by Geoff Wolak
‘Did you ever visit?’
‘Before my time. My project overlaps with the bank started twelve years back.’
‘And your background?’ I risked.
‘Analyst for the CIA, global threats, future direction, after five years in the infantry as an officer, technical trade.’
‘What you may not know, is that Bastion dealt in blood diamonds as a way to make money, Antwerp being a good place to offload diamonds.’
‘That … was mentioned as having been stopped years back.’
‘No, they’re still active around here, it’s funding their attempts to get me killed.’
‘I’ll look into that, because we told them no; publicity would have been too bad.’
‘Do you know if the long runway here had anything to do with the Cold War remote base ideas?’
‘I can check, see if it’s on the list. I read-up on the Soviet bunker you found, I love old stuff like that.’
‘Well this base I’m at, and the long runway, I have earmarked for Atlantic Oil.’
‘Figured as much. It a pleasant spot?’
‘It could be, with some work. Just the large open-cast mine to spoil your view.’
‘No good for a new Radisson then?’
‘If it faced north, great location,’ I quipped. ‘If you wanted to be helpful to me you could get a list of men that worked here at the mine.’
‘Old records would be with NordGas, under lock and key in some damp basement. At the moment their building is closed down. What’s your plan down there?’
‘To find and kill those interested in killing me, then to make this a safe and quiet spot for oil workers. Still some foot soldiers out there, like Rene Bastion and Van Den Block, although Van Den Block is likely to be killed soon.’
‘He at that airfield?’
I hesitated, careful of what I revealed about Tobo. ‘He was yesterday, but I’m waiting for him to move location.’
‘Atlantic will send men tomorrow. Will they get a warm welcome?’
‘They will, a big sloppy kiss.’ He laughed. ‘But we have no decent accommodation for them yet, so they should wait a week.’
‘Pool will be ready then…’
‘I have Engineers here, so you’ll be surprised what this place looks like afterwards, a lick of paint, some new curtains. And here’s an interesting fact for you, since you like old mysteries. This building has a nine inch concrete metal-reinforced walls and ceiling, nuke proof.’
‘It … does?’
‘Come take a look if you like.’
‘I’ll check some old records about the place. I’m curious now.’
Phone down, I called Dicky outside and away from the door. ‘The bones down there are from a British Paleontologist, Abrahams. When Intel rang the London museum to see who this guy was, his daughter picked up the phone.’
‘His fucking daughter! She took the call? Jesus.’
‘She may be heading down. In the morning, secure the area, bag up what’s there, or we’ll get some shit for it.’
‘Fucking hell…’
‘And no mention of that diamond, or that’s your bonus gone.’
‘I want me bonus,’ he assured me.
At 9pm Franks called as I sat having a brew with Swifty.
‘Are you still at the FOB?’ I asked, leaning out of dark window on the south side.
‘No, back on ship. Just saw the British news, ran the names with Langley. I think those men were working for your new friends Stateside.’
‘They called, and said no, and I doubt they want to lie to me, but the men did have contact Stateside.’
‘I’ll request the contact numbers from London, tonight.’
‘Do you … want to upset my new friends? Go head to head?’
‘No, but if those men in BP are someone we don’t know about, then we should know about them. And your friends are too good to leave a trail, so yeah, could be someone else.’
‘Someone that was closely linked to NordGas back in 1977.’
‘You think the bank was involved?’
‘My new friends say no, but we will offer the men a deal. See what they say.’
‘How is it over there?’
‘Safe enough now, and the building here was built to withstand a big bomb.’
‘It … was?’ he puzzled.
‘Yep. So it’s very safe. Come have a look, we have bacon and chicken.’
After a hearty meal of ham and rations, and a good brew chatting to the teams, I settled down on a comfy camp bed, wondering how Salome was coping, and had anyone killed her yet – anyone on our side.
As the grey light crept around the door I opened an eye. Easing up, I felt stiff, my legs painful to the touch, but I could at least walk around slowly well enough.
After my pee outside I got a brew on, the Engineers major an early riser himself. Walking outside, we stood chatting quietly in the grey dawn light, brews in hand.
I pointed, he squinted.
‘Looks like a ghost,’ he noted.
‘Mist. You only get it at this time in the mornings, then it burns off.’
‘Looks alive. Like some old Hammer House of Horror movie.’
‘Good old Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee,’ I noted. ‘They scared me as a kid, now they seem ridiculous.’
‘Do you get scared?’
‘No, I love it here. I get paid to see things like this place, no hotel bills.’
‘A camp bed and Army rations,’ he quipped. ‘I’d take the hotel. Those ladies from 14 Intel, could they not be told … to wear a bra?’
I smiled widely. ‘They work in irregular Intel, which means they would sneak behind the lines and smile nicely to get what they want.’
‘Oh, right, that kind of work.’
‘Yes, that kind of work, recruited for a lack of morals and a keen desire to be away from the kitchen sink and the nine-to-five.’
‘Different world to mine.’ He pointed. Out from the trees came a deer, quite large, sniffing the air and glancing around.
I told him, ‘The American Wolves are all poachers at heart, so that deer better leg it away sharpish or be eaten.’
‘How do they rate? Against our average soldier?’
‘Twenty times better. If I told them to walk from here back to the FOB with no rations or water they’d see that as a fun day out.’
‘Yeah, well I hate the damn jungle. Give me the Brecon Beacons any day.’
He headed off for a pee before we moved back inside.
When my phone trilled it was Mitch. ‘We got company,’ he began. ‘Trucks just got here.’
‘Any sign of Tobo?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Are you in a good position?’
‘Yeah, and we blocked the track with a tree that looks like it fell naturally, four teams spread out, solid cover. They ain’t seen the tree yet, they’re three hundred yards up from it.
‘If you get wounded I’ll get a helo in. Standby.’
I called Moran, but he was already awake. ‘Standby helo for casevac, two miles north of my position here, just up from the river is a road and track.’
‘There’s always a helo standing by, ours or a French one. Oh, Slider went off last night with Paras, he’s walking to you. Said he’d shoot a few people on the way.’
‘He better be good with a map because there’s swamp west of me.’
‘If he calls in I’ll ask about his webbed feet,’ Moran offered.
Mitch was back on forty minutes later. ‘We took them quietly with silencers, no sign of Tobo.’
‘No sign? What about the mortars?’
‘Three tubes, plus shells.’
‘Anywhere a Chinook can put down?’
‘Yeah, wide track.’
‘Set a perimeter, await a helo, I want those mortars back here. You wait to see if anyone comes to claim those trucks.’
I called Moran and gave him the coordinates, a Chinook requested – with some strong men aboard.
My next task was a patrol for the French and the Greenies. I sent the bulk of the Greenies due west, to the river and on a few miles, back for 9am tomorrow. I had the French sent down to “D” Squadron and to cross the river, without drowning, and to scout south a few miles.
Kit checked, ratios sorted, and the lines headed out in two separate directions, two large patrols.
At 9am I was stood outside chatting to 2 Squadron lads with Swifty when I picked up the faint drone, a twin prop. Peering around, I wondered if it was Admiral Jacobs, but he would call ahead.
I transmitted, ‘Incoming! Get inside, down from the roof, get the GPMGs ready to fire at an aircraft! Greenies, get down to a lower level!’
Swifty ambled to the door, peering up as he did so, a hand over his eyes, Max stood ready with his camera – a long lens ready.
I could see the two 2 Squadron lads on the tall building climbing down, GPMGs handed down awkwardly, the 2 Squadron lads here handing down weapons before they came down, Dicky and Mouri out the door and peering around.
Looking east, I could now see the twin prop, a high tail, not a Hawkeye. ‘Get inside!’ I shouted. I transmitted, ‘Tomo, you hear me?’
‘Just about.’
‘If that plane gets low, shoot at it, but don’t waste ammo. Alert the Seals.’
‘Just did, they’re face down already.’
‘Wilco to anyone with their ears on, get to cover.’ I called “D” Squadron as the drone grew.
‘Hello?’
‘Get to cover, spread out, plane coming in!’ Peering down the south end of the mine, I saw men running in all directions, their hut abandoned in haste.
At the door I looked up, the plane at 1,000ft, too high for a shot, even with an elephant gun. I moved inside, and to the HQ room as people fired questions at me, the Marines Press officers here with Max.
Swifty handed me a brew as I sat. I faced the Engineers major. ‘We’ll see if this roof is as strong as you said it was.’
He was horrified. ‘What? We’ll be bombed!’
‘Either that, or it’s a TV crew.’
Sasha put in, ‘Twenty dollars on a getting bombed.’
Rizzo faced the major. ‘You said the roof is solid, right?’
‘I never planned on putting it to the fucking test!’
Morten and his medics looked worried.
I calmly told them, ‘Hands over ears, mouths open, kneel.’ They did as asked, others copying.
The deafening blast had us ducking, dust falling, my ears ringing as men hit the floor in a hurry. I shook my head to clear my ears as the quick ripple of the blasts hit us, the roof holding.
‘Good aim,’ Rizzo noted, his words almost drowned out. ‘Tight group.’
‘Are you fucking mad!’ the Engineers major shouted at him.
It ended as soon as it started, smoke wafting as I took out my phone and called Admiral Jacobs. ‘Sir, we just got hit by a civilian twin-prop, shoot it down please!’
‘I’ll get the air commander, we have aircraft up.’
Outside, I stepped to the Greenies building, now shrouded in smoke. ‘You still alive in there?’ I shouted.
‘Yeah, just fucking deaf, sir,’ came a voice from beyond the smoke.
I clicked on the radio. ‘2 Squadron, back to your positions please. And no one tell Mister Haines fiancé.’
‘I heard that!’ came from above.
The drone of the Chinook registered, so I ran towards the mine edge and looked north. The twin-prop was moving off east, but was still a threat.
‘Wilco, Chinook, receiving?’
‘Chinook, Wilco, receiving.’
‘We were hit by a twin-prop aircraft, now flying east at one thousand. Get to 500ft behind it and shadow the damn thing as best you can, US Navy jets on the way. Report the position of the twin-prop.’
‘Any danger that the Americans could target us?’
‘I’ll contact them now. If you see a jet, try the radio.’ With a grin, I said, ‘Follow that plane!’
‘We can see it. We’ll follow it low! Very damn low!’
I called back Admiral Jacobs as the Chinook banked around. ‘Sir, we have a Chinook following the twin-prop east, don’t shoot at the Chinook.’
‘I’ll mention that now. What about that plane? Should we follow it on radar, see where it lands?’
‘Yes, sir, that would be a good idea, then hit it on the ground. Best bet is Ivory Coast.’
‘We have a ship offshore, its radar could track that plane. I’ll contact them now.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
I transmitted, ‘Wilco, Chinook, you still hear me.’
‘Chinook, Wilco, go ahead.’
‘Follow that plane till fuel forces you back, report where it lands, Americans are following as well.’
‘Chinook, Wilco, roger.’
I called SIS, London. ‘It’s Wilco, and we just had a twin-prop civvy aircraft bomb us, no casualties to report, plane tracking east and being followed by a Chinook low level as well as the US Navy. Update all interested parties.’
Call ended, it trilled straight away. ‘It’s “D” Squadron, you OK up there?’
‘Fine, roof is nine inches of reinforced concrete. Back to normal routines.’
‘Jesus, we thought you had all been killed, just us left.’
‘This building has nine inches of reinforced concrete, relax. Don’t go making any plans to steal our watches just yet.’
The Press officers stepped out and peered up and around. ‘That plane gone?’
‘Yes, and being pursued by your Navy. They’ll see where it lands.’
‘And who sent it?’
‘Same idiots, blood diamond wholesalers wanting us gone. It probably came from Ivory Coast.’
‘I had the cameras running, one on the window, got some great footage.’ He glanced up and pointed. We could see the con trail arcing around.
‘Your keen F18s,’ I told him.
My phone trilled ten minutes later, many people outside and peering up and around. ‘Wilco, it’s Admiral Jacobs, and that plane flew due east to fool us, then north, now northwest. Navy is having a hard time so we have a Hawkeye up, F18s loaded with bombs.’
‘Careful with the targeting, sir, might be civvies at the runway, and the boys flying that plane probably never told air traffic control what they were up to.’
‘They launch an attack, they lose a runway, but we’ll have a look at the map before final permission is given. That plane is ten minutes out from a small strip in northern Guinea.’
‘Then after you hit it we may launch a helo raid, but we’ll get eyes on first.’
Call ended, Moran called. ‘Tobo was just on the line, he’s at some strip in Guinea -’
‘Shit! US Navy will hit it inside ten minutes.’
‘I got a number to call him back on, he borrowed an old friend’s mobile when they met up at the strip.’
‘Tell him to slip out quietly, or to kill anyone he can when the bombs fall, then … to slip out and to get back to you.’
‘I’ll call him back now. Why the Americans after that place?’
‘Plane from there just dropped ten tonnes of bombs on my roof, but the roof held.’
‘Shit…’
‘Call him, then pray!’
I paced up and down, Dicky and Mouri wondering about Tobo as patrols started to come back in, all getting the gossip. I dispatched 14 Intel back to the middle of the mine, more practise for them. Some were not that keen to be outside, nervous glances skyward.
Our delivery guy turned up, ignorant of the dangers, more supplies bought, life returning to normal. A sudden build of noise and the drone of a Chinook hit me. It circled at speed, slowed, flared and landed, ramp down.
I sent men forwards, and mortar tubes appeared, followed by shells.
I transmitted, ‘Mister Haines, get the mortars set up on the mine side, but facing north please, sandbags around them.’
‘Chinook, Wilco?’
>
‘Go ahead,’ I transmitted at the helo as it sat making a loud noise, white dust blown outwards.
‘We followed that plane north to a strip, F18s on our frequency. They requested we eye-ball the strip, and we reported the civvies on the right hand side, north, planes and soldiers on the left. The F18s then bombed it as we circled, dirt runway hit, left side hit, but those 2,000lb bombs could have easily hit civvies – it was a small strip.’
‘Roger, understood. I’ll get eyes-on human intel soon. Update Captain Moran with the details of that strip and its coordinates. Thanks.’
With the Chinook loudly departing, the local wildlife wanting more peace and less loud bangs no doubt, I observed the three mortar tubes being set-up ready.
Moran called ten minutes later. ‘Tobo killed Van den Block and some others, stole the truck and left, but he reported that strip bombed, civvies hit.’
I closed my eyes and lifted my head, sighing. ‘How many civvies hit, which side of the strip?’
‘Civvies were in with soldiers on the south side, many killed he figured, but he had no clear view.’
‘And the other side?’
‘Windows blown out, ten tonnes of mud falling, people knocked off their feet and deafened.’
‘And killed on that side, where he was?’
‘He saw none killed, some hurt.’
‘The soldiers, they had families with them?’
‘Yeah.’
‘OK, leave it with me.’ I took in the mine, and 14 Intel’s earnest training, and finally called SIS.
‘It’s Wilco. Update for all interested parties. This morning, a twin-prop aircraft bombed our special forces base in Liberia, then flew off east, a trick, it landed north in Guinea at a strip run by rebel soldiers and drug gangs. An RAF Chinook helicopter followed the aircraft and got eyes-on intel on the strip before US navy jets hit the strip.
‘The Chinook reported civilians on the north side, rebels on the south side, but follow-on human intel placed soldiers with families in the mix on the south side, some killed in the bombing. Civilians on the north side, reported as a civilian area, were knocked off their feet and covered in mud, but not killed.
‘The runway was damaged by US Navy F18s dropping 2,000lb bombs, and should be out of use for some time. End of report.’
‘Were the Chinook pilots at fault?’
