jungle warfare, Panama jungle. 2 Squadron guard the wire, we have a job on.’

  The roar of helicopters had people looking around, some getting ready to shoot. An RAF Puma set down, six men out, including Dick and Franks wrapped up warm. They lugged bags over.

  ‘Rocko, rooms for our guests for a day or so before we ship out.’ With bags dumped inside the hangar doors, the Puma pulling off, I led Franks and Dick up to the Intel Team, Major Harris having met them before.

  I waved out Sanderson and the Brigadier. ‘We have a job on, CIA involved, US Navy ready, White House watching closely, our Prime Minister wanting a good result. I'll take a team into Panama, and we'll hit a drugs gang in Nicaragua, a gang who lost drugs on the ship that sank, a gang who have been buying rifles and ammo from North Korea.’

  ‘North Korea!’ the Brigadier exploded.

  I nodded at him. ‘So we have the game on, high stakes poker, so no mistakes. But we do have the very excellent CIA to help us.’

  Franks shot me a look. ‘We make the coffee,’ he dryly told the team.

  ‘Do I go with you?’ Harris asked.

  ‘To the US Navy carrier as liaison. A small team will be with me in Panama, as before.’

  ‘American Wolves?’ Harris asked. ‘Some are back here already.’

  I gave that some thought. ‘To the carrier, as many as can be rounded up. If they're Stateside they can go direct to the carrier.’

  My phone trilled so I stepped to the corridor; the Pentagon. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘It’s Colonel Mathews, can you talk?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I'm running the show from here, but I see a big problem … in that we got fuck all intel or know who to attack.’

  ‘That’s where I come in, sir, intel and targets to follow in a few days.’

  ‘How'd you see this playing out?’

  ‘Some spy work, a few bribes, then some dodgy Russian men go into Nicaragua whilst British and American special forces stand ready to rescue them if need be, or if a juicy target appears.’

  ‘Captain Running Bear and his team of Hispanics will join you.’

  ‘I've worked with him many times, sir.’

  ‘So I've been learning, some jobs I was not aware of.’

  ‘It’s called secrecy, sir.’

  ‘Well I'd do my job a lot better if I knew these things!’

  ‘Above my pay grade, sir.’

  ‘When do you ship out?’

  ‘As soon as you call RAF Fairford and order up a C5 for me.’

  ‘Be on that now, they fly most days.’

  Inside, I told the assembled team, ‘That was the Pentagon, they're running this show, at least they think they are.’

  ‘And Regular SAS?’ the Brigadier asked.

  I held my hands wide. ‘I have no idea of what we'll face, sir, and the lay of the land. They may have nothing to do. If we need them, we call for them, just … a long ten hour flight away.’ I faced Harris. ‘Start research on Nicaraguan drug gangs, territories, get some good maps.’

  ‘And our friend in Europe, the drug dealer?’

  ‘Is linked in, but the PM and the White House wants the Nicaraguans dealt with first. And, for those interested, the high-level mole in London has been caught.’

  ‘Another one,’ the Brigadier spat out.

  I nodded at him.

  ‘And MP Pete?’ Sanderson asked.

  ‘Died a hero, saving my life. He drew his pistol and got off twelve rounds in about four seconds. I hope there's CCTV of it. I will be organising a service for him, when we get back. And, everyone, my doppelganger is now working with us, the guy we nabbed in Guinea. Please don't laugh at him.’

  ‘Why would be laugh at him?’ Sanderson puzzled.

  ‘Just … meet him and see, sir.’

  I led Franks and Dick to the common room for coffee and a long chat about Yemen, and the useful intel gleaned. ‘Are the Saudis asking questions?’

  ‘They don't believe al-Qa'eda fired those missiles at them,’ Dick put in. ‘But there's no evidence floating around – we hope.’

  ‘And the aftermath, amongst the tribes?’

  ‘Al-Qa'eda and their buddies lost face, most of their best boys wiped out. The south coast army searched around and buried a shit load of bodies, not finding any Western soldiers to shoot at – then went home. Sanaa government has been attacking a few units that you weakened, so a shift in the local power politics.’

  ‘And the attitude of the media and Congress, Stateside?’

  ‘They loved it,’ Franks scoffed. ‘Another film in the pipeline.’

  Dick put in, ‘Admiral Jacobs has a new swagger about him, better arrangement with the Pentagon. And recruitment is up after a decline. You are persona grata, not least because they think you were in Mexico and hitting the Lobos Cartel.’

  ‘Think?’ I repeated.

  ‘It’s being denied, but with a smile.’

  ‘Petrov … was there, so let’s hope people don't put two and two together.’

  ‘There are suspicions,’ Franks warned me.

  Down in stores the guys were grabbing jungle gear, plastic flysheets and green plastic webbing, waterproof webbing with pockets, Gay Dave getting some kit. I grabbed what I wanted, Crab smirking at me.
<
br />   ‘You want a punch in the head?’ I asked Crab.

  ‘No, Boss, something stuck in my teeth.’

  ‘Let’s hope you don't get any teeth punched out.’

  ‘We in on this job?’

  ‘No, stay here, because this place is more dangerous.’

  Outside the hangar, in the cold air, I asked Rocko how many men we had.

  ‘Most are here, a few British Wolves, six American Wolves here, some due tonight. Monster is on holiday, and that twat Parker is on holiday – but wounded anyhow.’

  ‘If more turn up after we leave, try and send a group to the US Navy in the Caribbean. Get Sanderson on it, to ask the CIA guy here where to send them.’

  Stretch walked up, wrapped up warm in civvy clothes. ‘Got a minute?’

  I led him away.

  ‘Been to see the doctor,’ Stretch began. ‘Well, seen him a few times this past year. My knees are fucked, bones are disintegrating or some bollocks, getting hard to run.’

  ‘And there was me thinking you're just old, fat and lazy.’

  He smiled briefly. ‘Army doctors would bin me if they knew.’

  ‘Are you keen to see the outside world?’

  ‘Fuck no.’

  ‘Would you accept a training job?’

  He shrugged. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Come with me.’ I led him into Sanderson's office and closed the door. ‘Stretch here … has fucked his knees but has been hiding it.’

  ‘Ah,’ Sanderson realised.

  I continued, ‘He's been on every mission and has the skills, plus ordnance, and you need instructors, sir. Can you sign him over, please.’

  Sanderson faced Stretch. ‘Are you … happy to give up working in the field?’

  ‘I'm older than the rest of them, sir, ancient by some standards, thirty-seven now, and my body is a bit knackered. So, yes, I can give up the jobs abroad, but I'm not keen to quit the Army yet.’

  ‘Teaching does not require running with a heavy pack,’ Sanderson told him. ‘You start on Monday morning, if there's anyone left here. Given the alert, you can do a stint in a trench if you like.’

  ‘Anything, sir,’ Stretch offered, and it was rare to hear him use ‘sir'. I left him with his new boss.

  In with Billy I gave him the news, forms to be filled in, files to be handed to Sanderson.

  ‘You OK?’ he finally asked me.

  I stared out the window into the hangar. ‘He took the bullet meant for me. Stupid thing to do.’

  ‘His job was to protect you, and it seems he did it well...’

  I nodded, and sighed. ‘If it was a job in the field...’

  ‘Proper enemies, not some little shit. Yes, hard to accept it, like a car accident.’

  Down in the hangar I found Rizzo walking in, civvy clothes, having been called back. ‘Listen, Stretch has been assigned to No.1 Field Recon, as a teacher.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘His knees are fucked, he hid it.’

  ‘That twat, I knew he was hurting.’

  ‘You need a new 2ic, and you have till the morning to decide.’

  He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. ‘Not many of the original gang left,’ he complained.

  ‘Decide quickly.’ I left him to think.

  Outside the hangar I found Moran and Ginger with a new face, the man a tall captain in uniform. But Medical Corp. The visitor had sharp features and looked like the public school type, red cheeks.

  ‘This is Major Wilco,’ Moran introduced me.

  The captain saluted. ‘Doctor Williams, Medical Corp. I know General Dennet well, we're related, and … he said to come chat to you.’

  ‘What about?’ I puzzled.

  ‘Joining Echo.’

  ‘Echo?’ Moran puzzled. ‘You're a doctor?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A doctor?’ I repeated.

  ‘I did your three-day, got eighty-six percent.’

  ‘You did?’ came from three mouths at the same time.

  I asked, ‘How the fuck did a doctor get on my three-day?’

  ‘I asked, and nagged. I was a runner at Oxford, marathons, and I shot at Bisley, so … despite being a doctor I'm also a soldier.’

  Moran began, ‘But you're a doctor...’

  ‘Major Wilco is a medic, but that doesn’t slow him down any. Doctors are useful.’

  ‘You keen to shoot people?’ I asked.

  ‘Depends on who they are? Terrorists, yes, blacks pillaging a village, yes, shits like Lord Michaels, yes.’

  I exchanged a look with Moran. ‘Doctors are useful. Let’s pair him with Rizzo.’

  Moran and Ginger laughed.

  ‘Who is … Rizzo?’ Williams asked.

  ‘Troop sergeant with educational standards of an alley cat,’ Moran put in.

  ‘Ah, perhaps we might clash then.’

  ‘Follow me, but you picked a bad day.’

  ‘You had an attack here, another one,’ Doc Williams noted as we walked in and up the stairs.

  ‘We're about to ship out on a job, and you can't tag along since it’s secret, off the books, illegal and dangerous.’

  ‘That would be in at the deep end, yes. I parachute, did I tell you?’

  In with Billy, I began, ‘This is Doctor Williams, and he wants to join Echo.’

  ‘A doctor?’ Billy queried as he stood.

  ‘A doctor that runs, shoots, parachutes, and got eighty-six on my three-day.’

  ‘Eighty-six, good for a damn doctor,’ Billy noted.

  ‘He's yours to bring up to speed, whilst I'm away. Book him into the officers’ mess. Oh, and check his ID carefully, shoot him if you need to.’

  I left our new recruit looking worried. In the hangar, Salome was now in jungle greens.

  ‘Did I invite you along?’ I teased.

  ‘You never said I couldn't come.’

  ‘The Palestinians never said that you couldn't take the land, so you took it..?’

  She shrugged a shoulder.

  ‘I may have some spy work for you when we're there, so that you can earn your keep.’

  ‘I got you the intel in Yemen, Putz.’

  ‘Putz? You looking for a good spanking?’

  ‘I'm available when you are … I even have a room.’

  ‘Behave. Major.’

  In the house, Swifty was getting ready, jungle kit being sorted, sniffed at and placed on radiators for a few hours. He stopped when I started to sort kit. ‘Pete's gone then.’

  I continued to sort kit. ‘Head shot, temple, was quick for him.’

  ‘Best way, yeah.’

  ‘He got off twelve rounds quickly, knocked down eight people, he killed most of them.’

  ‘Good shooting, yeah, he practised a lot. Who'll bodyguard you now?’

  ‘Someone dumb enough to volunteer.’

  ‘I’d say Tomo is good with a pistol, but … it’s Tomo.’

  We smiled. ‘I'd kill him on a long drive up to London.’

  ‘MP Graveson is good with a pistol, as good as Tomo.’

  ‘I heard, so maybe he's dumb enough to want to do it.’ My phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘It’s David, and the bullet in your friend, Pete, is 5.56mm.’

  ‘So there was a sniper, and the team was there as cannon fodder, to distract me. Still seems odd.’

  ‘Depends on the mind-set of the paymaster.’

  ‘He'd have to be Hispanic to think like that.’

  ‘You may meet him soon.’

  Off the phone, I faced Swifty. ‘Pete was hit by a sniper, not a 9mm pistol round. Shot was meant for me, but Pete stood tall when I knelt behind the cars.’

  ‘Sniper may have figured it was you shooting...’

  ‘After the shooting ended I was visible, no second shot..?’

  ‘Odd.’

  ‘Very odd. The sniper was in no danger, so why leg it away, why not just shoot both of us?’ I posed.

  Swifty stopped and faced me. ‘Is someone toying with you? First the two dumb
fucks in the bar, a team in the woods, now this. Both times there were amateurs and pros in the mix.’

  I stopped to consider that. ‘Why toy with me, why not just kill me?’

  ‘He wants something, he wants you to do something, get mad at someone.’

  ‘This job came from the White House, we've been called off looking for the paymaster, but we know who he is. And it would have been easy to kill me at that hotel. A man in the bar could have got a shot off first.’

  ‘They know your reputation, fast on the draw, bodyguards, agents nearby... be a suicide trip for any gunman. In Paris you killed ten police officers and agents who had the drop on you.’

  ‘My distorted bullshit reputation,’ I said with a sigh. ‘But the paymaster had access to the mole, now caught. He could have been getting good advice.’

  ‘Unless the mole is not the mole, but the paymaster.’

  I stopped to stare, then lifted my phone and stepped out into the cold night. I called David. ‘Listen, something here is not right. The mole, is he making a deal?’

  ‘Yes, he'll move abroad, never to return, after he gives up his friends.’

  ‘Nice deal, and one he knew he would get. But what if he's playing us, and he's the main man here, sympathies in some strange places, a long term traitor who knew that when caught you'd make a deal, so he spins a web around himself and you buy the story – he goes sits on a beach, job done. Question is, what’s the real plot here?’

  ‘You are cut out for this, aren't you, and now I'm worried, very worried.’

  ‘Don't cut a deal yet, look at his finances and associations, and then see what motivates him. Look at his college days, time spent in other countries.’

  ‘I'll be all over this now, and not getting any sleep. Be my neck if he plays us.’

  Tiny drove in with her mate, and pulled up. I led them inside, the kettle knocked on as they gave me the detail, Swifty listening in.

  ‘We're off to Panama tomorrow, or soon, you both come,’ I finally told them. ‘But you fly British Airways.’

  ‘Great, I love Panama,’ Tiny enthused. ‘Can I walk around naked again?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Naked?’ Swifty asked.

  ‘Don't ask,’ I told him. To the ladies, I finally told them, ‘Go get ready, suitable civvy clothes, bikinis.’