by Geoff Wolak
‘I was expecting that, I got the intel. Admiral Jacobs missed that ship, it went to West Africa to fire a missile there, but the missile was a dud.’
‘And the real story here?’
‘Yet to unfold, sir, and I go to war tomorrow, some FARC rebels to upset.’
‘Well good luck, we’ll be watching it on CNN.’
Franks called me back at 3pm. ‘They stopped a ship off Puerto Rico, little found, but a handy manual on how to prep a cruise missile fell between two crates, the crew unable to explain it, and the captain's phone is linked in. They’re all in custody.’
‘Offer them the electric chair, they might talk.’
‘That’s the hope here.’
My phone trilled half an hour later, as I sat on the patio, Colonel Mathews. ‘I got every unit in the damn Army wanting in on the fighting. You have a use for extra men?’
‘No, sir, it will be tight jungle patrols.’
‘It’s a long border…’
‘They’ll come for me, sir, not to cross over the border for fun.’
‘Bait eh. So what’s the plan?’
I gave him the coordinates. ‘That airstrip is the drop off point and supply point, casevac. Have medics set-up there, Marines on the wire, some medics to go up-country when it’s secure. You have your helos on ship, but we also have local Hueys.’
‘There are two French warships with helos, and two of your Navy ships.’
‘I’ll try and make use of them, sir. Note these other coordinates and look at the map.’ I read them out. ‘It’s a flat hilltop with a small landing strip, good for helos and a plane like a Skyvan. Hawkeye could land and take off.
‘I’ve spoken to the Panama Government, sir, but ask for permission to use that airstrip and to land up-country and patrol out, seek and destroy.’
‘I’ve been asked to get a few more Press Officers in there, and allow civilian reporters in.’
‘That’s OK, send them after day one, but check health and fitness and clothing – they’ll be sleeping in a trench in the rain, snakes and slugs.’
That evening I took Tiny out for a meal in a posh restaurant in La Palma, a few Russians in and acknowledging me, plenty of guards outside.
‘I’ll probably move to the border in the morning, be gone a while.’
‘It’s not that far…’
‘It … will get nasty.’
‘Oh. Well, I’m not supposed to get involved or to care, so I’ll try not to.’
‘Me too. I’ll try.’
‘What do you expect to happen?’
‘The FARC have some ex-CIA types helping them, so they’ll be listening in to my comms, and they’ll get my plans.’
‘So change your plans.’
‘Well, girl, I had planned on changing my plans, yes.’
She shot me a look. ‘If they’re listening in, use that.’
‘I have to send accurate reports for casevac and support, so … it won’t be easy. Oh, your lot are coming out.’
‘Butch Maggie and the bad boys,’ she quipped. ‘Some are OK.’
‘We’ll soon see, I’ll put them on the front line.’
In the morning I woke at 6am, late for me, and sat on the balcony for a while. Thinking. Little new evidence had come to light, few new arrests, no major players grabbed – nor even identified.
A knock at the door and I was surprised, Tiny not waking. Pistol in hand, I opened the door to find a guard, a note handed to me. I thanked him a whisper and read the note, soon calling back the old No.7 from the balcony.
‘No.7?’
‘Hey Boss, we got company.’
‘You’re at the dirt strip?
‘We had a look at it last night, before we lost the light, and it’s in good enough condition for a small plane, no rocks. Then we patrolled around the hill, no movement, but we camped out in thick trees say … four hundred metres northwest. Now we have company.’
‘FARC?’
‘Looks like it.’
‘How many?’
‘From here, a hundred, maybe more.’
‘Where are they, exactly?’
‘The valley, due south of the end of the dirt strip, below it.’
‘What are they doing?’
‘Digging in, hiding.’
‘Standby, I’ll see if I can spoil their breakfast.’
I called back Admiral Mulloy, at least the ship’s usual sat phone number, getting a commander. ‘It’s Major Wilco, and I need an airstrike as soon as you’re ready.’
‘Could have four aircraft ready in … fifteen minutes, others will take longer.’
‘Got a map of the border region?’
‘Just been studying it.’
‘Got the coordinates I relayed?’
‘Already in the computer.’
‘You have a computer?’
‘Missions go on the computer, all logged.’
‘Central highlands, smack on the border, the dirt strip.’
‘LZ2, blue forces.’
‘South from the end of the runway 200yards is a valley running east-west, now crawling with FARC rebels digging in and waiting someone to go visit the LZ. I need it bombed, from east to west. You have napalm?’
‘Fuel air explosive, yes, but they need prep time.’
‘Up to you how you do this, but the rebels are spread out.’
‘A 2,000lb bomb will kill anyone inside a hundred yards, and anyone inside two hundred yards will need new ears and some help walking around.’
‘Make sure they don’t hit the dirt strip, we’ll use it later.’
‘Understood, I’ll plan a strike pattern now.’
‘Launch as soon as you’re ready, I have eyes on the target.’
‘They best move away.’
‘I’ll advise them now. And watch for heat seeking missiles.’
‘The aircraft can flare on the bombing run.’
I called back No.7. ‘How far are you from the valley and the FARC?’
‘From here, say 300yards.’
‘Get some cover, Americans will bomb that valley soon.’
‘Someday you explain how you get the Americans to work for you, eh.’
‘Someday, yes. Get to cover, don’t be seen.’
I slipped out and got a coffee and some bread downstairs, soon back on the balcony.
No.7 called back half an hour later. ‘Petrov?’
I heard the dull blasts down the phone. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Remind me never to upset the fucking Americans!’
‘You OK?’
‘Even from here we feel it, and these crazy bastards drop twenty bombs, no fucking trees left standing! And they drop flares, some small fires started.’
‘Is the bush green and wet, or brown?’
‘A mix, mostly wet.’
I heard further blasts.
No.7 asked, ‘What are these fuckers trying to do, dig a hole though the planet to Australia? And now we see fucking napalm being dropped.’
‘Are the FARC dead?’ I asked.
‘No one could survive that, and now the nice green valley is all brown mud and white smoke.’
‘Did they miss any FARC?’
‘They hit a wide area.’ I heard the blasts. ‘Shit. No one left alive in that valley. They’re chopped up and burnt.’
‘After the bombing ends, get in close and above, have a look. Call me when it ends.’
He called back ten minutes later. ‘No planes now, but some odd plane flew over and had a look.’
‘Aerial photography. OK, go get a closer look, but don’t go into the valley.’ I called the George Washington. ‘This is Major Wilco, I have a bomb damage assessment for you.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Targets well covered, no civilians nearby, no collateral damage, my men moving in for a close look, all enemy combatants seem to have been killed. So a good first strike. Oh, send a helo straight away for Major Harris, at the holiday hotel. He’ll update you on local intel matters. Wilco o
ut.’
I called Harris, woke him and alerted him to the movement. He was packed anyhow, having not unpacked much. He reported that Echo would be getting kitted ready, but after breakfast.
'Did you get a massage?' I teased.
'No.'
When Tiny woke I handed her a tea. She commended, ‘This is the life, waited on, tea in bed.’
‘I’ll ship out in a few hours. Where’s Suzy?’
‘She has a thing going with a cute guy in security, local man, and they’re checking on strangers around the city with a small team. Suzy does the dumb tourist bit, they never suspect her.’
‘Tell her I said she keeps doing that, and you assist. I need to know if Americans or Canadians are sneaking about.’
‘You be careful out there.’
‘Let’s promise each other that we won’t say that, or worry.’
‘OK, I’ll try. But you be careful out there.’
I sighed, and kissed her on the forehead.
At 9am, I called the Panama minister. ‘Can you move my men by Huey today?’
‘The helicopters are ready, yes.’
‘You know the hotel where the soldiers are staying?’
‘No?’
‘Guess they kept it secret then. Same hotel that the Hueys dropped me off at.’
‘Ah, that place. It was supposed to be unfinished.’
‘Some work left, yes. Have them pick up my men, then land them at the airstrip east of La Palma, east of Tomsk’s old villa. They make a few runs. Americans will move themselves. And have fuel trucks sent to the strip, we will pay.’
I called Moran and he had everyone in uniform, even Tomo, and Rizzo was awake and with it. They would be ready soon, waiting on the grass for Hueys.
I told him, ‘Echo first, then British Wolves, SAS. Check with the captain responsible for the American Wolves, for the movement of the Wolves. I’ll chat to him soon.’
At 10am I called Colonel DeHavilland. ‘Sir, the action has started, so I’ll arrange trucks, and you have a long drive south. I suggest you leave after midnight though, trucks spaced a hundred yards apart, armed men ready. You never know.’
‘There are trucks in the Canal Zone, I’ll organise something; the men still here can earn their damn keep. Where we going?’
I gave him the grid reference. ‘It’s an airstrip. From there you get ferried by helo to the border, too dangerous to drive.’
‘The Marines helo carrier is still offshore,’ he pointed out.
‘Best ask them to reposition, sir, the action will be south at the border, but they should keep their distance from the Colombian coast.’
‘You expecting trouble?’
‘Is my name Wilco?’
He laughed. ‘I’ll start to make some plans. I spoke to my CO and he’s happy for us to be involved, our unit is getting the credit here.’
‘Did you catch any fish, sir?’
‘Yes, caught a monster, got the photographs as well. They barbecued it for us. This hotel is in a great spot.’
‘You could always visit it someday, in a peaceful Panama.’
‘Someday yes, still a bit lively here.’
Thinking about journalists, I called Max.
‘Hey Wilco, I hear you have a job on?’
‘You still at the hotel?’
‘Yeah, been interviewing lots of people, enough for a book.’
‘This next bit is jungle, you’ll be sleeping on the floor.’
‘Great,’ he complained. ‘OK, I’ll get some greens. My paper is flying in my heavy kit with a man, and my combats.’
‘Have him in greens as well, and unless he’s fit keep him out the way.’
‘He was a Royal Marine, but he’s forty-two now.’
‘Put him back in uniform. And check his ID carefully -’
‘I’ve known him for years.’
‘Check anyway, the bad boys have a shit load of money and want some inside access. Would this guy talk for a million quid?’
‘For a million quid I’d talk. Can you arrange a meet with the bad guys?’
‘Careful, Max, I’d hate to have to shoot you.’
I called David Finch. ‘I gave the Americans my planned movements yesterday, and at dawn the FARC were moving into the exact spot ready to ambush us.’
‘That confirms, it, Outside State is linked in.’
‘But I had the Yanks bomb the fuck out of the FARC, none left alive.’
‘So Zulu will be vexed, and wondering how he can stop his own army from hurting his interests. You could see interference from above.’
‘That might help label who Zulu has in his pocket.’
I called Miller’s contact number.
He called back. ‘Wilco, you after me?’
‘Seen any odd movements or signals overnight?’
‘No, why?’
‘Ten hours after I passed your military my planned LZ, the FARC moved in to that LZ and set ambushes, my men observing them. Then, just to be spiteful, I had your Navy kill all the FARC, they even used napalm. So, Mister Miller, does the left hand know what the right hand is doing?’
‘I now have a concern.’ After a pause came. ‘Could you set other traps and give me some warning so that I can capture comms traffic?’
‘For you, anything. And if you identify the little shits?’
‘That’s for my boss to decide, but we don’t want to be fighting against each other here.’
‘I’ll set a trap and let you know. And Mister Miller, listen carefully for any generals or senators voicing opposition to your military supporting me here.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘It means that some may have a different agenda to yours, and the world is only big enough for one Deep State. Go listen to the gossip.’
Kitted out ready, I asked for a ride and escort to the airstrip, Tiny not here but off doing her day job. Tomsk wished me well, but seemed worried for me. I was soon in a jeep and heading east, a familiar road, chatting to the driver about condos here. He had bought one and had rented it out.
After forty minutes we passed Tomsk’s damaged villa, and we pressed on east to the airfield, through a police roadblock, but they were police paid by Tomsk. I found the airfield well-guarded, and that supplies had been stacked up ready.
I called No.7. ‘What can you see?’
‘No one alive, but we thought we saw someone walking off south.’
‘Leave the area now, Americans will land soon. Double-time north.’
‘OK, we go now.’
Stood chatting to my guards in the sunshine for twenty minutes, we finally heard Hueys, and nine came in and landed, Echo seen sat on the sides, British Wolves, and Running Bear’s team.
When it looked like they might get off I held up a flat palm, then a single digit, and pointed at the supplies. Men started to run forwards bent-double, rifles in hand, Moran with them.
I shouted to Moran, ‘Shovels and pickaxes, one per man if we have enough.’
Monster grabbed four pickaxes and lugged them back, Moran grabbing six shovels. I waved in Running Bear. He grabbed shovels and took them back as the Hueys rumbled.
When Moran came back for more I shouted over the roar, ‘You have rations?’
He smiled widely. ‘I have corned beef, mince meet, potatoes and pears. I even have custard!’
‘Where’d you steal that lot?’
‘The hotel let us have it.’
I finally grabbed two large Gerry cans of water and lugged them to a Huey, getting inside. I placed on the spare headsets. ‘Pilot, you know the dirt strip at the border, up on a hill?’
‘Yes, I know it.’
‘We fly there, you drop us off quick, then come back here and get more supplies to drop to us. Don’t hang around, and watch for heat-seeking missiles.’
‘They have missiles?’
‘We don’t know, just a precaution – I don’t want to jump out again.’
Loudly vibrating, we lifted off and tur
ned, my pilot taking the lead, and I sat on the side next to Slider and Nicholson, feet on the rails, weapons aimed down.
Our air convoy was soon speeding southwest, soon over the trees, my hair thrown about.
Slider nudged me and shouted, ‘Don’t you dare throw me out!’
I smiled. ‘You see a missile, you jump!’
He looked worried.
Nicholson shouted, ‘This is the way to get to work! Why can’t we have Hueys?’
‘We can have Hueys, it’s just the crashing and burning and the dying problem.’
‘Stop talking about crashing!’ Slider complained. ‘I got the story from Sasha, and that gives me nightmares!’
Fifteen minutes later we approached the target, LZ2-Blue according to the Navy, and we skimmed over other small round hills. Flaring down the length of the dirt strip, we bumped down, pickaxes and shovels thrown out and abandoned as we ran to the grass and knelt, all round defence as our ride loudly lifted off, the two Gerry cans sat there. I peered around.
The top of the hill was flat, and devoid of trees, just a few small bushes dotted around, so there was nowhere for an ambush to be set. The strip was brown mud surrounded by long grass blowing in the breeze, and the runway looked to be in good condition, just a few puddles.
With the last of the Hueys gone, the drone abating, I stood tall and shouted for all radios to be turned off as I glanced out at the panoramic view afforded to us. We were on the highest hill.
‘Listen up, the enemy can listen in to our radios, and home in, so keep them off for now. Wolves, go north to the edge, have a good look, back here in fifteen minutes.’
The large team ran off, led by Swifty.
‘Rizzo, west side, have a look then back.’
He led his team off, my four spies following.
‘Slider, this side. Running Bear, south end – see where your Navy bombed it. Salome, here with me.’
That left Doc Willy and Max, Max lugging his heavy kit with the new guy, that man in greens but with a blue body best that said ‘Press’.
‘Sit, relax,’ I told them. ‘Max, take some snaps whilst this place still looks clean.’
I pointed at the new man; forty and with a bushy moustache. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Trevor. Was a sergeant in 42 Commando.’
‘What’s with the body armour?’
