by Geoff Wolak
‘Don’t lose the one you’re holding!’
‘I’ll have it sold, pay for some kit.’
‘Pay for a lot of kit.’
‘Money could go to Spectre.’
‘Just as well, yes. So they were selling blood diamonds. Still, back then they weren’t called blood diamonds, that happened during the civil war there. And where you are is a long way from the eyes of Monrovia, very few roads, all swamp. There are legal diamond mines in Africa of course.’
‘And the governments in each country take a cut, but not if you have a long runway and a product that could be swallowed.’
‘Begs the question as to how they were funding the men and arms in the coup,’ David noted.
‘I think Bastion and others are involved with blood diamonds, still making money illegally, cash, that’s how they’re funding men to attack me still – a local pot of cash.’
‘I’ll start tracking back their diamond operations, might get lucky.’
‘I’ll look this end, see if I can find King Solomon’s fabled mines.’
‘I don’t think the Jewish tribes made it to West Africa,’ he quipped.
‘No, but we know now why the bad boys want me gone from this place. More than just oil under my feet.’
With the diamond tucked away, and now a worry, Moran called. ‘Tobo called me. He just helped Van Den Block pack mortars and shells to trucks, men from Guinea taking them, and they drove off north. That airfield is emptying out.’
I sighed loudly. ‘Ask Tobo to kill Van Den Block and return to us.’
‘He’s heading north as well, with Van Den Block. Not sure when he’ll get the chance to call in.’
‘OK, let me know when he does.’
Inside, I checked the map. The small town to the east of us had just the one road – an offshoot of our road, but mortars could be offloaded and fired at us. To the north I saw a track the other side of the river, a mile or two from a road that headed northwest to Guinea.
They could offload the mortars down that track, cross the river with them, and position the mortars. But if they were 81mm mortars then they could hit us at maximum range, they’d just need good aim.
I stepped out, looked up a number and called Mitch. ‘Where are you?’
‘Tabbing north, going down a ridge, can see the river.’
‘Get to the river, cross over, find the track that leads up to the road, go up the track to the road, set an ambush. They have trucks with mortars on heading our way, be with you in a few hours.’
‘Mortars, eh? That’s naughty.’
‘Did you meet Sergeant Tobo at the FOB?’
‘Yeah, chatted to him a few times, good man.’
‘If you see him, don’t kill him and his men, they’re undercover.’
‘Gunna make it hard…’
‘Warn everyone, and you call it out. Shoot the trucks and jeeps, just stop them using those mortars on us. Step up the pace.’
‘OK, moving.’
Phone down, I transmitted, ‘All teams, this is Wilco. Enemy have mortar tubes on the way, be in range tomorrow. Get more sandbags sorted.’
The big sergeant came down. ‘Can’t make a hole in the roof, sir, it’s solid, and thick, looks like it’s reinforced, metal in there.’
‘How … thick?’ I puzzled.
‘Nine inches, sir. Got a big faded “H” up there, so maybe a helipad.’
He wandered off. I went and grabbed the Engineers major and had him inspect the roof.
When he came down he reported, ‘It’s reinforced, yes, for a helicopter landing pad. Guess they used that before the runway was here.’
‘What would a mortar do to that roof?’
‘Nothing at all, you’d need an atom bomb.’
‘Thanks.’ I stood staring down with a deep frown, and called David Finch. ‘This building I’m in, built by NordGas in 1977 or so. It has a helipad on the roof, nine inches of bomb-proof ceiling.’
‘Maybe they used helicopters there first. S61 or something heavy like a CH46.’
‘Yes, maybe, but there’s flat land here for a helo to set down on. And I just got word that mortars are on their way here, so whoever is getting ready to use those mortars doesn’t know this building well.’
‘Might not have seen the design specs, no.’
I stepped closer to the building and had a good look, walking around it. Closing in, I could see holes in the concrete by the window frames. I dragged out the Engineers major again and asked about them.
‘For storm shutters it seems.’
‘Do me a favour, test the walls, and tell me how well they’d hold up to an RPG.’
‘RPG won’t penetrate. Look.’ He ran a finger over a lump. ‘Metal inside the concrete, eight inches of concrete. This building will still be here a thousand years from now.’
‘So … with metal plates on the windows it would be tough?’
‘Be like Fort Knox. But if I was mining around here I’d want something solid, not a friendly spot this place. When was it built?’
‘A few years before the civil war here, twenty years back,’ I explained.
‘So they anticipated some trouble.’
‘Can you see if you can find anything underground or hidden, please.’
‘I’ll have a look, yes. Why you so puzzled?’
‘I know the people who built it, a sneaky bunch of shits.’
‘So they built a building to protect their workers in a dangerous spot, and spent some money. Good for them, they wanted their staff safe.’
I nodded, still frowning at the building. ‘Have a look around, please.’
He headed off, and I sighed. Well at least I’d sleep safer. Facing the mine, I stared down at where the bodies had been found. Maybe there were more bodies, and more clues. NordGas had spent a shit load of money here, and getting the concrete in here by helo must have been expensive as hell.
A Greenie sergeant wandered past, and stopped for a chat. He was missing the pool at Camel Toe Base, making me smile. As he left me I stared at the runway, the very long runway.
‘I wonder…’
I called David Finch. ‘Listen, this place has a very long runway, but so does Camel Toe Base. Camel Toe was built by the Americans, supposedly an alternate landing site for the Space Shuttle, but we know the Yanks built long runways in remote spots during the Cold War.
‘Deep State are part of the bank, and this place has a long runway and a building that’s bomb proof…’
‘Yes, could have been seen as an alternate base following a global nuclear war. We had plans back then, what to do after a nuclear war, alternate bases in equatorial climates; best climate in a nuclear winter. You could be stood at one. What’s the problem?’
‘No problem, I just don’t like puzzles. I want to understand their thinking back then, and how they evolved. We got the sleeper agents, we know about the diamonds, what else could we learn about the bank and the shady sub-contractors.’
‘Yes, would help to see how they evolved.’
‘I have the insurance of the equipment that was here linked to Lord Michaels.’
‘The late Lord Michaels,’ he pointed out.
‘I’ll unravel the puzzle slowly. If we find names of men who worked here, then those men will now be senior.’
‘Well, yes, after twenty years they’d be well placed, as our spies were. Any paperwork lying around perhaps – a handy list of names?’
‘Nothing, place was picked clean. But they left the bodies, and that was sloppy of them, so maybe they left something else.’
‘I got a note from GCHQ, they have a large team looking at your area, men ready to place devices.’
‘Might get lucky then. Suggest to them the Guinea border area, likely staging posts, a petrol station maybe. Oh, this runway, it looks like it could be used for a Tristar, or oil workers from Europe.’
‘Ah, and I wonder if those words were on anyone’s lips twenty years ago. If you fly workers in, you don’t have
to use dangerous roads!’
‘I’d bet a big blood diamond on that being the case, if only I could remember where I put it.’
‘What!’
Laughing, I cut the call. After standing there staring down at the mine, I called out again the Engineers major. ‘You any good with mining operations?’
He looked out across the mine. ‘My degree was in mining, and I have a brother in mining. He’s been down here to Africa.’
‘What’s this white stuff?’
‘Silicated limestone.’
‘Come again?’
‘Limestone, but with silica mixed it, rare, but common around here.’ He pointed. ‘That grey mound looks like iron ore, so you’re most of the way to making cement, white cement. Just need some sand for the concrete, and a factory to cook the cement. That road was made from the stuff.’
I stared at him.
‘What?’ he puzzled.
‘They came all this way … to a dangerous spot, to make fucking cement?’
‘Useful stuff, cement, you build things with it, like roads. Your base, GL4, has a concrete runway like most runways, and a concrete perimeter track. Your runway will still there in a thousand years, tarmac roads will be gone.
‘First step was to find a local source, then build the road come runway thing, then extend the road south. Concrete roads are a good idea in Africa, because tarmac roads don’t last long.’
I stared at the white powder. ‘And the profitability of a mine for cement?’
‘No money it in, just that it saves paying for roads and airfields. Were they planning on building bridges or dams with it?’
‘I’ve … no idea what their plans were, but they were trying to get at the oil.’
‘Moving oil by truck does happen, but it’s very costly. Best bet would have been a pipeline, and a pipeline covered in concrete would make it secure from rebels blowing it up I guess. That runway would have cost a fortune had it been someplace else, built normally. As it is, it’s crude but effective, and will still be there a thousand years from now.’
‘What do you know about diamond mines around Africa?’ I pressed.
‘You need a river basin, because you find the diamonds further down than the topsoil, just like panning for gold. They do it here on an industrial level, but it doesn’t make much money.’
‘What do you need … to do it on a big scale?
‘Rock crushers, then sieves of a certain size, shakers, all very similar to gold production, then you shine a UV light and the diamond sparkles. Problem is, most are partly encased in stone. They look like marbles, rounded. Blacks here do that by hand, panning in the rivers.’
I nodded. ‘We shut down most of those open-cast mines, they pay for drugs and guns. Thanks.’ I called Mike Papa. ‘It’s Petrov.’
‘And who will you be tomorrow?’ he quipped.
I laughed. ‘I sometimes come to sign a cheque and forget which name to use. Anyway, how goes the negotiations?’
‘He is stalling, despite his loses. He sells to a white man, and fears him.’
‘Rene Bastion?’
‘That name sounds familiar. You mentioned that name before?’
‘He wants to separate you from your head.’
‘Ah, in which case I should find him.’
‘You’ll find him in Ivory Coast some of the time. I have people looking for him, but he knows I’m looking for him. I blew up his offices and killed his brother.’
‘You are indeed a tactful negotiator,’ he quipped.
‘Listen, I need you to kill the men running that diamond mine and to put someone there we can work with.’
‘I have someone in Guinea, yes. I will set a meeting, and ambush our friend.’
‘Try and take him alive, and find out where Rene Bastion is. Oh, what do you know about large blood diamonds?’
‘Large ones are rare, they are like small peanuts normally, found in the rivers, but the two largest came from the northwest of my country, close to that place I sent the workers. They were found in stone carvings, a ceremonial use dating back thousands of years.’
‘Interesting, very … interesting. I’ll visit you soon. Oh, have some deliveries made to that mine. Beds, mattresses, blankets, toilets, sinks, pipes, cookers, paint. And some barbed wire and fencing if you have it, spend a lot of money, I have a diamond you can sell for me, size of my thumb.’
‘Size of your thumb! My god, you found one. Was it in a stone carving?’
‘No, just lying around.’
‘Worth a great deal, my friend.’
‘There may be more to be had. Talk soon. Papa Victor out.’
I called Admiral Jacobs, his sat phone being handled by someone else.
‘Hey, Wilco, we got some great coverage of the operation there,’ he enthused.
‘Already, sir?’
‘Yeah, been three days running. They got the base in Sierra Leone, men on patrol, then this new place in Liberia and the fighting there. White House is happy, Pentagon is happy.’
‘Then you can do me a fast favour, sir. I have Charlie in the tree line, dense forest and swap. I need a satellite photo, then those infra-red aerial photos.’
‘Shit, Navy boys got nothing to do anyhow, I’ll have them fly over.’
‘Tell them we have a long runway here, cleaned of objects, they can land; it’s 2,000m long and smooth concrete.’
‘Where the hell did that spring up from?’
‘It was made twenty years ago, by a mining company. I’m trying to get it certified as a runway. Your Seahawks have already set down on it.’
‘I’ll have a Hawkeye land and take a look. I’ll pop in.’
‘You nearby?’
‘My tub is up the Red Sea, I’m off the coast. Is it safe?’
‘More or less, maybe a stray round fired. Sir, I asked for an American expert on runways, got a British one here.’
‘I’ll ask the Pentagon,’ he offered. ‘I’ll get those photographs and drop them in.’
‘We have bacon, sir, and fresh supplies. No beer!’
Call ended, I stood staring down at the mine. ‘What were those fucks up to?’ I thought out loud. ‘A non-profitable cement mine, a huge blood diamond?’
I went and found Dicky and led him outside. ‘Where’d you find that diamond?’
‘Close to the buildings down there, inside of an old sock.’
‘Any body attached to that sock?’
‘No, just sticking out. Looked odd, blue sock there in the white stuff.’
‘Go back down with some men, not 14 Intel, and dig, there are spades and pickaxes. Report to me only. Go now.’
Two hours later the F18s screeched overhead and arced around, making several passes, people peering up at them.
As the sun set Dicky was back, and he handed me a faded pair of old pants, a name inside. ‘Abrahams.’
‘British schoolboys put names in pants, and new young soldiers,’ I thought out loud. ‘These are adult size but were originally white.’ I faced him. ‘Is there a body?’
‘Bones. Old pair of glasses, some teeth.’
‘Good work, no mention of it.’
He led his group of Wolves past me and inside. I called Tinker. ‘Find me an archaeologist or – what do you call someone who studies ancient tribes and bones?’
‘Paleontologist maybe.’
‘Find one that was adult in 1977, went missing down here, name of Abrahams. Look at British men first.’
‘You found another body?’
‘Yes, just need to know what he was up to. But I already have a clue. Zero in on Liberia and Sierra Leone.’
‘I’ll get research on it, up at GCHQ.’
He was back half an hour later. ‘You’ll never believe this. They rang the London Natural History Museum, got through a few people, then … wait for it, Abrahams daughter comes on the line.’
‘His fucking daughter!’
‘She works there, took after her father. He went missing in Ivory Coa
st in 1977 as you said.’
‘Was he looking at ancient tribes around here?’
‘Yes, that was his speciality, Indiana Jones from Kent. His daughter is threatening to go to the police and waiting a call back.’
‘Talk to David Finch, have her sent down here with a team of Indiana Joneses, I need their help with something.’
‘Didn’t you used to be a soldier?’ he puzzled. ‘Now a hat and a whip?’
‘Get on with it, please.’
‘Oh, one more thing to spoil your day, her uncle is Lord Abrahams, Chairman at Rolls Royce.’
I sighed, loudly. ‘Tell her we found some bones we think is him and to come collect them. Send a note to David Finch. They can get a helo from Freetown.’
‘You won’t have seen the BBC news,’ he noted.
‘No?’
‘Arrests made at BP, espionage charges.’
‘Fucking marvellous,’ I complained, and cut the call.
It trilled a minute later, no number displayed. ‘Here we go,’ I sighed out. ‘Hello?’
‘It’s Miller.’
‘How’s life, Mister Miller?’
‘Odd, today it’s odd.’
‘What’s odd about today,’ I nudged.
‘Your government arrests at BP.’
‘Your people?’
‘No, I checked.’
‘The bank?’
‘No, I checked that as well, and if they had put people in place in 1977 I would be impressed to hell with them, but they always avoided oil till a few years back. They had no financial interest in oil back then.’
‘What about insider dealings, shares?’
‘Would be plausible, but the men are unknown to us.’
‘I doubt they’re Russian spies,’ I quipped.
‘Fuck no, these men are too good for that,’ he agreed.
‘So we have a mystery. Perhaps, when they’re offered a twenty year sentence, they’ll make a deal.’
‘Most do.’
‘Our Intel boys did find calls Stateside.’
‘Yeah, then we’ll request some cooperation, because I want to know who these boys are.’
‘What do you know about where I’m stood?’
‘The mine in Liberia? NordGas opened it, shut after two years because of the civil war, dozens of workers killed or kidnapped.’
