Wilco- Lone Wolf 8

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘And wounded civvies, sir?’

  ‘Do what you can, don’t bring them here, they’d just be left to die. This country is better, but dirt poor. Have military medics patch them up, but then ... you have to send them packing. If you bring wounded back here they’ll stay here, and die here.’

  They exchanged looks.

  ‘You took a baby back.’

  ‘Yes, and we helped a few civvies get home, and stretched a few rules. Do what your heart tells you, worry about consequences later. We did.’ I took in their faces. ‘It may sound odd coming from an officer in the British Army in this day and age, but show no mercy.’

  The Lt Col had walked around. ‘Gentlemen, I expect a high body count. Get ready to move out. Dismissed.’ They moved off with a purpose. He faced me. ‘Good speech, it gets it very much in context what we’re here for, and that right is on our side. I think you frightened them a bit as well, but that’s a good thing, no heroics over there – and you paint a god awful picture of the place.’

  ‘It’s hell on earth, sir, quite literally. But I love the place, because right and wrong is so clearly defined right in front of me, and I get to fight for good over evil in a biblical setting.’

  ‘Well, when you put it like that, I guess it does make things very black and white, no corporate takeovers or tax avoidance, just the rules of the jungle.’

  He stepped away as Crab and Duffy stepped out. ‘We doing anything useful? Besides being blown-up?’

  ‘Bit dangerous to take the coppers out, but have them in small teams protecting this place, and some on the roof, ask Mister Haines to send patrols south.’

  They headed off, now with something to do.

  Inside, I found the “G” Squadron officers, tea mugs in hand, the Lt Col chatting to them. I faced Taggard. ‘Sorry, sir, but time is against us here. Your men can rest in the OPs.’

  I led him to the map. ‘Trucks will drop you up here, roughly twelve miles north. There’s a place where the river is shallow, two feet deep, slow moving. Leave one troop this side, rest cross over, three OPs, roving patrols for now along this dirt road.

  ‘When rested, leave the troop this side, then your men move east, but you’ll need to avoid wandering down that track. A few miles east the road gets better, then we have a village.

  ‘Your target is the junction east of that village, several mines dotted around. We have 66mm, have the men take plenty, sir.’

  He nodded, a finger on the map. ‘We expect the rebels to form up there?’

  ‘I expect some to break off and go rape the girls in that village.’

  He turned to me.

  ‘It’s of no strategic value, but close enough to the action to be a fun visit for a few hours. Have your men ambush them, withdraw and hide, then ambush again down the road.’

  ‘Jesus,’ the Lt Col let out. ‘Military strategy based on the rape habits of the men we’re up against.’

  Taggard faced him. ‘They’s not a pleasant lot, sir.’

  ‘So I’ve been hearing.’

  Trucks ready, I stood and watched as the Gurkha jeeps escorted “G” Squadron, the convoy turning north. They had just disappeared when a taxi pulled up, a dozen guns aimed at it. I ran in, rifle ready.

  ‘It’s OK!’ I shouted. ‘He’s with us.’

  ‘What the fuck..?’ Max protested as he eased out.

  ‘We had someone try and drive in a car bomb.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Your first story.’ I helped him lug his kit inside.

  Morten and Haines greeted him like a long lost relative, tea handed over, a camp bed found for him.

  I loudly stated, ‘For those of you who’ve not met him before, this is Max from The Sun newspaper. Make sure he spells your names right.’

  ‘And do we have some say over what he prints?’ the Lt Col asked me.

  ‘We sure do, and 2 Para will get a two page spread, so ... think up some wording, sir, for potential new recruits to read.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  My phone trilled, so I stepped out. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘It’s David. Can you talk?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘All hell breaking loose here, French Ambassador dragged in and shouted at. French President has promised an enquiry, and that heads will roll.’

  ‘You still have yours?’

  ‘So far, some awkward moments. What happened to the man who drove the car bomb?’

  ‘On his way to Freetown with a police escort. What happens to him is down to the colonel in charge.’

  ‘Did the Army arrive?’

  ‘Yes, 2 Para, and more SAS. 2 Para are tabbing up a jungle track as we speak, to a bridge and road they’ll hold. “G” Squadron have been driven north to their drop-off point before they move east. My lads are resting, be off tonight.’

  ‘So you’re starting to get the teams organised. And one group movement reported so far.’

  ‘One so far, in the far east, reported by my friends in low places.’

  ‘That connection is proving a benefit. And the plan is?’

  ‘Plan is to make a plan when we know what the chessboard looks like. Early days yet. But once my lot are in place we’ll have eyes everywhere.’

  ‘And the police?’

  ‘Are protecting this place, not over the border.’

  ‘Good to know, not that it’s safe there either.’

  ‘A bit safer now. Oh, Max the reporter is here, flew down, so the public will get the story I want them to get. No point in denying we’re here now, the bad boys know we’re here.’

  ‘And that’s the odd bit, because they got hammered the last time you met, so why be so brazen now?’

  ‘Like I said, someone will poison the President’s milk, because they’ll never take Monrovia by force.’

  ‘What if they split the country, north and south?’

  ‘North is swamp, south has everything, so good luck to them.’

  ‘Yes, quite.’

  ‘And that officer, Kelly?’

  ‘Just had his house here raided, wife and kids questioned at length – suitcase packed ready for a trip which they’ll not be taking now. We’re busy rounding up known associates. Hold on.’

  I waited.

  ‘French minister just resigned, press outside his door. I get the impression that the French President never knew, so there’s a bit of a blood-letting in place.’

  ‘Might cut off their funding, and they might pull out.’

  ‘Let’s hope so. Talk soon.’

  The base was now quieter, 2 Squadron patrolling around, police with them, Sasha and his team on the gate with the Ghurkhas.

  I was inside, half an hour later, when a plane was heard, and I stepped out. To my surprise, a French C-160 circled and landed, eased to a halt, and the first man down was Major Liban. His men followed him, French Echo, as I stepped forwards and waited.

  He closed in with a smile.

  I halted him with a flat palm and stern look as the C-160 powered off. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘This is how you greet us, eh?’ he asked with a smile.

  ‘What – the fuck – are you doing here?’ I shouted.

  He puzzled my attitude. ‘Our government sends us, yesterday, show of solidarity.’

  His men had gathered.

  ‘An hour ago we had a very large car bomb here, which we found in time, sent by your state oil company, Elf. If you had been here you would have all been killed. Across the fucking border are four thousand rebels moving south, paid for by the French state oil company, Elf.’

  I jabbed a finger at his chest, getting louder. ‘The French tax payers pay your wages, and the fucking French taxpayers are paying the wages of the men you say you have come to fight. So you – you call Paris and find out what the fuck is going on, and whose side you’re fighting on, or I’ll have you held as enemy soldiers! All of you, stay here and don’t move!’

  I turned my back on them and walked off as a very loud debate brok
e out. Phone out, I called David Finch. ‘It’s Wilco. French Echo just arrived, to pitch in and help out, a show of solidarity.’

  ‘Really? That’s odd, but ... I guess the French President wants to prove his case that he never knew about the involvement of Elf.’

  ‘I’ve asked them to call Paris, and threatened to arrest them as enemy soldiers.’

  ‘They’re just pawns in the game, so don’t be harsh with them, we have enough of a rift on the cards.’

  Phone down, it trilled. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘Colonel Mathews. OK to talk?’

  ‘Yes, sir, fire away,’ I said as I stood near the door, glancing at French Echo as they argued with each other.

  ‘You’ve ramped things up a little..?’

  ‘Yesterday we got word of Nigerian oil and French oil funding the rebels, all four thousand of them, and they’ve started moving south. I now have a few hundred men from 2 Para, and more SAS, enough to cut roads and set ambushes.’

  ‘That is quite a change, and I’ll send it up the line now. And your plan is?’

  ‘Plan is to see the chessboard before making a move. We’ll get eyes on, then see what we can do.’

  ‘We have a ship or two that can assist.’

  ‘We’re grateful, and I’ll keep that in mind.’

  ‘That Senator, he’s in Israel, but has suggested he’ll fly down to you.’

  ‘Not that safe around here, we just had a car bomb driven in by an ex-SAS man.’

  ‘Anyone hurt?’

  ‘No, I was suspicious and had it moved, otherwise we’d all be dead.’

  ‘And who paid him?’

  ‘French state oil company.’

  ‘They have an interest in Liberia?’

  ‘They’d like to, yes.’

  ‘This is ... suddenly above my pay grade, as you’d remind me. I’ll get back to you.’

  Inside, I got a cup of tea.

  ‘Who are that lot?’ the Lt Col asked of the French.

  ‘French Echo, the team I trained. A show of solidarity, when they can figure out which side they’re supposed to be on.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Their state oil company is pissing about over the border, and not on our side at all.’

  ‘They were involved in the biggest scandal in the history of mankind,’ Max put in. ‘They’re the most corrupt fuckers on the planet. Their directors spent $200m dollars on oil detection which they knew was a fraud. Most of the money went into Swiss banks, French taxpayers picking up the pieces. French don’t trust them.’

  I exchanged a look with the Lt Col. ‘Max, put a story on Reuters, right now. Elf Oil fund car bomb attack on British and French special forces in Sierra Leone, one man held for questioning. French Echo hostage rescue team came close to being wiped out, missing the blast by minutes.’

  Smiling, he got to work.

  ‘Is that true?’ Morten asked.

  ‘Give or take an hour, yes,’ I told him.

  ‘French public will want blood,’ the Lt Col noted.

  I nodded. ‘Yes, sir, and Elf will have to stop funding the coup.’

  ‘They might go home,’ the Lt Col suggested.

  ‘We’re not that lucky, sir. Try not to be optimistic around this hell hole, eh.’

  He cocked an eyebrow at me.

  After I had used the very smelly latrines, flies everywhere, Moran called in.

  ‘I was bored, nothing happening here,’ he began.

  ‘We just had a big car bomb driven in, but spotted it in time, driven in by an ex-trooper funded by a French oil company.’

  ‘Bloody hell. No one hurt?

  ‘None, we were lucky.’

  ‘Why would a French oil company send a bomb?’

  ‘They want the oil rights next door, joint deal with the Nigerians.’

  ‘Shit...’

  ‘And French Echo just landed, happy till I threatened to arrest them all as enemy agents.’

  ‘They’re piggy in the middle.’

  ‘So, all quiet there?’

  ‘Not a sausage, wait -’ I could hear voices in the background. ‘Spoke to soon, large column driving south.’

  ‘Let them pass, count them.’

  ‘I’ll call you back.’

  Inside, I moved a post-it note just before Major Liban stepped in. I stood and faced him. ‘Well?’

  ‘My government is moving to arrest men in Elf Oil, and assures you of its best interests. The whole of 1st Battalion is coming down soon, to assist you.’

  I glanced at the map. ‘Have them land in Guinea, here.’

  Liban closed in.

  ‘You join them, and move east, cut off any retreat. We’ll harass those who move south. Here, are our Gurkhas, here SAS, here British Paras. My men will insert in the centre tonight.’

  Liban nodded. ‘We surround them.’

  ‘I’ll get you helicopters soon, you get OPs and eyes on ready, along this road near the border.’

  He straightened. ‘I can only apologise for Elf Oil, but every French soldier will hear of this – and want justice.’

  ‘We put the story on Reuters, so they will want justice sooner than you think. Get ready for the helicopters.’

  He stepped out as I called Captain Harris and updated him, requesting the Chinook. That Chinook loudly announced its arrival half an hour later, and I went aboard with a map and briefed the pilot – a warning about ground fire and not being seen landing. I tapped Liban on the arm and nodded before I left, and I made a phone gesture with my hand – for him to call me after inserting.

  Back at the map table, I used a post-it note to mark where the French should be dropped off.

  “G” Squadron had called in, Taggard back here with a captain and his SSM, and the men were moving off east.

  Major Bradley called. ‘You had a car bomb? O’Leary is in a flap about some ex-trooper.’

  ‘Yes, sir, he knew exactly what to say to tempt me, knew all the right people, said he worked with Mally, but I was suspicious.’

  ‘And if it had gone off somewhere awkward?’

  ‘Where it was parked ... it would have killed all of Echo.’

  ‘Lesson to be learnt then.’

  ‘Can’t have half the men split off all the time, everywhere we go.’

  ‘No, would be hard, but you use separate helos and planes where possible.’

  ‘There’ll be over the border tonight, just dangerous rebels to worry about.’

  ‘You need me out there?’

  I could tell that he was feeling left out, but I also knew what his wife would say. ‘There’s a Lt Col here, and he’ll be at the map table day and night, and Major Taggard.’

  ‘I best not step on their toes then.’

  As we waited some news more RAF medics turned up, a detachment left at the airport. They had brought a tent, and it was set-up out front to receive wounded, and with little to do I had sandbags moved around.

  When my phone went it was Captain Harris. ‘We’re tracking two groups, radios in use, and we had a Chinook drop a few clever bundles by chute. They get stuck in trees and re-transmit nearby radio usage; we’re picking up idle chat as well as orders issued.

  ‘First group is the one you mentioned, and Moran called me as well, second group is west, moving slow, some track – not a road.’

  ‘How big the second group?’

  ‘Based on radio use, same as the first one.’

  ‘Surprised they’re using a track.’

  ‘Map shows it as a kind of road, just not a main road. It could have tarmac and be single lane.’

  ‘Anything to worry the Gurkhas up north?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Oh, French Echo and 1st Battalion French Paras are inserting into Guinea, they’ll move east from there. You may see some odd signals.’

  ‘OK, I’ll update everyone.’

  I updated the map board.

  ‘Two groups, same size,’ Lt Col Marsh noted over my shoulder. ‘Thousand men in total. But still
well east of us.’

  ‘They won’t stay there,’ I told him. ‘It’s devoid of young girls. Population is all southwest.’

  His major took a call, a sergeant manning a radio in a side room. Stepping out, he announced, ‘Our first lads have reached the base camp, all quiet for now.’

  I was called outside, three Land Rovers with tall aerials having arrived. One would stay here, one would be with the Paras – this side of the river, one up with the Gurkhas, all capable of reaching Freetown – so they claimed. The Paras officers took charge of the first jeep - after searching it for bombs as its puzzled driver and operators looked on.

  The sunset brought calmness to the base, many of the occupants less than calm, the tension clear on their faces. The Paras were all now at their base camp, ambush points created above the road as well as stretching down that road almost half a mile.

  “G” Squadron would spend the night in three OPs along their target track, then move off tomorrow. Liban had called in, his team split into four-man patrols, and they had spread out along the target road, reporting lots of movement back and forth, many trucks and many gunmen.

  I gave SIS London a lengthy sitrep, and they would pass it on to the MOD and to all interested parties.

  Colonel Dean called after I finished eating with Henri and Sasha, beef from the mess tent, the Echo lads awake and with it now. ‘Sir?’

  ‘There are some extra bodies on the way down, many bringing sniper rifles. How is it there?’

  ‘Paras and “G” Squadron have deployed, to their starting points. “G” Squadron will creep east, French Echo and their Paras landing in Guinea to the north to move east. I have two OPs in the centre, reporting movement, more to insert tonight.’

  ‘Who’s in charge of the Paras?’

  ‘Lt Col Marsh, sir.’ The man in question turned to me.

  ‘Put him on.’

  I handed over the phone. ‘Colonel Dean.’

  Marsh smiled. ‘You sat behind a desk, Deano?’ he began, and he wandered out, laughing loudly down the corridor as he went. Back inside, ten minutes later, he handed over my phone. ‘We did a lot of courses together, then he was promoted ahead of me when I broke a leg and was off for three months. We go way back.’

  ‘Without that broken leg, sir, you could be head of the SAS,’ I teased.