Wilco- Lone Wolf 20

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘Hold on. OK.’

  I read out the coordinates. ‘It’s a FARC HQ or training area, but I need eyes-on, not the place demolished. If we’re lucky we’ll see a white man, or a senior figure, and grab him. When close, radios off, use sat phones.’

  ‘We’ll move up the hill now.’

  I called Swifty. ‘Get up the hill behind you without being seen, get ready for helo insert up-country, I’ll have supplies on the helos. You’ll be dropped in an isolated spot, then I want you to make some noise, a distraction tonight, and when they come out to play I’ll get the helos in to fetch you.’

  I had the Colonel call the airfield and to have the Hueys prepped ready to go in half an hour. ‘One touches down here for supplies first, then they pick up my men.’ I showed him the map.

  Stepping to Morgen, I told him, ‘This mission is not written down or reported to ship or … anywhere.’

  He exchanged a look with the Colonel. ‘Off the books then.’

  At the stores area I grabbed a big holdall and filled it with tins and some ration packs. Water was not an issue, plenty of mountain streams here with fresh water. I added some ammo and a few flysheets I noticed, the elasticated ones.

  The Hueys loudly announced their arrival half an hour later, one setting down, the heavy bag loaded. I grabbed the spare headsets. ‘You hear me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Got a map?’

  The co-pilot lifted it up.

  I placed a finger on the pick-up point. ‘You pick up my team here, about thirty men. You then fly to here, but you don’t fly in a straight line, and you avoid all villages. Go around in a circle, drop them, and then on the way back you land at each hill, as if putting men down.’

  ‘To fool them,’ they noted.

  ‘Yes. And good luck.’

  ‘This place is well across the border,’ the pilot noted.

  ‘The Colombian Government don’t give a fuck, we do their jobs for them against the FARC.’

  ‘As before.’

  ‘Come back as it gets dark, another team to move, fifty men.’

  I clambered down and ran, the Huey loudly lifting off and heading south, his buddies following. I observed them, no RPGs fired up, and the drone soon abated, Max filming with the Press officers from our high vantage point.

  ‘Where they off?’ he asked.

  ‘To get eyes-on a FARC command post. Don’t send that yet.’

  ‘I’m not stupid.’

  I faced him squarely. ‘Mister, are you currently stood in the mud, under fire, or in a five star hotel?’

  He glanced around as Trevor grinned at him. ‘OK, so I’m stupid.’

  Almost half an hour later Moran called. ‘We’re down, hilltop surrounded by jungle, moving off now.’

  ‘Zig-zag, they will be looking for you. Hide your tracks.’

  ‘There’s a road we can use, a track, so no prints left behind.’

  I called Tomsk and asked him for RPG, grenades, explosives with timers. And a new toilet bowl.

  At 4pm a Skyvan touched down, men asking about pizza. I lugged out the toilet and placed it down in front of the lady doctor. ‘For you, special order.’

  She put her hands on her hips and squinted at me, but held her tongue.

  Supplies offloaded, I stacked them up near the command post, warning people about the explosives. Finally I carried off a large stack of cardboard boxes, the Skyvan departing north. I opened the top box and peered inside.

  I transmitted, ‘All teams, come in and get some cake.’ I handed a box to Billy, Salome rudely grabbing some, the Colonel soon tasting the local cake.

  Running Bear grabbed a box and took it back, Robby, then Taggard, the Wolves Captain and finally the medics. There was one box left, so Sasha grabbed it.

  ‘It’s not all bad here,’ the Colonel noted. ‘We have cake.’

  ‘Got the sunshine as well, sir, what more do we want, eh.’

  I sat with Billy and Salome, cake eaten like starving children, after which we all needed a brew.

  As the sun dipped low the Hueys were back, and I had confirmed with Swifty where he was. From my command post I could almost see them.

  With the same Huey landing, I had a few men help me load the supplies, but carefully. Headset on, I told the pilot, ‘These boxes have explosives and RPGs.’

  They both glanced nervously back at the supplies.

  ‘See that hill over there, my men are on it, two clicks south from this end. But there are maybe forty-five of them. Pick them up then go southwest twenty miles, pick an isolated place, any place, drop the teams on a hill. Simple.’

  Headsets off, I jumped down, the Huey roaring away, and his buddies followed him to the hill, and from where we were stood we could just see them land and take off.

  ‘What’s the helo mission?’ the Colonel asked.

  ‘One team will get eyes on a FARC HQ, sir, and one will cause a distraction, some loud noises. If the FARC are having a mothers' meeting your SEALs will attack, my men providing cover for them.’

  Moran called in an hour later, as we lost the light. ‘We just shot an eight-man patrol.’

  ‘Hide the bodies well.’

  ‘The lads are, a nasty deep valley here.’

  ‘Wait. Why would there be men out on patrol that far away?’ I wondered.

  ‘When I say patrol, they all had rifles slung and their thumbs up their arses, singing.’

  ‘Ah, OK. New troop playing nicely?’

  ‘They know what they’re doing, all have done at least five years, and they’ve been on many of our jobs.’

  He was back on an hour later, the light now gone. ‘Saw a helicopter land up ahead, close to our target I think, civilian Jetranger maybe.’

  ‘It beats driving through dangerous areas.’

  ‘We’re moving around in a big circle, coming at them from the south.’

  ‘You are indeed a wise and prudent leader.’

  ‘What’s happening back there?’

  ‘We had supplies delivered, cake.’

  ‘Cake. Lucky buggers. And the FARC?’

  ‘Might be some sneaking about below, but they’re being right unsociable and not visiting. When you get close to that camp have the snipers take a good look if there’s some light available, otherwise send in the smallest men, dead slow, and get a good look.

  ‘If you see a white guy, call me straight away, or someone that looks important. SEALs will land if you have prisoners, so grab a few. But the white guy, don’t let the SEALs take him, he knows too much.’

  ‘We make him talk?’

  ‘You do, because what he knows will save lives here. Have Rizzo burn the man’s feet, gag on first. I mean Rizzo with a gag on.’

  He laughed. ‘He’s OK, Rizzo, when he’s asleep.’

  My phone trilled ten minutes later, Tiny. ‘It’s me, can you talk?’

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘We caught two men, my brilliant and unrecognised talent of course, and we tracked back to a house, and they just found ten tonnes of Semtex.’

  ‘Did you get their phones?’

  ‘Of course, and I just called it in.’

  ‘Make them talk, and quickly.’

  ‘That’s my next task. I have the lighter fluid ready.’

  Phone down, the Colonel’s dark outline asked, ‘All OK?’

  ‘They found a large supply of Semtex in Panama City.’

  ‘To be used for what?’

  ‘Civilians casualties, sir, or to hit the hotels owned by Tomsk.’

  ‘No good against us here?’

  ‘Not unless they were flown in and dropped, sir. No more pizza, can’t trust the delivery men.’

  ‘Well, let’s not get overly-cautious here, Major, pizza is important.’

  Swifty called ten minutes later. ‘What we doing?’

  ‘Find some people, or FARC, and make some noise, set fire to something. Make them think there’s a battle in progress.’

  Swifty was back on fifteen minu
tes later. ‘Rocko wants to know if it’s OK to down a bridge and trash a petrol station.’

  ‘Yes, but don’t be seen, and don’t hurt any civvies.’

  My phone trilled, a call from ship. ‘Major Wilco, Commander Dawson. We have old satellite photos of the indicated target, and it’s a small camp, could house fifty men or more. Do you want the images flown out to you?’

  ‘No, I just wanted a clue as to what it was – jungle camp or McDonalds.’

  ‘Jungle camp fits the bill. Thermal images being taken now, I’ll update you later.’

  Moran called in forty minutes later, as I did the rounds and checked that we were secure. ‘I got Tomo and Nicholson up a tall tree, calling me using sat phones. They can see long wooden huts in the trees, a small parade ground, a mess hut full of happy people eating, some trucks, some storage areas it looks like, a small firing range and a small assault course.’

  ‘Proper little soldier’s playground, eh.’

  ‘No white men seen so far, no helicopter on the ground.’

  ‘Does Rizzo’s phone give him the exact GPS position?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Make a note of them for an airstrike, give them to Major Harris, adjust for the gap between you and them.’

  ‘OK.’

  I called ship, asking for Commander Dawson. ‘It’s Wilco, and we now have eyes on that camp, and it’s a proper little training ground, FARC rebels in residence. Standby SEALs for smash and grab, and your strike wing for a bombing run.’

  ‘We don’t use smash and grab, we use human asset recovery.’

  ‘Yours sounds better, but if you met my men you’d go with smash and grab. Wilco out.’

  Moran called back ten minutes later. ‘We missed the helicopter, it was down a track, it’s warming up now.’

  ‘Look to see who gets on, and shoot the thing down with silencers, then get to it before they do - if you can. How are your men placed?’

  ‘We could storm it if need be.’

  ‘How many armed men in this place?’

  ‘Six armed guards, rest are drinking and eating.’

  ‘If you think a major player is about to get on that helo, hit him in the legs, kill the guards and … then everyone else before you double-time away east. If you start shooting, you leave after ten minutes regardless.’

  ‘Call you back.’

  Ten minutes later he was back on, and out of breath. ‘Got a white guy, helo on fire, guards dead, and the disco dance party has been rudely interrupted.’

  I heard the cracks down the phone. ‘Read the white guy’s ID,’ I urged.

  ‘Andrew John Solicter, 12/10/1954, Colombian drivers’ license but a white guy, cash, fuck all else save the five thousand dollars we pinched.’

  ‘Describe him.’

  ‘Grey, overweight, bad burn mark on his left forearm but old. He speaks English with an American accent.’

  ‘Drag him off, re-group east, then make him talk, but away from the new troop, just Rizzo and you and Henri. Work fast, feet burnt then balls. And tell him Wilco says hello.’

  I called Bob Staines. ‘Awake?’

  ‘Was just settling down. Oh, Terry is here.’

  ‘Is he happy to work with you?’

  ‘Yes, was an odd reunion, a bit tearful actually. He’s already in the swing of it.’

  ‘Note this name. Andrew John Solicter, 12/10/1954. Probably a fake name, but see where’s he’s been using it. Colombian drivers license.’

  ‘I’ll have a look now, and my friend in Interpol can run names without getting caught.’

  Moran called back as I paced up and down in the dark. ‘I called GL4 with the phone belonging to this guy.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Give us five minutes, we’re mopping up and moving. Lads are setting fire to everything.’

  So much for the ten minute limit. I called ship and asked for an airstrike to be made ready, no SEALS to smash and grab, Major Harris having the coordinates from Moran.

  When Moran called back, ten minutes later, he reported, ‘This guy passed out, and now he’s offering us large sums of money. I think Rizzo is interested.’

  ‘Offer him a deal, in that you let him go for information about Colonel Raywood or Charley Rose.’

  ‘Hold on.’

  I could hear. ‘You know Colonel Raywood or Charley Rose? Well?’ Moran came back on with, ‘Wilco, he’s looking a bit shocked.’ I heard the muffled scream. ‘And Rizzo just set fire to his balls.’

  ‘Tell him you’ll burn him alive and leave him to be eaten by the bugs.’

  I could hear Moran threatening the man, followed by a loud muffled scream.

  Moran came on with, ‘He says he has money tucked away, millions.’

  ‘Put him on.’

  ‘Hello?’ came a gasp.

  ‘This is Wilco. You want to make a deal, you tell me about what Raywood is up to. I’ll let you walk, and then … then your own people will never trust you again, so you’ll need to retire.’

  ‘Synthetic cocaine, but … it’s made by mixing extract of the … the cocoa family, the Lucinda plant, which is legal … and used for medicine, it … it makes skin numb,’ he strained to get out. ‘They mix it in a vat … bacteria … with fifty percent real cocaine … and after … after it is four times more … but passes the test for cocaine, and … and people think it cocaine.’

  ‘Raywood wanted Tomsk gone so that he could sell this cocaine substitute?’

  ‘He wants all cartels destroyed.’

  ‘Where can I find Raywood?’

  ‘Sometimes here, or Brazil. He works with Manchez, Medellin.’

  ‘Put my man on.’

  ‘Wilco?’

  ‘I need you to make sure that his body is never found, ever.’

  ‘We’ll have to carry him.’

  ‘Wait, the Americans will bomb the camp, be just charred remains left, that’ll cover it. Leave him in his helicopter and run like fuck.’

  I called Major Harris. ‘Target is on fire, so easy to spot in the jungle. I need it levelled, thoroughly, there are … underground weapons stores, no civilians nearby. Launch with the aim to hit that camp in about ten minutes.’

  ‘I’ll chat to them now, planes are ready.’

  I called Moran.

  ‘Yeah,’ came a man out of breath.

  ‘You clear of that camp? Got Tomo out the tree?’

  ‘Just moving off now.’

  ‘Any wounds?’

  ‘Got a glass cut and a splinter.’

  ‘You have ten minutes before they drop bombs on that camp.’

  ‘Shit.’ I could hear. ‘Run! The Americans will bomb this place.’ Moran finally said, ‘Call you later.’

  I called Harris. ‘Our men are out of that camp, bomb when ready.’

  ‘Standby.’

  I gave the basic detail to the Colonel and Morgen, the American man left out of the detail. Next, I called GL4, the nice lady captain answering, and I gave her the American’s fake name, for Tinker.

  Moran called back five minutes later, out of breath. ‘Yanks are bombing the fuck out of that camp, be nothing left of that guy, no post-mortem.’

  ‘Get to a spot a few miles away, up high, then we’ll get the helos in.’

  I called Commander Dawson on ship. ‘Damage assessment, human eyeball intel. Target destroyed, underground bunkers destroyed, no civilian casualties or collateral damage, valuable intel gained from the scene first, my men not hurt, job well done. Wilco out.’

  I called Tomsk. ‘You awake?’

  ‘Yes, not in the club tonight.’

  ‘I found out what this is all about; fake cocaine.’

  ‘Fake?’

  ‘There is a plant, Lucinda plant -’

  ‘I know it, some grows here, but it doesn’t work like cocaine. The ancient tribes use to use it on wounds, makes the skin numb. Some used to eat it, but their legs had to be cut off below the knee.

  ‘Doctors use it now, for some drug during surgery,
and dentists use it, but it causes kidney failure in some people. What use it is to them?’

  ‘They mix it with real cocaine, in a vat with bacteria, probably genetically modified bacteria, and what’s left is good enough to fool people it’s cocaine, but I guess a lot cheaper to make. They increase the volume four times.’

  ‘If it works … I am out of business.’

  ‘All the cartels would be, no growers like Medellin, no pipeline people because this could be made in America. I think they wanted to attack all the cartels, and start a war against them, idiots like me doing their dirty work for them and hitting Tiujana then Medellin.

  ‘But after a few years people would suffer kidney failure, feet cut off, so there would be just a few years to make a good profit and to retire.’

  ‘You know who is behind it?’

  ‘Yes, and we have some work to do. In the town of Paizo in Brazil is a medical opioid company. Bribe people, find out if they have any buildings in the jungle they own, where they could make and test this stuff. Find out where it grows naturally.

  ‘Start looking for white men visiting that company and the jungle lab, follow them, but I have some phone leads and we could maybe find where they make it.’

  ‘I can bomb that company! I have their Semtex.’

  ‘Not yet, we need all the players, and then we need them discredited, people aware of fake cocaine and worried about it.’

  ‘They could make some and sell it to me, I would not know, then my customers get sick and I lose business.’

  ‘Hire some very good scientists, get them testing batches for you, and fast.’

  ‘I have some, but I get more, the best.’

  ‘Have them look for the DNA of the Lucinda plant. Oh, you know a Medellin man, Manchez?’

  ‘Yes, he is third in line. He is behind this?’

  ‘Maybe, but I doubt he knows what they have planned. Medellin would be out of business.’

  ‘Yes, they are not stupid.’

  ‘Keep this quiet for now, no one must know, they must have people close to you.’

  ‘Tiny is making those two men talk. So far, they admit they would bomb my hotels and clubs.’