by Geoff Wolak
‘I sooo ... do not like the sound of that. What work … did you do here for Deep State?’
‘Safe houses in Sierra Leone and Guinea, ear to the ground, a man at the airport reporting your movements.’
‘Ah.’ I took in the mine. ‘How the left hand does not know what the right hand is doing. What's your real name?’
She hesitated. ‘Maria, Spanish grandparents.’
‘And if you were free, what career path would you follow?’
‘This is all I know. If I was waiting tables I'd kill the customers.’
‘If I dropped you in the local town, would you have a way out?’
‘Yes,’ came adamantly back.
‘If you survive, wait a few weeks and get in touch. I might have work for you that pays well, work that you can be proud of, assuming you have a soul left.’
I waved over the captain. ‘Drop her in the local town, untie her when you get there, that's an order – or I start shooting.’
‘Right, sir.’
As they drove off Morten stepped up to me. ‘Let her go?’
‘Her intel panned out, and we caught a high ranking British mole.’
‘Another one.’ He sighed out. ‘What the fuck is wrong with these people?’
‘A combination of power, and feeling useless in their private lives, and being jealous of the likes of me – immortalised on the big screen.’
‘Don't take this the wrong way, but I'd not swap places with you.’
I smiled widely as he walked off, and called Tiny. ‘You awake?’
‘Was just having a nice bath.’
‘Listen carefully.’ I detailed Bannaczek. ‘Go find him.’
‘There are three casinos, so that'll be easy. What do I do with him?’
‘Disable him, drug him, stiletto in the eye, throw him off a high floor … up to you.’
‘I'll have fun with him. Must it be done quietly?’
‘Hell no. Just don't be seen or get caught.’
‘I‘m not a fucking amateur!’
‘You haven't been in the game long, so be careful, I'd miss you.’
‘Ah, that's so sweet.’
‘Go do some work, lazy toad.’
Teams called in, a few bodies having been found, some wounded being finished off, but there was no one hanging around keen for a fight.
At midnight Colonel Mathews called. ‘We got permission for the B1s, they'll hit the target at 3am your time.’
In the morning I found a scene or carnage that had fewer smelling bodies, the Liberian soldiers dragging horses and carts down the tracks and bringing back bodies, extra dollars handed to them.
David called at 10am. ‘Keer failed the Q&A, suffered a heart attack.’
‘How many more?’ I sighed out.
‘He may have thought he was working with the CIA – and doing no wrong.’
‘Might be a few more of those out there.’
‘What comes next?’
‘Did they make a positive ID on Van de Berg?’
‘Yes, his wife, and the DNA and teeth. His wife is arguing for the assets to be unfrozen and not at all lamenting his passing. And the South African police have picked up a dozen people working with Van de Berg, questioning several managers, his business interests all front page. Nelson Mandela had roundly condemned him, organising an enquiry.’
‘Did you get a note about the Americans bombing?’
‘It's on the news already, a barracks flattened, many dead soldiers.’
‘But did they get Mgolo?’
‘Might never know, might have been hit by a bomb and blown into small pieces.’
Half an hour later I drove out in convoy to the oil pipe area, chatting to the British soldiers there and thanking them all, soon up to the oil derricks. The workers were back, hard hats worn, Wolves seen patrolling in pairs.
I found the captain and his NCOs in a hut. ‘This is not very tactical, you should be in a hole in the ground.’
‘We're taking a break,’ the captain said with a grin. ‘Got the canteen here working as well.’
‘We pulling out?’ a sergeant asked.
‘No, because this in an excellent training ground for your Wolves. They patrol out, they learn, and you decide if they're any good, you can drop a few.’
‘Most of these are solid,’ the captain told me.
‘Keep the pressure up,’ I told them. ‘And I'll have my men teach them.’
Sergeant Crab walked in. ‘Fighting over?’
‘Where you been?’ I puzzled.
‘Here. Why, was I supposed to be in the local five star hotel?’
‘No, peasant, so do some work and teach the Wolves.’
‘We have been.’
‘I'll get a few extra Echo lads up here to teach as well, to lead patrols. I want the Wolves brought on quickly.’
‘Some of these are shit hot,’ Crab told me.
‘Those are the ones I want, the superstars.’
I met many of the Wolves and chatted, inspecting a few trenches and OPs.
Back at the mine I had Slider, Henri and Sambo teach the Liberian soldiers, and to arrange patrols for them.
When it rained everyone complained, but it did not smell so bad afterwards. Bulldozers arrived, and the wreckage was moved into the mine, the runway soon clear, the An12s broken up and moved into the mine, a few extra bodies exposed and bagged up.
By the end of the following day the wreckage had gone, or at least been moved out of sight and over into the mine. Local men were employed to pick up debris and dump it in the mine, and the place was looking and smelling much better.
The SEALs rotated out, some off to Mauritania, 1st Battalion picked up in C160 after I thanked them, the SAS teams sent home apart from the duty team for Mauritania.
Tiny called that evening. ‘I got him,’ she smugly began.
‘Any evidence?’
‘Well ... some.’
‘What did you do?’ I worried.
‘Found a hooker, Ethiopian, gave her some money for clothes, got her into the casino and next to him and he was all over her. Up in his room she drugged him and let me in.'
‘And...’
‘I‘m sure the maid had a giggle when she found him.’
‘Dead?’
‘Brain dead, antifreeze under the hair – your trick.’
‘How the hell did you get antifreeze in South Africa?’
‘They use it in air conditioning units, dummy.’
‘Fingerprints?’
‘Wiped down,’ she insisted.
‘CCTV?’
‘Black wig and glasses. Besides, it looks like a drug issue.’
‘His phone?’
‘I have it, called in to London already.’
‘Smartarse. His cash?’
‘I gave it to charity.’
‘Yeah, right. Well go feed some penguins, then get back.’
‘No hurry. When you back in the UK?’
‘Soon, we're wrapping up here.’
I had Echo lead patrols with the American Wolves, two Echo men to six Wolves, and they dispensed useful advice, webbing pocket contents explained. But with London complaining I had to wrap things up, and I had missed the FBI investigation team. Still, they saw it on the news and I could not be accused of avoiding them.
A long thirty-six hours later I opened the door to our house, Swifty dumping kit with a loud theatrical moan. It was noon, and raining. Brew on, we sat and stared at the floor in smelly socks, white powder still on us.
‘American Wolves seem OK,’ Swifty finally noted.
I sipped my tea as I stared at the floor. ‘Hard first battle for them. Second, sorry, they were in Panama.’
‘Got some patrols in as well.’ He sipped his tea. ‘Three dead, four won't come back.’
‘Three?’
‘One died in hospital they said.’
I nodded, and sipped my tea. ‘Jungle fighting, rebels spraying it around, bound to be a few.’
‘Is R
ocko out of retirement then?’
‘He's not allowed to patrol, just FOB stuff. If he hits his head his retina his fucked.’
‘And if a helicopter lands on his head?’
I nodded. ‘Well … yeah … be fucked then.’
‘Did you get the shits behind it?’
‘I think so, but we don't have an ID on the body of warlord Mgolo, he could be alive.’
‘Yanks bombed him.’
I nodded. ‘Might have been out visiting relatives, his favourite aunt, or raping and pillaging. Your lot got any injuries?’
‘Three will be off a while, but should come back.’
I nodded, and sipped my tea.
‘Be spring soon, get some fishing in,’ Swifty noted.
‘Some law about not fishing...’
‘Spawning, yeah, have to wait to April supposedly. We'll go for the male fish, just the big ones.’
‘Still don't know why that guy ended up in our canal. But the clues led us to Mgolo and the coup, so … they helped us, in secret. Worry is, why do it in secret, who were they afraid of?’
‘Someone who'll spoil your day real soon.’
I glanced at him, then turned back to my smelly socks. ‘Probably, yes.’
