Wilco- Lone Wolf 19

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘Ah. Probably a few of those around. He was here during the war was he?’

  ‘What war?’

  ‘The Second World War.’

  ‘No, dope, the Americans have protected the Panama Canal for a hundred years.’

  ‘That’s here?’

  ‘We're in Panama, you fuckwit.’

  ‘Wilco!’ the Colonel barked, and not with his happy face on.

  ‘Sir?’ I puzzled.

  ‘What the fuck are those?’

  I followed his finger south to red tents being put up. ‘They … appear to be circus tents, sir.’

  ‘You invited in a fucking circus?!’

  ‘No, sir, I asked the airport manager for more large tents.’

  ‘Did you ask for a bearded lady and a strong man act!’

  ‘They keep the rain off, sir, even if they have writing on them and … pictures of tigers.’

  He shook his head at me.

  Stood thinking as some of the helos were serviced, I called Tinker. ‘It’s me. Get GCHQ looking at ships tracks off Liberia, the oil tankers that take the oil from Liberia. Work on the assumption that one has a cruise missile on it aimed at the President of Liberia.’

  ‘Bloody hell. Does he have a tin hat?’

  ‘I warned him. And look at all the companies involved with the oil, and those that would like to be involved with the oil by underhand means. Get Mutch on it, I want to know what the rumours are in small rooms smelling of large oily workers.’

  ‘I'll get him on it now, he's on the range. And he lost some weight.’

  ‘My god, Mutch training to be a soldier.’

  ‘Well, let’s not go that far, eh.’

  I called Admiral Jacobs.

  ‘Wilco, you still in Panama?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You damn well destroyed that airfield, we see it on the news.’

  ‘I'd like to point out that people attacking me destroyed it, sir, not my men on a drunken rampage.’

  ‘We're all jealous here, you giving the limelight to another carrier group. Traitor...’

  I smiled. ‘Well I have something for you. You have ships off West Africa, sir?’

  ‘A few, most are in the Red Sea area still.’

  ‘Send those ships in West Africa to Liberia, to protect the president there.’

  ‘Protect him, he's wanted!’

  ‘He's also being targeted by Terotski, and people who want his oil, a cruise missile to be fired from a ship. If you get the ship and the missiles, you piss of Terotski.’

  ‘We'll get the damn ship,’ he threatened.

  ‘And tell your nautical types to avoid getting sunk by a cruise missile, eh.’

  ‘No shit. Talk soon.’

  Phone down, the CNN crew were looking less than fresh, and now worried. I smiled. ‘It’s OK to stop and say … it seemed like a good idea at the time.’

  The nice lady presenter squinted at me.

  Thinking, I walked to the assistant manager, his office now with a hole in it and dust everywhere. Still, he didn't seem to give a shit. I handed him more cash, and asked that he get a tape deck and some tapes. He knew of a local shop.

  At 4pm I had what I wanted, and he tested the loudspeakers with a horrendous squeak that shocked people, everyone wincing. Tape deck positioned, button pressed, and ‘Bird is the word' belted out.

  Back in the terminal, tired faces were smiling, a few pilots seen dancing, the news crews filming as technicians gave them a V-victory finger sign.

  The Colonel told me with a smile, ‘This is not another Vietnam, no conscripts here.’

  ‘Take a look outside, sir, this is more Vietnam than Vietnam was. We have hot sticky weather, we have sandbags and trenches and Marines and … Charlie on the wire. We even have circus tents.’

  The Rolling Stones belted out, followed by ‘we gotta get out of this place', young Marines singing and smiling.

  With the music finally off, half an hour later, the Colonel noted, ‘A morale booster for the younger men, yes. Good to see them smiling.’

  ‘I get the feeling that we're being spoon fed these attacks, sir, to keep me out of West Africa, where some bad boys are after some other bad boy's oil.’

  ‘Liberia?’

  ‘More oil than people realise, sir, a shit load.’

  ‘A tempting target yes, as it was before your military got involved. Are we in the wrong place?’

  ‘If our aim is to win the war in the media and to boost recruitment, then no, Terotski is handing us all we want – deliberately or otherwise. And I have your navy looking for the bad boys off the coast of Liberia.’

  ‘He's handing us what we want … to distract us?’

  ‘He is, and he was, but with all the publicity he could never achieve his plans, at least his paymaster never could. His paymaster is the world's most wanted as of today, Terotski second place. Life after this would be hard for them, and the cartels. They misjudged this.’

  ‘So what they waiting for?’

  ‘More missiles to arrive maybe.’

  ‘Or to fix those they have. They're old missiles.’

  I nodded as I considered that. ‘Yes, sir, twenty years old at least I reckon.’

  My phone trilled, Deputy Chief. ‘Just been to the White House. They've made the Chinese an offer they couldn't refuse: hand over all they know about Li Xing and the man himself or face massive sanctions and financial penalties, a trillion dollars worth.’

  ‘Do they have him?’

  ‘We don't know, but they won't keep him for that kind of money.’

  ‘Hong Kong is only just Chinese territory again, by a few months, they have extradition treaties with The West.’

  ‘We have the authorities there looking for him, his home found empty, just servants. And the order went out to board all of his ships worldwide.’

  ‘Good. Gotta go, I'll call you back.’ I called Tomsk. ‘The oil ships off Liberia will be searched by the Americans, do you move illegal items on any - going to Liberia?’

  ‘Not illegal items no. Machinery, oil parts and stuff.’

  ‘And your ships for the drugs, best not use them for a little while, Americans are stopping and searching.’

  ‘Not to worry, they don't find any drugs even if they look,’ he told me with a lilt.

  I called Harris on ship and updated him at length. He took notes.

  He finally said, ‘Given the publicity, how could they go ahead with whatever they had planned?’

  ‘That’s the puzzler.’

  Harris began, ‘If Terotski just wants to hurt The West, so too this Li Xing, it might make sense to keep going, but so far they've been a bit lame, they're not focused on revenge but rather getting into Panama – now Liberia. First sign of vengeance was those mines, all very clever, and if the Nimitz was damaged or sunk the impact would be huge.’

  Franks came running, a look of horror on his face.

  ‘Got to go.’

  Franks explained, ‘A cruise liner was hit with a missile!’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Off Jamaica.’

  ‘Get me the exact position.’ He made a call, and I looked at the map as the news spread. I called GCHQ and asked that they look at ships tracks within fifty miles of the location of the attack.

  Phone lowered, the Colonel noted, ‘Cruise ships like that have five thousand people on board, and never enough life boats!’

  David Finch called. ‘Wilco, you heard about the cruise liner?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Two bits of good news. First, she was empty of passengers, off for an engine overhaul. And second, she's not on fire, missile detonated short by a hundred yards and blew out all the windows. Six crew killed so far.’

  ‘So we were lucky. Again.’

  ‘Every agency in the world is now looking for Terotski.’

  ‘He realises he doesn't have long left, so he doesn't care about his original plan, this is now about anger.’

  ‘You scuppered his ori
ginal plan as far as Tomsk goes, so yes – he's now a dangerous animal.’

  Off the phone, I told the command team, ‘That cruise ship was empty apart from the crew, off for an engine overhaul – so Terotski is being lax with his research. And it’s not on fire, just had all its windows blown out on one side.’

  I heaved a heavy sigh and took in their faces. ‘Terotski knows he's lost, so this is about maximum casualties. It’s going to get nasty, very nasty; he just tried to sink a ship he thought had five thousand pensioners on it.’

  The Colonel noted, ‘It smacks as a last desperate act – he knows he's beaten.’

  ‘True. So, how many missiles left in his garage, sir?’

  ‘He got the intel wrong, the ship empty, so … this was not planned, his was never part of the original plan, this was a quick decision.’

  ‘I said it before, sir, you're not as dumb as you look.’

  ‘I got to colonel because I deserved it,’ he said with a grin. ‘That and I bribed the right people.’

  ‘That missile was made ready and launched not far from here, so … maybe Terotski is down here. Nicaragua maybe, screwdriver in hand.’

  ‘Or he fixed the missile beforehand and passed it to the cartel idiots.’

  I shook my head. ‘They don't want your Army down on their heads.’

  ‘So who would?’

  ‘Maybe … the people who lost ten tonnes of drugs.’

  ‘And who were they, exactly?’

  ‘Nicaraguan drug cartel dealing with the Mexicans, but I have no penetration of them. Hold on.’ I took out my phone and stepped outside, calling Carlos.

  ‘Si.’

  ‘Carlos the Kitten, CEO of all he surveys?’

  ‘No need to test your identify.’

  ‘The drugs that were taken from the Mexican police lock-up, what do you know?’

  ‘A man came over to our side, his own people wanting him dead; we got his family out. The drugs were taken when the police were bribed to look the other way, by Ramirez Cholos, who wants to be the new king of Tiujana, but few want that title – all were killed quickly.’

  ‘Ramirez Cholos, a lord.’

  ‘Yes, stupid titles they have. He has the biggest gang, a good pipeline north. He runs a town west of me forty miles.’

  ‘Interesting. And he lost face because he lost the drugs, lost money..?’

  ‘Yes, so now he is hurting.’

  ‘Why were the drugs on that ship that the Americans grabbed?’

  ‘They were not supposed to be, this man tells me. They were to go to Jamaica and a plane to West Canada.’

  ‘Canada? Why Canada?’ I asked.

  ‘Easy to get back into America from Canada, no border patrols like here, not even a fence.’

  ‘Someone grabbed the drugs,’ I noted.

  ‘Someone not afraid of the cartel. But they would need the ship's crew to cooperate.’

  ‘Why the hell would Cholos trust the crew?’ I wondered.

  ‘They must have been a known crew, guaranteed by someone or something.’

  ‘Guaranteed by a few cruise missiles aimed at Tomsk maybe.’

  ‘Well, yes, that would do it. Maybe this Russian man on the news showed Cholos the missiles, promised to kill Tomsk, offered to sell the drugs.’

  ‘Terotski could never move ten tonnes of drugs, unless … got to go.’

  I called Tinker. ‘It’s me. Is there a link between HTZ in Holland and any other medical opioid producers? Tell me there's one in Canada.’

  ‘There is one in Canada, yes, they have direct links – and suspicious links to the old Belgian bank.’

  ‘Were they investigated?’

  ‘Not seen a note to that effect yet.’

  ‘Their name?’

  ‘Pharma Northern. Toronto.’

  I called Langley, the Deputy Chief.

  ‘Wilco? Is it good news or bad news?’

  ‘Go see the directors of Pharma Northern, medical opioid company in Toronto, and tell them to come clean or face the electric chair for terrorism.’

  ‘They took dodgy drugs?’

  ‘I think so, and were about to take the drugs on the ship, Cortez. Terotski organised it, and Terotski screwed over the Tiujana Cartel, at least one of the lords.’

  ‘If he screwed one of the lords, is he chatting to another?’

  ‘That’s … a good point, could be. But I think Terotski is all done and washed up now, too much publicity. Oh, and make ready planes to move many of the teams here to Arizona, done quietly, we're going back into Mexico to kill a few people.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Ramirez Cholos, top lord in the Tiujana Cartel. His pipeline operation is close to Carlos the Jackal.’

  ‘Is he sat there?’

  ‘No idea, but the least we can do is take his toys off him.’

  Call ended, I returned to the Colonel. ‘Tiujana Cartel boss, Ramirez Cholos, bribed the Mexican police and got the drugs to the Cortez, which was supposed to dock in Jamaica, a flight to West Canada, the drugs to go south into the States. Terotski stole the drugs, bound for a medical opioid company in Toronto.’

  ‘Jesus, that’s a hell of a phone you have there. Does it call God?’

  I smiled, ‘I have friends in low places, sir, relationships built up over the years. Anyhow, I'll move most of the teams to the States, ready for an attack into Mexico.’

  ‘The White House will sanction that?’

  ‘Hell no, and they never did the last time.’

  ‘The fighting with Lobos...’

  ‘You might think I was involved, sir, I could not possibly comment.’

  He shook his head. ‘And here, what do we expect?’

  ‘That’s the puzzler, sir, who's paying ... and why the lame attacks.’

  ‘So we sit and absorb them?’

  ‘There are many aspects to this operation, sir. First, hunt down any more rockets, stop more moving in and hitting Panama. Second, to de-facilitate the drug gangs here so they're not in a position to do anything other than get a day job.

  ‘Third, to absorb any attacks, and track back who's doing it, to collate the intel. And finally, but most importantly, to get some good TV minutes.’

  ‘I can handle all that. What teams will you take?’

  ‘My men, Running Bear and his small team, the Wolves. Rest stay here, SEALs and Green Berets, you rotate them as you see fit. British SAS here are under your command. And any local hearts and minds is good, TV interview with local TV stations.’

  ‘I've given a few interviews already.’

  ‘Sir, please think carefully before you talk, because some of what I've shared with you would end your career if discussed in the wrong circles; you own government would shoot you.’

  ‘Hard to know where the damn line is,’ he complained.

  ‘Welcome to my life, sir. A lot of the time I think I'm a tightrope walker with a man on my back.’

  I called Running Bear and had Major Morgen send helos to fetch his team, the Wolves told to get ready to relocate, Echo told to get ready to re-locate. And to take our crates. I called Colonel Mathews and confirmed a movement order, three Hercules to come collect us after dark – and not to fly over Nicaraguan or Costa Rican airspace. Or Mexican airspace. Belize airspace was probably OK.

  ‘Who will you take over the border?’

  ‘Can I take the American Wolves?’

  ‘A few months back the answer would have been a very loud no, but after Lobos things changed, and now – this week - there are no rules. No one will give a shit if you take them, the people and the government want a high body count.’

  I went and found the Wolves captain and his sergeant. ‘I'm taking your Wolves on a job, but it’s borderline legal, literally on the border, so you and the NCOs remain here, and you can't get the blame.’

  ‘We stay?’ they unhappily repeated.

  ‘Yes, safer for you that way, and … this job is dangerous. If we lose a Wolf it’s a bad day, if you lose you two kill
ed – it’s hard to explain and hard to replace you. We'll be back in a few days.’

  Later, Moran asked about our new SAS regular troop.

  ‘We leave them here, they get some experience, but I'll take our four spies,’ I suggested. I called Major Taggard. ‘How is it up there?’

  ‘Nice spot, not bad jungle like Liberia, a bit sandy underfoot, not too many creepy crawlies like Africa. No one shooting at us yet so I'm getting a tan.’

  ‘I'm taking Echo and the Wolves on a job, be a few days, could be a week. 2 Squadron will hold the treeline, and they have my regular troop there. Keep an eye on them, you have the rank, but you answer to the Colonel here.’

  ‘We expecting more attacks here?’

  ‘I think just a few lame attacks, but even they can kill you, so stay sharp up there.’

  ‘We're dug in tight, we've set-up a few ambush points ready, trip wires, patrols out.’

  ‘Sounds organised. I may see you in a few days.’

  I checked with Haines, and his wounded men had gone by helo to ship after being stabilized in the tents. At least, the man with the through-and-through had been stabilized, not much to do with the scrape till specialist kit was to hand, the ricochet dug out and stitched up.

  They would get good care, I told him, unless the carrier was hit by a cruise missile, or hit a plastic mine shaped like a dolphin. He was not amused.

  ‘Look,’ I told him. ‘I had Max report that they were hit by enemy fire in the treeline, not friendly fire. The reputation of 2 Squadron is intact.’

  He was still not a happy bunny.

  I led my four SIS spies to one side. ‘This next part is where you test your sphincters. We're going to the States, then across the border to Carlos the Jackal, to upset another cartel. It could all go horribly wrong and you get sliced up by drug dealers.’

  I had them suitably worried.

  After dark the Hercules were announced, having come up from the Canal Zone and not down from the States. I checked teams and their kit, and we lugged our crates after everyone had opened their personal crates and searched for bombs. I used the opportunity to change my shirt, others copying.

  ‘Smelly shirts back in the crate?’ Swifty complained.

  ‘No choice.’

  ‘It’s going to be rank.’

  ‘No laundry service here, just do it.’