Wilco- Lone Wolf 19

by Geoff Wolak

  I smiled. ‘Send it to David straight away.’ I called Langley, the Deputy Chief.

  ‘Wilco?’

  ‘I got some good news for you.’

  ‘Thank god.’

  ‘I got the paymaster.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘Hong King billionaire.’

  ‘Chinese!’

  ‘The Chinese Government is not involved, relax. This guy is pissed at your for two reasons. One, during the Vietnam War you sank his nice cargo ships. And two, his son is on death row in Los Angeles.’

  ‘His name?’

  ‘Li Xing.’

  ‘God damn, we reviewed him a month back, suspicious contacts with North Korea.’

  ‘Go review him again. And he insured the ships that sank, or were boarded, and he included clauses for ships being sunk or blown up or boarded. The recipient … is Terotski.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘London will send you files today, we have Terotski's company, and his bank in the Caymans. Ask David Finch in … an hour.’

  ‘Where'd the intel come from?’

  ‘You don't want to know.’

  ‘Tomsk?’

  ‘Like I said, you don't want to know.’

  ‘If it comes from London I can use it.’

  ‘Do me a favour, and don't start a war with China just yet, eh.’

  ‘Jesus...’

  ‘And don't shoot the poor messenger.’

  I went and found Franks and Dick. ‘We got the paymaster and a line on Terotski. The paymaster is a Hong Kong billionaire.’

  ‘The Chinese?’

  I held up a hand. ‘No Chinese involvement, this guy is mad at you because you sank his ships in the Vietnam War, his son on death row in Los Angeles. He insured the ships used here, and the pay-out goes to Terotki's company. We have the detail, and Terotski's bank in the Caymans.’

  ‘And the source?’

  ‘You don't want to know.’

  ‘Tomsk?’

  ‘Like I said, you don't want to know.’

  ‘Langley knows?’

  ‘They'll get a formal notification from London today.’

  I led Salome to a quiet spot. ‘The paymaster behind all this is a Li Xing, Hong Kong billionaire, running smuggled goods to North Korea, guns out. He's mad at the Yanks for sinking his ships in the Vietnam War, his son on death row in Los Angeles. And we have a line on Terotski, his companies and his banks.’

  ‘I talk to Tel Aviv now, I look good from this.’

  ‘Was there a thank you in there?’

  ‘I did not hear one. How about dinner?’

  ‘How about you wear a bra?’

  She shrugged a shoulder and walked off.

  David called fifteen minutes later. ‘We had a lengthy fax, and I recognised the style, so thank our friend.’

  ‘I'm sure he appreciates the thanks,’ I quipped. ‘I've already spoken to Langley, but make it look formal - and from you. They're expecting it – so ask for favours. Lots of favours.’

  ‘If we get Terotski we will.’

  ‘Go to work, Boss, and enjoy having one over on the CIA.’

  ‘Well, since we trained you know who … we can claim the credit.’

  ‘Definitely.’ I spoke to Max and gave him the story. ‘Go sell it to CNN before they find out.’

  ‘I have to be nice to them.’

  ‘Why!’ I demanded, suspicious of Max.

  ‘They've … offered me some work, a weekly slot.’ He shrugged.

  ‘That’s two drinks each you owe the lads, you little shit.’

  Up on the terminal roof I stood staring out, thinking about nice friendly dolphins getting bombed by the Navy. My phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘It’s Taggard, and we got two wee small planes with rockets on-'

  ‘Incoming!’ I shouted. ‘Snipers, aircraft coming in. Haines, get your men out the trees and aiming up!’ I cut the call and stepped to the west wall. ‘Incoming! Get to cover!’

  Pilots and technicians ran in, Max ran out with the Press officers and to a trench, cameras at the ready.

  Turning, I shouted at the two fifty cal positions, ‘Aim up at an aircraft, coming in from the north! Get ready!’

  Staring north I could see the Wolves dispersing in a hurry, and I checked my rifle, soon hearing the buzz. Then I saw them, coming in fast just above the trees north. As soon as the two aircraft cleared the trees 2 Squadron fired up, the cackle reaching us, one of the aircraft now smoking as it came on.

  The smoking aircraft climbed steeply over the Wolf tents and did a barrel roll whilst getting peppered from below, not that it looked like the pilot wanted to do a barrel roll, and it drifted west a little as the black smoke bled out of it.

  Smoke from the second aircraft, and suddenly two rockets were coming in, but they dropped and hit the north wall of the collapsed building, two loud blasts as we all started to fire at the aircraft, the fifty cal behind me pounding out rounds, my snipers pounding out loud rounds just as the first aircraft decided it wanted to go hump a poor defenceless Huey.

  The tangled metal result of that mating attempt rolled in flames on the grass as the roar of the second aircraft filled the air. It passed overhead close enough to touch, now smoking, and veered east, slamming into the already-wrecked ATC. It burst into flames, its tail sticking out of where the ATC operators would have sat, the wings bent backwards and now enveloped in black smoke.

  The Marines snipers, thinking better of it, jumped onto a lower roof and then down, kit abandoned.

  Haines shouted, ‘We have wounded!’

  ‘How?’ I puzzled.

  ‘From this fucking lot firing at that plane! The ground near my men was peppered with rounds.’

  I leant over the wall. ‘Medics! Wounded at the treeline north.’

  ‘We have a truck we use,’ they shouted up, and they ran off.

  I faced Haines. ‘Plane was low, so … yeah, bad planning. How badly they wounded?’

  ‘Got a scrape, a ricochet and a through and through. They'll live, but this is the first fucking day! And it’s a balls up!’

  My phone trilled. ‘Wilco, it’s Taggard.’

  ‘We shot down those two aircraft, some damage here, Huey destroyed, three men wounded.’

  ‘Nay too bad then, considering what might have happened.’

  ‘The wounded were down to friendly fire.’

  ‘Ah, that could have gone better.’

  ‘Thanks anyway, a timely warning.’

  ‘There's a wee bit of high ground with tall lonely tree, so I'll stick a man up it.’

  I stepped to the west wall, the Huey mangled with the prop aircraft well ablaze, no one trying to tackle the fire.

  I heard the whistle, three blasts just beyond the runway. ‘Incoming! Get to cover!’ I turned. ‘Get off the roof, all of you!’

  A mad scrambled followed, way too many men up here. I was the last to leave, the black smoke now blowing this way from the ATC as it burnt.

  Down in the terminal building I said to Haines, ‘You take my new regular SAS troop, put them in the middle of the treeline, replace your men.’

  He did not have his happy face on. ‘Hit by friendly fire on day one, three men down.’

  ‘Best laid plans, eh.’

  I led him to Stiffy. ‘Grab your kit, double time north to the central treeline area, you now work for Mister Haines. Set a good ambush point, rotate the stag, do what Mister Haines tells you – or else.’

  They lifted backpacks and checked rifles, Haines leading them out, the smell of smoke all pervasive now.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ the Colonel asked as I joined him around the command table.

  ‘Two small aircraft with rockets. We've seen them in Africa, been on the receiving end a few times. And then mortars hit the airfield.’

  The radio operator reported, ‘Ships had a partial track, two small bogeys flying north to south across the Nicaraguan border.’

  ‘That’s … a hundred and twenty mile
s from here, but within range,’ I noted. I turned to Franks. ‘Find an airfield in Nicaragua that could have launched those aircraft, and find out who owns them – they don't come cheap and they need licenses.’

  He stepped away, phone to his ear.

  ‘The Nicaraguan Army?’ the Colonel asked.

  ‘Could be, sir, if they were paid well enough.’ I turned to the radio operator. ‘Have experts from ship flown out to look at the aircraft and their rockets, we need serial numbers. When they cool down a bit.’

  The message was sent.

  The medic colonel stepped in. ‘Any more wounded?’

  ‘Not that I know of, sir, just the three men north. And when you're ready, those fires out, I want the charred body parts, I want ID cards and phones, bodies to Panama City for forensics.’

  ‘The damn pilots are burnt to a crisp,’ he noted before he stepped out.

  The building shook, two hits to the roof, part of the roof coming down along with a tonne of white dust, people ducking. The final mortar landed near the brick buildings, our showers demolished.

  I turned my head. ‘Rizzo, get men in Hueys, those mortars are two to three miles north east. Go get them! Major Spencer, get the Hueys up!’

  Rizzo led many of the Echo lads out to the apron as pilots risked running to their Hueys, the news teams filming.

  I finally faced the Colonel. ‘They're toying with us. Question is … why?’

  ‘What do you mean, toying with us?’

  ‘Terotski would never believe such aircraft would do any good here.’

  ‘This smacks of the cartel,’ the Colonel noted. ‘They want casualties.’

  ‘No way they'd risk upsetting your government like that, they never have done before. They saw an opportunity with Terotski to kill the local drug lord, but now … now this is all very odd. The paymaster might want casualties, but he'd not get support from the cartels.’

  ‘The paymaster?’

  I led him outside, the helos making a noise. ‘A Hong Kong billionaire, links to North Korea, and he hates Americans. In the Vietnam War you sank his cargo ships and never said sorry, and his son is on death row in Los Angeles.’

  ‘Jesus. So this guy wants revenge, and casualties here.’

  ‘I'm not so sure. We have Terotski with his missiles from North Korea, shipped by Li Xing, to be used to kill Tomsk and myself, although Terotski and Li Xing had no direct interest in this place. We have a cartel or two that wants to get in here, and they need me out the way, and they would have accepted help from Terotski.

  ‘But Terotski recruited people and then let them all get caught and killed, he seems to have wanted the ships sunk to get paid the insurance – we found out today, so Terotski got a billion dollars for what?’

  ‘Not for a customising a few old missiles.’

  ‘And what would he do with the money anyhow? If he hates us then he works for free, just board and lodging. Why is he financially motivated, and what will the money be ultimately used for? And why the lame-arsed attacks here? He's giving your military good TV minutes, which is exactly what your lot want.

  ‘He's playing with us, and he led me here. The things that spoilt his plans might have been the crashed transport, and me getting lucky with the intel; we've moved faster than he could have imagined.

  ‘The cartel must be pissed off with him, and Li Xing hasn't hurt your military, and Terotski has lost his minions.’

  ‘So who paid those pilots?’ the Colonel posed. ‘The dead burnt pilots.’ We took in the smouldering wreck of a Huey tangled with a small prop aircraft.

  ‘That’s the question, sir.’

  ‘If those mines had damaged the Nimitz we'd look weak, and this Hong Kong man gets his revenge.’

  ‘That part I agree with, and this is the first step towards satisfying Li Xing, but those mines would have taken six months to build.’

  ‘And if the cruise missiles had hit their targets?’

  ‘I'd be gone, and the local drug lord would be gone, and the Medellin and the Tiujana cartels would move in here, a lucrative area.’

  ‘Maybe you're giving them too much credit.’

  I shook my head. ‘Attempt on my life in London was a set-up, attack on my base was lame, to get me involved. Terotski knew I would follow the intel trail to Nicaragua. Rockets here meant I would come, he knew that, so he made a good plan.’

  ‘But failed when the missiles failed, so he's now trying mines to satisfy his paymaster.’

  ‘There's no way I believe that the cartels would attack your troops. So who's still pissing about down here, sir, and why? What good does it do here?’

  ‘Keeps you here, keeps your men here, not protecting the drug lord.’

  I pulled a face. ‘They'd need a small army to get to him, and everyone is an informant around here. Strangers would be seen. If they have that army, why the missile at his villa?’

  ‘There are two cartels involved here, plus Terotski, plus the paymaster. Maybe they don't see eye-to-eye on strategy. Three groups and four opinions.’

  I raised a finger and called GCHQ. ‘You have a man who's expert on the cartels?’

  ‘Yes, hold on.’

  ‘Wilco, that you?’

  ‘How's the Tiujana Cartel organised, compared to Lobos?’

  ‘Very similar, a dozen lords, then captains, lieutenants and falcons.’

  ‘No single boss?’

  ‘There have been bosses, but they never last very long.’

  ‘And Medellin?’

  ‘Very different, they're mostly related, a hierarchy going back decades.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I faced the Colonel. ‘The Tiujana Cartel is an octopus with ten legs.’

  ‘And ten different opinions. And some of them want this territory.’

  My phone trilled, Bob Staines. ‘Hey No.1.’

  The Colonel puzzled the reference.

  ‘I'm still looking at Li Xing, who hasn't been seen in public for weeks according to the Hong Kong press. He has a fleet of ships, some of which touch Central America, so he could move missiles that way, from North Korea to Nicaragua.

  ‘But what caught my eye was his small fleet of oil tankers. They operate around West Africa; Nigeria, Liberia, Sierra Leone.’

  ‘Ah … shit.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They want rid of Tomsk, the cartels - to get his drugs, but what about his oil and the new inland pipeline?’

  ‘That could be worth billions, yes. Not as lucrative as the drugs, but with oil they don't risk getting arrested,’ Bob noted.

  ‘Would Li Xing want to get at the oil?’

  ‘Given that the CIA want him dead, he'd find it hard to operate. He certainly doesn't have any long-term plans, career wise, 9mm bullet to the back of the head being the next step. Whatever the plan was … it would never work now, too much publicity.

  ‘The Americans will issue sanctions and freeze assets, so no company will deal with Li Xing. I'd be surprised if a restaurant lets him in.’

  ‘They want him dead now, but not when he hatched this plan, and that had to be a year back,’ I pointed out. ‘No.1, look for a financial link between him and the cartels and oil.’

  ‘I honestly think that the cartels don't advertise where they invest their cash.’

  ‘No, but I have friends in low places. Talk soon.’ I called Tomsk as the Colonel saluted back and then chatted to Marines captains reporting something. ‘Listen, do you know anything about where the Tiujana Cartel and Medellin invest their cash?’

  ‘In many places, like me.’

  ‘I think they want your oil, as well as the drugs. The paymaster behind this is servicing your rigs.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Li Xing, Hong Kong billionaire.’

  ‘Hong Kong? Never been there, never met any Chinese.’

  ‘He's mad at the Americans, and he moved missiles from North Korea to Nicaragua. He paid Terotski a billion dollars, or will do, or may do if the insurance is collected, because Terotski
insured those ships with him.’

  ‘They don't pay out when you commit a crime and sink a ship.’

  ‘Special policy, and yes they will pay out. It was a set-up so that Li Xing could pay Terotski without being seen. Are Medellin invested in oil?’

  ‘There was a rumour that they invest a lot in Petrobras.’

  ‘And Petrobras are screwing around in West Africa, and would like your oil deal. First they need to move me out the way, because the President of Liberia does what I say, and they need me out the way here – to get to you.’

  ‘Petrobras was audited and many people fired, the Brazilian Government involved. The men involved with West Africa were fired, or sent to prison.’

  ‘So who else could grab your oil deal?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, if they kill you and me, and the president, anyone could move in, deal with a new president.’

  ‘Ask around, find out where Medellin puts its money.’ I called Mike Papa.

  ‘Ah, Petrov, long time.’

  ‘Get out of your palace, find a new place, get ready for someone trying to kill you with a large cruise missile fired from the ships that service your oil platforms.’

  ‘My god. Who … who's behind this?’

  ‘The Medellin and Tiujana drug cartels want Tomsk gone, and all of his empire in their hands. And they have a great deal of cash. Get hiding, and get ready, and try and get spies on those ships, Hong Kong owned ships. And fast.’

  ‘I will make plans now, thanks.’

  I called Bob Staines as the Hueys returned and loudly set down, the Colonel still chatting. ‘No.1, try and link the oil ships servicing Tomsk's oil platforms off Liberia, with someone they should not be linked with. And ask Leon if he knows where Medellin invest their cash, any oil companies.’

  I called SIS London. ‘It’s Wilco. I want all our forces in Liberia and Sierra Leone on maximum alert, attack probable, have them spread out. Oh, and the RAF flight down there, have them patrol the coast, and ships off Liberia, Navy as well. Wilco out.’

  I greeted Rizzo and the gang as they returned.

  ‘We pasted them, eight men, three tubes.’

  ‘Got a fix on the location?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Ask Major Spencer, the Hispanic major, to get the tubes and the bodies.’

  ‘Spencer?’

  ‘His father was an America soldier here.’