Wilco- Lone Wolf 19

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘We've not suffered at the hands of a leak, no military intel, but the Chinese are always after technology.’

  ‘Any particular technology that you think they got hold off?’ I pressed.

  ‘We think they got mobile phone technology. So, you're off to Nicaragua.’

  ‘If we can find a suitable target, the men who're chatting to North Korea. The rest of the drug cartels there are of little interest to us.’

  ‘Talk soon.’

  I called David Finch. ‘Is there a link between Hollister and mobile phone companies?’

  ‘What an odd question. I'll have a good look now.’

  I chatted to Doc Williams, who liked to be called Willy, Crab already referring to him as Doc Willy. But our doc could shoot straight, so that was good, and he was practised in field trauma care, a real benefit to men that risked getting shot for a living.

  Mitch returned to us, unaware of the job on, shocked that it was Nicaragua, then shocked again that the White House had approved it. He was followed closely by Wolf Murphy and three buddies, all keen to see some action so long as it was in a warm country.

  Rizzo came up to me as I stood just inside the hangar, kit being checked. ‘Dicky will be my 2ic.’

  ‘And Mouri?’

  ‘Swan will be his oppo, they get on well.’

  ‘Who's not here?’

  ‘Sasha and his boys.’

  I held up a hand, called SIS and asked that they recall Sasha and his team if they could; they were up to something secretive on behalf of London.

  Rizzo continued, ‘We ain't got the regular SAS, they arrive on Monday, to replace Robby's bunch.’

  ‘I wouldn't take them.

  ‘Is Mitch here?’

  ‘Just got back.’

  ‘Them two new lads, Tiller and Brace?’

  ‘They're here.’

  ‘Then that’s most of them, I think,’ Rizzo noted.

  Four men walked in, the spy team from Yemen. ‘What you spy types doing back here?’ I loudly asked.

  ‘London asked if we would like to do something dangerous and stupid in a warm country, so we said yes.’

  ‘Good attitude,’ I commended. ‘If you're going to get shot, at least have the weather! Get kitted for the jungle. Green!’

  I stepped outside and called David. ‘You sent me four of you spies...’

  ‘We want them developed, as per Sasha's team, and they said yes, the final two more interested in the urban jungle. Oh, while you're on, Hollister worked in research, and worked on a report for NATO about the dangers of China getting our mobile and satellite comms technology.’

  ‘Was there anything sensitive at his fingertips?’

  ‘Code and encryption protocols!’

  ‘Oh dear. He was not warning of the dangers, he was the damn danger. You need to tell everyone to alter some codes, anything he had access to.’

  ‘It was five years back, but I have a team looking at what he had access to. And we already suspect the Chinese got it somehow. PM will be livid.’

  ‘How many more?’ I said with a sigh. ‘Did you ID the shooters at my hotel?’

  ‘Yes, a mixed bag of East Europeans, some Moldovan or Ukrainians, definitely a learning towards Russian speakers.’

  ‘And the wounded man?’

  ‘We have a body that we think might be him, fished out the Thames.’

  ‘I don't think he went for a swim, or fell in; water is chilly this time of year.’

  ‘No, so someone is still out there, their local manager. Mister Kitson is hard at it.’

  Half an hour later Bob Staines rang. ‘We have an odd situation,’ he began. ‘No word on the street, no one missing the arrival of some drugs, and they say that the streets are awash with drugs at the moment, no shortages.’

  ‘That is odd,’ I agreed. ‘So these drugs were not meant for the streets of Europe.’

  ‘Doesn't look that way around Holland and Belgium and France, as far as I can tell.’

  ‘And the UK is too small for such a horde,’ I noted. ‘What else could they do with the drugs?’

  ‘Not much, unless they had a buyer in pharmaceuticals.’

  ‘Come again?’

  ‘Glaxo, Astra Zeneca. They make medical opioids, for hospitals.’

  ‘Much of a trade?’

  ‘Huge. Every surgeon uses them for every operation, and most people in hospital get them.’

  ‘Bob, you may be onto something. Start looking for a link between the Belgian bank and such a company.’

  ‘There is one, they owned such a company in Holland, HTZ.’

  ‘Bob, you're a genius. Start looking at that company.’

  I went and found Tinker. ‘Start looking at a subsidiary of our old friends the Belgian bank, HTZ, and fast. I want GCHQ to link phones from them to our bad guys to Hollister. And fast.’

  Outside, I called David. ‘Listen, our friends in low places just came up with something. There's a surplus of drugs on the streets of Europe, and no one is missing a delivery. And … wait for it … the Belgian bank owned a medical opioid company, HTZ in Holland.’

  ‘By god, the shipment was for medical use. And the company in Holland would never be suspected, they would just alter some records and sell the opioids legally around the world, Asia perhaps.’

  ‘Start looking at HTZ, since they seem to want to shoot me – and our ambassador!’

  Thinking, I got Tinker to get me the telephone number of HTZ, and their CEO, Kurt Gestino. I called his private line.

  ‘Yah?’

  ‘Kurt Gestino?’

  ‘Yes..?’

  ‘Major Wilco, British SAS.’ I waited. He waited. ‘How are things at home, family OK, not … shot dead?’

  He hung up.

  I called David. ‘I just called the CEO of HTZ, and spooked him, and … he's dirty. Get Interpol to shine a torch up his arse.’

  I returned to Tinker, and got the phone number for the Dutch Interior Minister. I hit the numbers.

  ‘Yah?’

  ‘Steffan DeBastion?’

  ‘Yes, you are … English?’

  ‘Major Wilco, British SAS.’

  ‘A … surprise, to say the least. I watched the film.’

  ‘Listen carefully, because you're going to be busy today. The Belgian bank that suffered a mishap, they owned a Dutch drug company called HTZ, and we can link them to a ship full of illegal drugs that blew up and sank, and North Korea, and ex-CIA agents, and illegal opioid sales, and recent attempts to kill me.

  ‘The detail will hit the news tomorrow, and if you don't get up off your arse I'll leave the streets of Holland covered in bodies. Do you need that in writing?’

  ‘No, no … need for it in writing, and now I have a late night planned. My god.’

  ‘Talk soon.’ I cut the call.

  At 5pm, David called. ‘That company, HTZ, just had about five hundred police officers descend upon it.’

  ‘I called the Dutch Interior Minister and made him an offer he couldn't refuse.’

  ‘Oh gawd. You were polite, yes?’

  ‘As I always am, promise. It’s their problem, let them sort it out. Any news from Hollister?’

  ‘We confronted him with the Chinese mobile phone suggestion and he was shocked, now morbid. Tomorrow he gets charged, and is facing two hundred years in a cell, he knows that now. And I made a point of mentioning that you and your underworld contacts got most of the evidence against him.’

  ‘David, that was cruel.’

  I called Langley, the Deputy Chief, who these days always interrupted what he was doing to take my calls. ‘It’s Wilco. Take a look at a Dutch company, HTZ, just raided by the Dutch police. Shout at the Dutch, ask for access. The drugs were bound for them, medical opioid use on the cheap. Mention North Korea.’

  ‘I'll shock the Dutch,’ he threatened. ‘And medical cocaine is more expensive than street cocaine, it has to be a certain quality and assured – which I guess they shortcut.’

  ‘Go sh
out, and leak it for me, please.’

  Next call was Tomsk. ‘Get a plane for me, Panama Air Force, like before, to take my men from Belize to you. Day after tomorrow, I should be there late at night.’

  ‘OK, I talk to that minister again, and I said you would hit the Nicaraguans, so he's happy. I also said you might have time to hit that gang in Costa Rica.’

  ‘Did you spray their crops?’

  ‘Yes, killed the crops - and the old men tending the crops, but the gang is still alive.’

  ‘We can chat when I get there.’

  At 9pm the news was not pretty, HTZ closed down, Interpol and the FBI on scene, the European Union in turmoil again, so soon after the bank debacle. And David Finch, he had made sure that Hollister had access to a TV so that he could watch the news.

  The Chief Cabinet Secretary called me at 9.30pm. ‘Passing you over to the Cobra Meeting.’

  ‘Wilco, you hear us?’ came the PM.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Seems that the drugs on that boat were meant for the Dutch company, someone wanting to scuttle it, not sure why it would dock here in England still.’

  ‘Arrests at HTZ might shed some light, sir. We hope.’

  ‘And this Dutch company was owned by that Belgian bank, the bank from hell. Thought we saw an end to them, hoped we had.’

  ‘Still a few subsidiaries with a taste for corruption, sir. Any drugs floating our way?’

  ‘Not so far, so maybe we'll be lucky. And yes, the Chief Constable of Cornwall did have a heart attack and utter a few rude words.’

  I could hear laughter. ‘He's not thinking like a businessman with a seaside hotel to run, staff to pay...’

  ‘Good luck with your operation.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  At 10pm, as I sat in with Swifty, the heating on full, a police car arrived, a small package for me, a VHS video tape. Swifty had previously bought an old VHS player, so we sat and played the tape. It was good quality black and white CCTV, of Pete's death.

  I stared at it dispassionately, Swifty playing it at half speed.

  Swifty noted, ‘Single head shots, three people, double-tap chest, single chest, back to wounded man, double-tap, another double-tap. Good shooting.’

  I watched myself jump on the bonnet and open up, my face now frozen and emotionless, the tape just two minutes long.

  ‘He did well,’ Swifty noted. ‘Sniper got him, not the goons on the street. No sniper and he would have made it.’

  I walked next door and handed it to Moran and Ginger, Doc Willy in chatting to him. They had a VHS recorder as well.

  At 9am we all met in the briefing room, a bit crowded. We had only six British Wolves back, eight Americans, but all of Echo was here, less Stretch, Monster and Parker – and Sasha's team. Gay Dave was sat to one side, in jungle greens.

  I began, ‘OK, some changes and some notes and some plans. Stretch is now with No.1 Field Recon, his knees are fucked.’ I turned to Rocko. ‘Someone to have a pint with when we're away.’

  He nodded.

  ‘And today we get the new batch of SAS regulars assigned to us, so – Sergeant Major – sort some training and testing, sort rooms for those who need them, brief them. We also have a new officer on test and assess, Doc Willy.’

  They smiled as I pointed him out.

  ‘His chosen name, so don't worry. He's a doctor, which is useful for when we're injured, but he runs marathons and shoots well, also parachutes, so he won't slow us down. Sergeant Major, train and test him.

  ‘I had planned on the American Wolves going to the US Navy off the coast of Nicaragua, but there are not many of you so you can come with us direct to Panama, so too the British Wolves. And yes, Tomo and Rizzo, there may be some bonuses to be had.’

  The Echo lads cheered.

  ‘We leave here in two hours, for Brize Norton. Half on a Tristar, half on a hired jet. Rizzo, not with me on the jet.’ They laughed as he protested. ‘The idea of you snoring for ten hours is too much. Right, for those that don't already know, we have with us now Gay Dave.’

  They laughed and snickered.

  ‘Gay Dave?’ Billy repeated.

  ‘My lookalike, and he's gay, so … everyone just get used to it, and treat him well or I'll start shooting people. You will … look out for him and protect him. And he deserves a great deal of respect for volunteering to be my lookalike.’

  ‘Must be fucking mad,’ Ginger noted.

  ‘Dave is already aware that people shoot at me, and is resolute, so he's a brave man and deserves some respect.’ Gay Dave seemed very pleased with my comments.

  Tomo noted, ‘He's got your accent right.’

  I gave him a pointed finger as the lads snickered. ‘You want a boxing lesson, cunt?’

  ‘No, Boss.’

  ‘OK, it’s hot jungle warfare, but winter, so greens, but take jackets as well, check kit again before we leave. We'll pick up extra kit there, and ammo, it’s sat waiting. For those of you who have not been to Panama before, you don't ask stupid questions or gossip, or you'll get a punch to the head from me.

  ‘You American Wolves, we'll be stretching a few laws, but the CIA and your government know about it, the US Navy ready to assist us. The remainder of the American Wolves will join us there. Those of you not going, you have never heard of Panama, we're off to Belize – which is kind of true.’

  Murphy raised a hand. ‘Sir, our CO said that like a dozen or more men was with that there Admiral Jacobs.’

  ‘Fine, that is what they trained for. What happened to the new batch?’

  ‘They's in Arizona, sir, waiting for you.’

  ‘Waiting for me?’

  ‘They said they'd be training in West Africa someday real soon, sir.’

  ‘Ah, yes, that was the plan. After this job we'll go down there. Nice and warm. To start, we'll be in Panama training, waiting on some good intel. Any questions, or problems?’

  They exchanged looks.

  ‘OK, Billy, Rocko with me.’

  I led them upstairs and grabbed Sanderson, Robby and the Brigadier. In a training room I showed them a huge detailed drawing of the base I had made up by the Intel team, now spread across a desk.

  ‘OK, we have a war on, and right here at this base. The 2 Squadron lads dug trenches, and I want more. I also want more cameras, infra-red, but first … I want each of you to drive around in the daylight and think like a terrorist, think about which approach looks easiest, best cover, and start planning for a trap at that point.

  ‘Make the other areas stronger, more high-visibility, so that a would-be gunmen is herded towards the trap you make. You can be sure that we'll get company, and soon, so we need to plan a war here, and to shoot the bastards not deter them.’

  The Brigadier offered, ‘I'll ask about more cameras.’

  ‘And two new towers, sir, somewhere away from the trap. And a shit load of barbed wire reels, sir, like ten miles of it.’

  Sanderson put in, ‘I'll talk to the RAF facilities officer today.’

  I pointed at the range. ‘Here we have the canal, a bit frozen, and no one will be crossing it, so how about we get a digger and make more canals, around the edges, herd people towards the trap. Here, west edge beyond the farm is a small canal full of stagnant water. If we get a digger and extend that, then in this weather no one will cross the water.’

  ‘Cheap enough,’ the Brigadier noted. ‘Our land, so fuck the permission. We get two or three diggers and make a start. Even if the water is only twelve inches no one will want to try and cross it, not in this weather.’

  Rocko said, ‘At night, no fucker will know how deep it is, just that it’s bastard cold and they'll die if they dip a toe in.’

  I faced the Brigadier. ‘Have 2 Squadron send more men, sir, as many as they like. They can use the ranges when not on the wire.’

  Robby turned to Rocko. ‘Let’s go drive around then, and think like the bad boys.’ They headed out.

  To Billy I said, ‘This is you
r top priority, morning, noon and night.’

  He nodded as he studied the drawing. ‘South woods needs a tower.’

  Sanderson told me, ‘The new range will be ready when you get back, assuming two weeks away.’

  ‘Test it, sir, put some of the 2 Squadron lads across it.’

  He nodded, and studied the drawing.

  ‘Major Harris's wife..?’ I asked.

  Sanderson replied, ‘Apparently she's OK, given up worrying about safety here. Captain O'Leary's wife is … nervous but resolute.’

  I told them, ‘Kids in the village think it’s cool, and boast about living near here.’

  Down in the hangar I grabbed our four spies. ‘On this job you're bad boy mercenaries, so think up a legend and practise it. But always remember, never try hard to convince anyone of anything. If they ask questions, seem disinterested.

  ‘You'll be in the jungle shooting at people, so all good practise for you, and if there's an opportunity for you to do something as a team I'll send you off, but it won't be dangerous from a point of view of legends holding up, it'll be more sneak and shoot probably.

  ‘We'll be in with the world's richest and most dangerous drug dealer, but don't worry -'

  ‘Don't worry?’ one repeated.

  ‘There are things you don't know. This king pin, he … does whatever I tell him.’

  They exchanged puzzled looks.

  I told them, ‘You'll get the full picture when we get there. On the flight you're Echo SAS, so feel free to tell outsiders to fuck off or that they risk a jail sentence.’

  We boarded the green RAF buses midday, a delay from Brize Norton phoned through to us, and we set off with heavy police escort, making it without incident, soon in a familiar Departures Lounge populated with Army units - who all stopped to stare.

  Captain Parker, wounded in Sierra Leone and carried on my back, bound over with a huge smile. ‘Off to Belize?’

  We shook.

  ‘Onwards from there, trouble to start.’

  ‘And attacks at your base. Every time there's trouble at your place we get a hundred men asking to help you, and why can't they?’

  ‘Good to know, but we have enough men to kill the intruders, it’s just that they keep coming.’