Wilco- Lone Wolf 19

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘Oh, come on, we won't bite you,’ Tiny told me, her friend already stripping off and heading for the shower.

  I sighed, and had to wonder if I was being overly cautious; I could be dead tomorrow.

  ‘You can be in the middle,’ Tiny teased, stripping off. She was soon headed to the shower as well, and I was very tempted to join them. Question was, could I trust her mate, and would the gossip get around the base.

  Stripped down to my trousers, I waited, her mate coming out first, a towel around her. She stopped dead. ‘My god. I had heard, but … bloody hell, Boss.’

  ‘Yes, I have a few scars.’

  ‘A few? Shit … they used you for target practise, Boss.’

  ‘Yes, in Bosnia.’

  Tiny came out naked. ‘All yours, Handsome.’

  I shook my head and used the toilet, made a smell and showered, pants back on.

  Lights out, they were both in the large double bed, and I eased in with my phone. ‘You wanted to share, so you share with my phone.’

  ‘What does your phone do?’ Tiny giggled.

  ‘It vibrates, yes, and trills, and gets to be damned annoying.’

  We settled down, Tiny's mate facing away from me, Tiny cuddling up – whether I agreed with that or not. I put a reluctant arm around her and found it a very natural move. She soon had a small hand on my cock, slowly making it hard, nothing said.

  ‘Suzy,’ she whispered. No response came. ‘Sleeps like a cat, my Suzy. Need a bomb to wake her.’

  She eased out my now-stiff cock, the sheet pushed gently down, and she eased down, soon swallowing me quietly as I glanced at the dark outline of Suzy. From the breathing pattern she was asleep already.

  I came quickly but quietly, squinting my eyes closed in pain as Tiny continued, not a drop spilt, all swallowed. She finally eased back up to me. ‘You're a naughty girl, you know that.’

  She giggled quietly. I reached down with my left hand and found her pussy, soon rubbing the clit. After a few minutes I could feel her tense up, and she put a hand on mine to stop me.

  My phone vibrated ten minutes later.

  ‘Wilco,’ I whispered.

  ‘It’s Sergeant Katowski.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘We grabbed the sleepy locals, right easy, but ten armed men came out the bush, well-armed. We killed them, but for two wounds, through and through, helo on the way.’

  ‘Weapons found?’

  ‘Got two rifles, AK56, shone a torch and had a good look, no serial numbers where they should have some.’

  ‘That’s enough evidence, so have the Marines land at dawn with reporters, and search inland a mile or so. And those speedboats, seize them.’

  ‘Right, sir. Can I hear a woman giggling?’

  ‘No, definitely not, that’s … the TV on in the background.’

  ‘TV eh.’

  Phone down, Tiny quietly asked, ‘Good news?’

  ‘Yes, good enough for a mini-movie about a glorious action against ten sleepy pensioners.’

  She snuggled up, her head on my chest, and I felt guilty about Cecilia. Still, this would never get out. Tiny smelt great, and felt great, and I was very happy to have her here, just that I would worry about her more now – and worry about Cecilia. And if Salome found out there could be a bitch fight.

  I smiled as I imagined Tiny drawing a knife on Salome, a stand-off in Tomsk's kitchen.

  I woke to find Suzy on her back, naked, snoring gently. I had a good look at the boobs and the pussy, finding a small tuft of hair shaped like a heart. I sighed, Tiny stirring. I eased out quietly, both ladies still with their eyes closed, and I used the toilet with the door closed, followed by a shower.

  Dressed, I eased the sheet back off tiny and kissed a nipple without waking her, shaking my head as I put the sheet back. I slipped out without waking them, wondering if they touched each other. Down the stairs I had to force the images away, or walk around with a stiff cock.

  Only the guards were on duty as I helped myself to coffee and some food, bread roles. In the map room I studied the map of Nicaragua, and I wondered what the men setting the trap would be doing when the news of the Marines hit. Mostly likely they would shit themselves and quite rightly run away, figuring themselves to be next.

  My phone trilled. ‘It’s Katowski, sir.’

  ‘Get any sleep?’

  ‘Caught two hours after we got the wounded away, sir.’

  ‘Any more surprises?’

  ‘A giant pig.’

  ‘A pig?’

  ‘It took a fancy to one of my men and keeps following him.’

  I laughed. ‘Shoot it and eat it.’

  ‘We are tempted, sir, but I'm no wrecker of relationships, and she likes him.’

  ‘Marines landed?’

  ‘On the horizon, coming in by boat and helo.’

  ‘Watch the treeline, could be more sleepy gunmen.’

  ‘I have the men 500yards inside the treeline, just in case some young Marine opens up.’

  I called SIS, London, the UK four hours ahead of us. ‘It’s Wilco, anything happening overnight?’

  ‘Overnight reports have the Canadians arresting four people at the airport, fake passports. CIA are not requesting extradition yet for some reason. These four were flagged up by GCHQ as being linked to murders at HTZ. Do you know about the ship the American Navy stopped?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s it for now I think.’

  ‘Put me through to GCHQ.’

  ‘Hold on.’

  ‘Major Wilco, duty officer here,’ came a new voice.

  ‘Any luck with the GPS tracks of the ships?’

  ‘I'll put you through.’

  ‘Wilco?’ came a few seconds later.

  ‘Yes, what you got?’

  ‘We have the ship tracks, and a kink.’

  ‘Kink?’ I repeated.

  ‘One of the ships, Harvest Orion, has an odd track, looks like it stopped and drifted for an hour.’

  ‘Ship-to-ship transfer.’

  ‘Ship that was near it is called Loana II, we're looking for her track now. She's registered out of Panama, Hong Kong owned.’

  ‘I need those tracks under the microscope, to get all the players and ports.’

  ‘We have a team on it, Americans are helping and the Admiralty, they keep ships tracks.’

  ‘Any word on Hollister?’

  ‘His wife was arrested for his murder.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘She killed him in his hospital bed.’

  ‘Fucking … hell. Wasn't he being guarded?’

  ‘He was paralysed, police outside. She suffocated him before they noticed.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘I believe that she was informed of what he was charged with. And I guess … hell hath no fury like a wife betrayed for forty years – and cheated on with rent boys.’

  ‘I guess not. Keep me informed of those ship tracks please, and update Major Harris. Wilco out.’

  Phone down, I shook my head. ‘That'll make the front pages.’

  My phone trilled, David Finch. ‘You're up and awake,’ he noted.

  ‘Just.’

  ‘You heard about Hollister?’

  ‘Yes, and it won't be pretty when the news hits.’

  ‘Already on the BBC, a hint that he was involved with espionage for a foreign power. When they link him to North Korea the screams will be loud enough for you to hear.’

  ‘He never set-up the deal, the Canadian contractors found out ten years after the North Koreans had been running their guns, from the ship's Captain that blew up and sank.’

  ‘Americans are very happy with us, largest drugs bust since … well, since records began I think. And right now the paymaster will need a loan, and his cohorts will all be looking for day jobs.’

  ‘The deaths at HTZ, maybe they were to keep things quiet, cover some tracks. Look at the dead men and track back, phones especially. Those men were singled out to be silenced
by the Canadian contractors for a good reason.’

  ‘Will do, but if Debonet is alive he’s out of pocket and owing a drug gang a very large sum; they'll want him dead. I don't think we'll hear from him again.’

  ‘Why were the drugs on that ship, and heading to Nicaragua, that’s the puzzle. They should have been on their way to buyers.’

  ‘To be cut-up and sent on maybe. That load was too big for just one dealer to handle. Oh, and the Mexicans now know that their police pinched the drugs and did not burn them, some raised Spanish voices this morning.’

  ‘Like they're shocked by corruption!’ I scoffed.

  ‘US Marines in action?’

  ‘As we speak. SEALs took the sleepy port overnight, killed ten gunmen for two wounds, found just two AK56 from North Korea, enough of a find to link to that ship.’

  ‘Are you still planning on going in?’

  ‘With the Marines down, the trap set for me will be dismantled as the gunmen run very quickly away. Might find some evidence, but I doubt it.’

  Thinking, I called Katowski. ‘It’s Wilco. I want helos looking inland for a drugs lab we suspect is close to the port, pass that on.’

  ‘It’s nasty damn bush here, sir, mangrove, salt water, would take a week to go a mile on foot, just one road.’

  ‘Take a look down that road then, helos searching.’

  ‘We raid it?’

  ‘Sneak up first, it could be wired to blow. Watch your feet, place has ten thousand anti-personnel mines in boxes left over from Christmas.’

  ‘I'll discuss it with CO, sir.’

  ‘Wilco out.’

  Big Sasha appeared an hour later. ‘You want something cooked?’

  ‘Never say no.’

  An Hispanic man in a smart shirt stepped in, a note for me. He withdrew without saying anything. The note relayed that a Hercules and a Skyvan were available.

  I went and found him behind a computer. ‘I want both planes ready today, fuelled, but we’re waiting.’ I showed him the map and he would relay the trip to the pilots.

  An hour later, as I sat with Big Sasha and a few guards, the same man returned. ‘Sir, a pilot says that he knows the drop point, and that he landed there a month ago.’

  ‘What did he pick up?’

  ‘He unloaded desalination equipment, solar panels, chemicals, wood and nails.’

  ‘So, someone has a business there. Why desalination?’

  ‘There is salt water inland, and can be converted to fresh water. There is little fresh water.’

  ‘Ah, OK, thanks.’

  Tiny came down, a huge smile for me, and grabbed a coffee, soon followed by Gay Dave.

  ‘Sleep OK? I asked him.

  ‘Salome had the bed, I had the sofa, but it was OK.’

  Salome and Suzy joined us, Salome barefoot and in a t-shirt that hid nothing, Big Sasha cooking, talk of anything apart from work.

  My phone trilled. ‘Can you talk?’

  ‘Yes.’ I stepped away.

  ‘GCHQ. We have a phone fix on Debonet and two others, they're in that jungle base as we speak - and using their phones.’

  ‘Great, thanks.’

  I called Harris. ‘Listen, the main player, Debonet, he's at the second location in Nicaragua, so I'll go after him, try and get him alive and get some answers. There's a road west from the target camp, just a track, then a tarmac road. Ask the navy to bomb that tarmac road, and look for a bridge over water on the dirt track and down it. And straight away.’

  ‘I'll talk to them now.’

  I rushed to the guy behind the computer. ‘Both aircraft, now, fast!’

  He picked up a phone. I rushed around to the bunk house and found Moran and Ginger sipping coffee. ‘Get everyone up now! We leave soon, kitted for war! Get fresh water.’

  I rushed around to the room used by Running Bear's men. They were awake, sat chatting and sipping coffee. ‘Get ready, we leave real soon! Get fresh water!’

  I shouted at a second manager in a shirt and tie to get us jeeps and trucks for the airfield.

  ‘Where you off?’ Tiny asked.

  ‘The swamp. You and Suzy, and Gay Dave, you go around Panama City today looking for Canadians, every nice hotel. Get ready soon. Have Dave dress like me and … don't let him speak.

  ‘If someone shows an interest in him, consider them your targets – to be taken alive! Wait, there are Russians that would recognise me, and a few government ministers, so chose carefully. Have some of Tomsk's people with you, but not big strong men that will stand out.

  ‘Salome, you go with them, dressed nice, carry a pistol, you protect them as well as look out for a Canadian four-man team. And be careful all of you.’

  ‘I am a soldier,’ Salome protested.

  ‘You're a spy, so practise being one.’

  Running Bear came running, already kitted out. ‘We off some place nice?’

  ‘The swamp. Get extra fresh water to take, none there.’

  I asked Big Sasha for large plastic water bottles, and he had two. We filled them and sealed them as Moran, Ginger and Mitch strode in.

  ‘Here, grab these,’ I told them, handing over the water. ‘Fuck all water where we're going, but it should be a one-day operation hopefully.’

  Outside, the teams were assembling. ‘Slider, do I have to shout at you to go get Tomo?’

  He rushed inside, and we could hear the shouting from outside, Nicholson and Swan laughing. They had backpacks, water bottles now inside.

  ‘Headcount your teams. Swifty, you take British and American Wolves, Team Bravo.’

  Weapons were checked, kit checked, and I spoke to most of the lads, Tomo eventually turning up and being jeered at. Running Bear and his men grouped, and we soon had jeeps and a bus to utilize.

  ‘Slider, go check every room in there, and shoot if you have to.’

  Cursing, he ran back into the bunkhouse.

  ‘Tomo, get fresh water or you'll die out there.’ He ran back inside with two Wolves. I grabbed one magazine each off six men, filling my bandolier. ‘Listen up, you sloppy bunch, I want to see tourniquets showing!’

  They adjusted themselves, Nicholson and Swan pointing at theirs as Running Bear checked his men over.

  Next I called, ‘Check pistols, all of you.’

  Men unloaded and re-loaded, a few barrels peered down.

  ‘OK, if you need the toilet, do it at the airstrip, but the flight is an hour or two only. Swifty, you got the Skyvan, check the loading with the pilot. I think you need three men with us on the Hercules to be safe.’

  Inside, I grabbed the map and folded it, placing it inside a plastic bag. Outside, I shouted, ‘Listen up.’ They all faced me. ‘We'll go from here to the airstrip, from there in two planes up to Nicaragua, to the east coast area, sparsely populated, and there's fuck all drinking water, ground water is saline.

  ‘We'll land on a road or abort, and when down we walk southwest ten miles to find a jungle hideout. In that hideout is a high-value target or two, and we want them alive.

  ‘What we do know is that they were expecting us, traps laid, but that has now changed and they're running scared. If they placed mines ... the mines are still there, so careful where you walk.

  ‘If we get the main man, we pull out and get the US Navy to extract us. Right, all of you sloppy bunch, check sat phones and make safe weapons for the flight!’

  My phone trilled. ‘It’s Harris, and the Navy has agreed to bomb the roads. They lift off soon.’

  ‘Great. Warn the Navy that a civvy Hercules and Skyvan will transport us soon to that jungle camp, and not to shoot us down please.’

  ‘OK, I'll update them now.’

  ‘Have helos ready for casevac and to get any prisoners. Have SEALs ready to come support us.’ Phone away, I shouted, ‘Head count, get aboard the transport!’

  We arrived at the strip twenty minutes later, the Skyvan already here. Down from the bus I was informed by the old No.7 that the Hercules was fifteen minutes away. F
or five minutes I caught up on gossip with him; he now had a local wife.

  I finally led Swifty and his team to the Skyvan, enquiries made of loading to an Hispanic pilot. I showed him the map and the target land zone, but it was easy to find - there were no other roads.

  Engines started, they taxied around and took off, soon climbing north, but our Hercules was much faster and we'd probably be there first.

  With the drone abating we waited in the sunshine, kit checked again, a heavy drone finally announcing the arrival of a white and red very non-stealthy Hercules, a dusty touchdown and reverse thrust, the teams running aboard. A burst of power and we were off, the nose soon up.

  I went forwards and knelt, the spare headsets on, two Russians at the controls. In Russian I described the landing area.

  ‘We have been, yes,’ they acknowledged. ‘Long straight road, OK to land.’

  Sat down, Rizzo had his arms folded and eyes closed already. I shook my head. Mouri offered me some chocolate, Nicholson reading a paperback.

  On the hour we started our descent, and I peered down at green scrub, tight bushes and trees, but patches of white sand seen, winding water ways, mangrove swamp, and no roads or buildings at all. It was a bad place to crash land.

  Lined up, I waved at the teams to get ready, and we touched down smoothly, braking hard, the ramp down, and off we ran and to the side of the road, all round defence as the Hercules roared and pulled away.

  As it fell quiet I stood tall and peered around at small trees and green bushes in hot still air, Swifty's team running in to us from where they had landed down the road. If this was the right spot, then the small hill north was my marker. When Swifty drew near I shouted, ‘On me, on the double!’

  I ran south along sandy tracks, and to a small hill, halting and observing the teams close in. ‘Thread radios, headcount and sound off.’

  I could hear the chatter and the counts. ‘Running Bear, you hear me?’

  ‘Yeah, we're on your frequency.’

  ‘Listen up. This small hill and the one north are the markers I expected, so this looks like the right spot. Have a drink, get ready.’

  I called SIS London and asked for a position fix. They came back with coordinates, and I checked the map. We were in the right place, and not in Costa Rica.

  ‘On me!’