by Geoff Wolak
They exchanged looks.
The PM asked, ‘What’s wrong with Mi5? How come they can’t do what you do?’
‘First, they had been infiltrated. Second, they have oversight and rules and are afraid to upset the JIC. If they have a suspicion, then the file gets nowhere, because they can’t use a suspicion against someone like Lord Michaels. Mi6 told me that he was above the law, a senior freemason, very well connected.
‘That oversight is good, in that it stops us becoming a police state, but bad in that they’re afraid to act, especially against the old boy network. If Mi5 had opened an active file on Lord Michaels, the JIC members would have told Lord Michaels over dinner, and shut down the investigation.
‘You need to revamp the conspiracy laws, to say that any senior official that makes a decision or policy affecting someone known to him - without stating that known association for the record, gets twelve years in prison, and you need to shout at the JIC and others.
‘If a JIC official affects an active Mi5 case, and it can be proven he sat down for dinner with the man being investigated without declaring that fact, he goes to prison. Same goes for civil servants, your greatest threat.’
‘Why are they my greatest threat?’
‘They’ll leak to the press anything they don’t like you doing. Wait and see. Last Prime Minister told me what they were like.’
‘And your oversight?’ the Home Secretary asked.
‘If I had oversight … then Sir Richard Bell would be in this room still, a tall London tower would have come down, and the bank would be running Sierra Leone, Liberia and Guinea, drilling the oil. If I had oversight, then Lord Michaels would be running this country, not you.
‘So you best hope I have the right agenda and outlook, the right moral fibre, and the stomach to keep doing this when little shits in my own government and intelligence services are trying to get me killed, or to kill my family. I’ll only take so much shit before I leave, and go work elsewhere.’
They exchanged a look.
‘And the people who killed your father?’ the PM asked.
‘The bank. But that key event triggered a reaction. I told the Americans I would take action if they didn’t, so they acted.’
‘The IRA contacted us, terrified that you and your men would be put in the province. They offered to cooperate fully.’
I nodded. ‘I never figured the men to be IRA.’
‘And the bank..?’
‘Will be dealt a blow, and will stop screwing with our country.’ I pointed an angry finger. ‘You make the policy, not them, you lead this country, not them.’
The PM nodded. ‘Have your men been involved in any illegal activity on mainland soil?’
‘No, and you have no need to worry.’
‘The bombs in NordGas and Bastion?’
‘Not us, that was … others. And Prime Minister, it’s important that you never mention the others, that you play dumb on visits to the States.’
‘You’re in touch with them?’
‘Yes.’
The Home Secretary put in, ‘There are probably a few dozen laws that say you shouldn’t be!’
‘I have regular chats on the phone to drug lords, Russian gun runners, and others even less palatable. That was what Mi6 set up, and that was what brought down Lord Michaels and his gang and uncovered Sir Richard Bell and the sleeper agents.’
‘Too damn valuable to stop the intel flow,’ the PM said with a sigh.
‘Prime Minister, you were elected by the working classes, so make use of this, keep them on your side, shout for law and order over chaos. And use this at the next election, you’ll sail through; people will associate the Tories with the old boy network.’
They smiled widely, looks exchanged.
‘You’re a little rascal, you know that.’
‘Yes, sir, it has been pointed out once or twice.’
Back at GL4 I could see the new wooden huts being worked on, and I suggested to Billy that our Guinea soldiers claim the first two. And did he know any good blanket stackers?
Sergeant Tobo and his men moved over at 5pm, bedding and mattresses carried, tea bags and kettle issued, toilet paper handed over with soap.
Bob Staines called me at 7pm as I sat in the canteen chatting to those still at the base, including Tobo. I stepped outside.
He began, ‘We’ve spent eleven million on rewards, or it looks like we will. Got some very good intel from a man in Paris, two men to deal with soon. But a Paris newspaper received around twelve million euro from a rich businessman, so those up to no good in the corridors of power will be crapping themselves right about now.’
‘Seems to be working then. Good, I’ll sleep safer.’
‘Don’t know how you sleep at all. Oh, Leon gave me a package for you, it should be with you in the morning.’
‘Get me a Belgian police van or two – no windows, hidden for now, but be extra careful with the track back.’
‘OK,’ he slowly let out. ‘Something planned?’
‘Maybe, still a work in progress.’
Off the phone, I stared out across the airfield and looked up the number for Prince Kalid, then hesitated, and returned to the canteen.
Miller called an hour later, as I sat in the recreational shed with Tobo’s men and others, one of Tobo’s men being a good pool shark. ‘Can you talk?’
‘Fire away,’ I said as I stepped outside.
‘My bosses are now of the opinion that the bank is sunk, so … we’ll break it up and grab the best parts. Too much publicity, and NordGas is a fucking disaster area.’
‘Would you like me to sink the bank, once and for all?’
‘If it could be done at no risk to you, no evidence.’
‘It could, yes, I have friends in low places.’
He laughed. ‘How’s London looking?’
‘Morgues are full, streets are quiet now, newspapers have plenty to print. I’m not unhappy with how London is looking,’ I told him.
‘Good.’
‘Can you let me know when the bank’s board meets again?’
‘Six days from now.’
‘It might be wise if your people were not in on the board meeting.’
‘They won’t be, we now have a frosty relationship with them.’
Call ended, I took in the base and sighed. I called Prince Kalid as men walked back and forth to the sheds.
‘Ah, Major, how are you, my friend?’
‘I’m still alive, which must come as a disappointment to some. Listen, we need to meet -’
‘I’m in Paris tomorrow.’
‘It’s no longer my favourite city to visit.’
He laughed. ‘I can see why, yes. London Gatwick, they have a VIP lounge.’
‘Get me the time, but I need around three hours to get there.’
‘I will organise it, yes.’
At 8pm the next day I was in a suit, MP Pete with me as we entered the VIP area. Prince Kalid welcomed me, Pete found a seat and a cup of tea, and we sat away from other VIP travellers, some of those travellers being a rock band that looked familiar.
I began, ‘The Americans will break all ties with the bank, so I’ll destroy the bank.’
‘Ah, good.’
‘You mentioned some al-Qaeda men.’
‘Yes, a crazy bunch, yet … unemployed shall we say. I released them from prison when they gave up names and assisted us. I thought that someday … a day like this might come.’
‘Can you get them to Europe without being seen? A private flight to Northern Cyprus?’
‘Yes, easy enough.’
‘From there I’ll get them to Holland. You’ll need a good middle man-’
‘I have one, from our intelligence services. He has an Algerian passport.’
‘Perfect. Have the middle man recruit them for a job, to get inside the bank, to let the staff go but to hold the board members till they transfer money to a bank account in … say Yemen. Make it look like the al-Qaeda men will get
millions, hundreds of millions, with the aid of an insider.
‘Show them a map of the drains, and after they set fire to the building and kill the board members they would escape through these drains, a truck waiting.’
‘And … will they escape?’
‘Hell no, I’ll have American soldiers there to kill them.’
He smiled. ‘Dead men don’t talk. And to have such men attack the bank will be … poetic justice indeed.’
‘The final nail in the coffin.’
He stood. ‘I have some men to move.’
‘I’ll send you a fax of the building layout -’
‘I already have it, detailed blueprints,’ he said with a grin.
‘Make sure that the drains are described as being opened ready, men in place ready to assist.’
He nodded. ‘We will have some fun with the bank. And Jeremy Michaels?’
‘Ate a scalpel that didn’t agree with him.’
He laughed. ‘Good luck to us both.’
I was soon driving back with Pete, who was told that I was arranging a secret insert to Yemen from Oman, which was kind of true anyhow.
David Finch called as we drove. ‘You met with Prince Kalid?’
‘Spying on me?’
‘We keep tabs on people like Prince Kalid, VIP visitors.’
‘He will arrange for my team to slip quietly into Oman when the time comes, no publicity till after we insert – just in case.’
‘A prudent move, yes. You could have just called him…’
‘I trust my phone, but I don’t know what his end is like. Might be people like you keeping tabs on him. These days I’m overly cautious.’
‘Maybe not a bad thing.’
Arriving back, I stepped away from the car and called Mike Papa in Monrovia. ‘Mister President.’
‘How are you, my friend? I read about this attack on your father.’
‘He was sick, a few months to live, so they did him a favour.’
‘And the men…’
‘Sent by the bank, which itself is now very sick and will soon be dead.’
‘Many men killed in London, bombs in Ivory Coast…’
‘We are … cleaning house.’
‘So maybe a quiet region afterwards.’
‘Yes. Listen, I want you to buy two or three small aircraft, like the ones that attacked me, rockets on the wings. I will get the pilots and the British will maintain them.’
‘You will use them around the region, to shoot down other aircraft..?’
‘That’s the idea.’
‘I know a man who supplies such aircraft, I will make some calls.’
‘Tomsk can assist you.’
Next call was the Air Commodore, selecting his mobile phone number. ‘Wilco, are you OK?’
‘Yes, sir, don’t worry about me. Listen, can you get me four pilots that can fly a plane like a Tucano, we’ll soon have some in Sierra Leone, armed, used for combat air patrols and ground attack. I’ll want RAF roundels painted on them.’
‘Battle of Britain! That will get us some good publicity.’
‘Find me some pilots, then arrange a team to look after the aircraft in Freetown airport. Oh, and sir, chocks away, tally ho!’
In the morning I had Ginger tasked with getting the two 14 Intel captains up to speed, not on the paperwork but on weapons and fitness.
Meanwhile, Tobo and his men were on the airfield, compass and maps in hand, counting their paces, moving from place to place, small markers with numbers painted on found and noted, our tank crews curiously observing them.
David called at 10am. ‘The useless wankers … so called, have keenly made six arrests this morning.’
‘Making some progress then.’
‘And the Cayman Island bank details are proving very useful, what we have so far from that chap – The Sun newspaper sent them to us. Further arrests to follow, no less than sixteen people being discussed with the Crown Prosecution Service as we speak.’
‘Definitely some progress.’
‘Two Mi5 chaps were let go quietly, two have been arrested, and when they face the magistrate the publicity will hit, and the Telegraph has linked the bomb attacks in Ivory Coast to the deaths in London to NordGas and to the men shot dead in Holland.
‘And … a group of MPs wrote to the Prime Minister, a demand to know if this was all down to you and your men. SIB team on the way down to chat.’
‘Not to worry, I was here, cameras show that, lads are accounted for.’
Off the phone, I went and found our MP Captain and asked that he itemise where all of our men are, and where they were these past few days.
‘No need, I already have it, sorted it when they started asking questions. I rang the hotel in Tenerife and checked that Rizzo and the gang were there, same for Swifty and a few others. The hotel in Tenerife couldn’t identify Rizzo and the gang till I said three big men with stupid moustaches!’
I smiled. ‘SIB on their way, so show them your list. Then check with the armoury.’
‘All weapons accounted for, less dispersed stores in Africa,’ he assured me.
SIB arrived after lunch, Captain Moorehouse with the team, our MP Captain going through his list with them, and as a group they walked to the armoury and made demands of an alert and awake Hamster, forms checked, weapons diligently counted and tallied.
MP Pete made a formal statement and signed it, the Brigadier making a statement and signing it. SIB had no avenues to pursue, apart from the American Wolves. They would need to check with the US Embassy for the whereabouts of the American Wolves, most being Stateside.
I noticed Salome coming out the Killing House with Tomo and Dicky. ‘What you three been up to?’ I loudly but playfully demanded.
‘Pistol work, Boss,’ Dicky told me with a grin.
‘And how is the major’s pistol work?’ I quietly asked.
‘Getting better,’ Tomo told her with a grin, getting a look from her. They walked off towards the armoury, chatting.
That evening I occupied my time with Tobo’s troop, some of my men helping out, and we practised rapid first aid treatment, tourniquet techniques, moving a wounded man, getting a pad on and taped up quickly. Tobo’s men practised in groups of three, always with a smile, always keen.
The following day I was nervous, plans to make, detail to be checked. I was about to break as many laws as those I had condemned in the press, if not a great many more.
Two Belgian police vans had been bought second hand, painted freshly, uniforms acquired, prints wiped off the vans. Six old AK47s were now ready, wiped down, magazines wiped down, ammo ready, along with six pistols with silencers – also wiped down.
The icing on the cake was the fact that the weapons had been seized by the Belgian police ten years earlier, and listed as destroyed. There would be a few loud questions asked when the weapon’s origins were finally checked by the Belgian police.
Bob Staines had also secured several large CS gas dispensers, large enough to quickly clear a ballroom of its guests.
I called him around noon. ‘Next step, No.1, is to get some protestors.’
‘Protestors?’
‘Belgian protestors, to protest outside the bank on Friday.’
‘Ah, a distraction, keep the security busy, and an excuse for the police to arrive – in vans.’
‘Yep. So find some left wing groups unhappy about NordGas and the bank, and slip them enough money to be interested.’
‘Won’t be difficult to arrange, already a few left wing groups protesting in Amsterdam and Brussels.’
‘Final piece of the puzzle is a good sniper, but not our usual man.’
‘I have a man that’s good, and … expendable.’
‘On the day, he hits the door guards in the legs and smashes the door glass. If the real police turn up he hits tyres and he keeps them at bay, have him stock some CS gas ready, and smoke canisters. If the van can’t get in, he hits the gate guards in the leg.
‘Then �
�� we need a large distraction in Antwerp centre, police heading that way at the right time. Pick a building, an important building, blanks fired, smoke going off.’
‘There’s an art museum, some very valuable items on display this week – I read about it.’
‘Make it look like a robbery then, just as our vans approach the bank.’
‘Seems like a good plan all around, just need some luck,’ he suggested.
My next call was Langley. ‘Hey Wilco, you OK?’
‘Yes, sir, I’m fine. Listen, I have some intel on al-Qaeda men moving to Europe for some attack. Can you get the Deltas to Holland for Thursday?’
‘Hell yes.’
‘This needs to be done quietly, sir, or the attackers may go away. I’m thinking that you shoot them full of holes, not deter them.’
‘Best way, yes.’
‘I have to be very careful with the intel source as well. If you’re seen to move ready then my agent could be compromised and killed.’
‘I understand, we’ll have them hidden ready, permission asked for, helos sat nearby.’
‘I aim to get the details of the men, so have the Deltas team leader chat to me Thursday, we may have profiles of the bad boys team.’
‘Captain Castile is in Germany with his team, you worked with him.’
‘That would be great, sir.’
Off the phone, I knew what would come next. Miller called at 5pm. ‘Wilco, you are cut out for this work, ain’t ya.’
‘What work is that?’
‘Al-Qaeda attack the bank, Delta Force get some good TV minutes. My boss is walking around with a silly grin and an erection right now.’
‘Then let’s hope it goes off well. The job, not his erection.’
He laughed. ‘You need any assistance?’
‘Tricky part will be moving Delta Force around without someone in the bank being suspicious.’
‘Bank won’t be concerned, Delta Force go in and out of Amsterdam all the time, and there’s a Dutch military airfield they use. I’ll give them a nudge that way, tighten up security.’
‘Then we wait, and pace up and down, as they did before D-Day.’
Bob called at 9pm to say that the “package” from Northern Cyprus was on its way to Holland, Leon arranging it, a Russian plane and crew. I paced up and down, wondering about what could go wrong.
