Wilco- Lone Wolf 17

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘They can make trouble, yes, I won’t deal with them. I sent a man to negotiate and they killed him, fucking animals.’

  ‘So maybe I’ll wipe them out. Get me those weapons.’

  An hour later Miller called.

  ‘You’re up late,’ I noted.

  ‘Just past midnight, not so late. That phone you wanted traced, it tracks to the Lobos cartel in Cegali, but it also made calls stateside, to L.A., so we’re interested to see who it is.’

  ‘You want me to destroy Lobos?’

  ‘That would be hard, damn hard, because they’re a franchise, ten men in every village spread from coast to coast. Men start off as a lower rank and work their way up, all very organised and regulated, and when you’re promoted you get a new tattoo, and if you make captain you get a tattoo on your neck.’

  ‘So easy to spot in a bar,’ I noted.

  ‘In a bar they’d have twenty men with them. Under the drug lord are lieutenants, then hitmen, then falcons.’

  ‘Falcons?’

  ‘Eyes and ears of the hitmen, who do the work, and report to the lieutenants - who don’t do any leg work. Lobos has sixty or more lieutenants, and each has up to a hundred men.’

  ‘And if I kill the boss?’

  ‘He’d be replaced real quick.’

  ‘So we need them bunched up. And on your side of the Rio Grande?’

  ‘The gangs in L.A. have the exact same structure, but they’re dependent on shipments across the border. They send back guns and ammo, and Levis and sneakers – genuine ones not knock-offs. The gangs like genuine items. And the Rio Grande is a long way off.’

  ‘So when I kill someone I should check the quality of his jeans…’

  ‘Yep. And the tattoos on the chest.’

  ‘We killed two men spying on us.’

  ‘They would be hitmen, qualified, but it would be normal to send a man with something to prove, telling him not to come back empty handed.’

  ‘You read up on all this?’

  ‘Years back I put together a report on it, read a lot of books. Everyone concluded that there was shit we could do about the situation. Kill a drug mule and he’d be replaced in a hour, kill a hitman or his lieutenant and there are ten men waiting to take his place.’

  ‘Carlos is now making money locally; I knocked out a drug lab and killed many of the small gangs. Hopefully he’ll grow to dominate this shit tip of a region, and he’ll talk to me and cooperate.’

  ‘We discussed that up the line, and we like it – at least we want to try it and see what happens. Can’t be any worse than what we have now. Oh, that barbed wire, it now covers two miles, and a Texas man drove his company trucks to the border with barbed wire and was filmed laying it – at his own expanse.’

  ‘So why has your government never fixed the fence?’

  ‘In places it’s a good fence, but it needs federal money, and Congress could never agree on a policy, since even if the fence was a hundred feet high they’d tunnel under it or break it down.

  ‘None of the states on the border want to spend even more money on patrols, and you’d need a man every sixty yards permanently, day and night. When drugs are involved, there’s money and resources for tunnels – and for cutting the fence, but I guess it would slow down migrants some.’

  ‘And if some day al-Qaeda wanted to get in?’

  ‘They’d walk across unopposed,’ he said with a sigh.

  ‘And the Canadian border?’ I asked.

  ‘A ten metre cut in the trees, no fence at all. If you can manage to walk more than ten metres – you’re in.’

  ‘Thank god most of the world’s terrorists can’t walk ten metres, eh.’

  At 2am Rizzo and his team dragged in two men on ponchos, and I had a look at the men’s chests, finding identical tattoos.

  ‘Some gang thing?’ Rizzo asked as we knelt over the bodies.

  ‘Lobos franchise. Like MacDonalds. If you work your way up you get tattoos on your neck, not a hair net.’

  ‘On the neck? But people would see them.’

  I stood. ‘I think that would be the whole point. Like a name tag in MacDonalds, yellow and orange shirt.’

  Monster stood over the bodies. ‘Why send two pairs to spy on us? They’d shoot at each other by accident!’

  ‘Such men are sent with a warning; bring back some news or … don’t come back. They don’t have a union, paid time off, or medical cover.’

  ‘If they don’t care about their men, they won’t get good work from them,’ Monster scoffed.

  ‘But they do,’ I insisted. ‘They work on fear, the fear of being burnt alive if they screw it up. No second chances.’

  Using the sat phone I found, I called it in to trace the number.

  ‘Nice expensive phone,’ Monster noted. ‘For the dumb help.’

  ‘They have the money to waste, weapons by the bucket-load.’

  Rizzo lifted a man’s hunting rifle. ‘Not bad, good range, nice telescopic sight.’

  ‘Keep it, and the others.’

  The night passed without further incident, four bodies for Rada to dispose of, two of the bodies offering genuine Levis. At noon I hitched a ride, Sasha along with me, and we headed in convoy to the villa in our greens, fully kitted just in case of a road ambush.

  At the villa we jumped down, rifles slung, and Miguel walked us in. I found that our doctor was looking better, a local male doctor fussing over her, the baby asleep on Carlos’s mother, who smiled broadly as I leant in to have a look at the little red bundle of joy. That bundle was quiet at the moment, not bawling out loudly.

  I told Carlos, as we sat, ‘I traced the sat phone used by the men spying on us, calls to Los Angeles as well as Cegali.’

  ‘Lobos men, yes, taking an interest in you.’

  ‘And … do you fear upsetting them?’

  He shrugged and held his hands wide. ‘They have tried to kill me many times, there is no talking to them. Any sign of weakness and they would come, but I would get warning, and I have good men here. Strangers in the town are reported straight away, and for many miles south.’

  ‘These four men came in from the north, across the border maybe, and unseen…’

  ‘Yes, but they cannot move many men like that, a few men dressed like soldiers will get through. But after they shoot we would close the roads quickly, wait at the border. They would not get away - and they know it.’

  ‘Your barbed wire was on the American news, and now a rich man from Texas copies.’

  He shrugged. ‘The area we put up wire, it is only used by migrants, not us. There will always be an easy way across, and in the east they dig tunnels. Some even flew a balloon across. It hit power lines and blacked out a town.’

  I smiled. ‘The drugs trade will always find a way, but … with you getting stronger, and Tomsk, maybe it will be more regulated and less violent.’

  ‘If the small gangs go, yes, hopefully.’

  ‘Oh, can you get me flares, pistol flares and some bigger ones.’

  ‘I can get most anything like that, and weapons; there is a good black market here, it all comes across the border. The Americans, they are keen to sell weapons that way, crates of them, very cheap. Then they complain when the weapons end up in Los Angeles with the gangs.’

  ‘I’ll create a kill zone north of your compound, see what flies we catch on the meat. Have some barbed wire delivered to the compound, and a few men with picks and shovels. Some sandbags, say … a thousand.’

  ‘The compound will attract attention,’ he warned.

  ‘I will set decoys and traps a mile out, I don’t want the compound hit. Do you … have a group of twenty men we could train?’

  ‘I can get soldiers.’

  ‘Soldiers?’

  ‘They served two years in the reserve, they know soldiering, quiet at night, good with camouflage. I use them at my landing strips.’

  ‘Bring them in if you can spare them, and if you trust them.’

  ‘I trust them
, their families live in the town. My house maid, her son is one of them.’

  ‘Then we’ll train your men to be good soldiers.’

  The lady doctor came and sat with us.

  ‘Are you feeling better?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, much better, I was dehydrated – and starving. I cannot breast feed yet.’ She glanced at Carlos before focusing on me. ‘You wish to send me to Panama?’

  ‘I was thinking … that if I pay for a small clinic near La Palma that you work there, get a wage, have a nanny for the baby. You would be close to your family and friends, and … doing some good for the community. Your safety would be guaranteed.

  ‘And if you cross the border here you may be arrested and sent back anyhow, and as an illegal you could not practice medicine.’ I waited.

  ‘I would love to have my own clinic, yes. You would pay?’

  ‘Don’t worry about the cost, I have plenty of money.’

  ‘How would I get back?’

  ‘I can arrange papers,’ Carlos offered. ‘You would fly. No one will question a refugee heading home. They question them heading north!’

  ‘When you are well enough to travel,’ I assured her. ‘Take your time, get your strength back.’

  She wiped a tear with the back of her hand. ‘I will call my son Petro Carlos Sanchez.’

  I turned my head to Carlos, who smiled widely. When the lady headed for the toilet I told him, ‘I may not have mentioned … but Tomsk has a film crew, interested in a documentary about the doctor and her journey, a happy ending. Of course, it will portray you in it.’

  His eyes widened. ‘Me?’

  ‘The generous benefactor. So, the question is, how you want yourself to be portrayed on the big screen.’ He was mildly stunned.

  Driving back to the compound, I asked Tomsk for thirty more Valmet to be sent up to us, grenade launchers and box fed. I had a feeling that the Lobos would step-up their efforts.

  In the daylight, I had the teams grab those few shovels available, and we walked out north counting paces and marking the distances in 100yard sections. Where my snipers had dug in we now dug further, a deep trench shovelled out, the dirt scattered, the front of the trench camouflaged.

  Walking west an hour later we found a gully and made it deeper, rocks piled up, a permanent poncho top-cover erected. And before we lost the light we dug a hole in a good spot on the east side, an escape route at the back.

  Barbed wire arrived by truck as it got dark, so we carried it out north – carefully, and two hundred yards in front of the trench, and down the slope we strung it out. Anyone approaching would pause, or trip, or make a noise, food for my snipers.

  A second reel of wire covered a nasty deep gully, one that could be used to sneak up on us, a third reel placed across a steep slope east, so anyone coming down the slope would get tangled.

  Back in the compound I made sure that everyone ate something, had a hot drink, and that they were ready. Sasha took three Russians west to the position there, Monster took two of Sasha’s spies east, and my snipers grabbed their former position, all three of them. The rest of the lads would be on rotation on the wall, all round defence taken, the south road manned by Rada’s men.

  I tested the radios, Sasha contacted, Nicholson contacted, finally Monster – who had taken a black blanket along with him. The Russians left here in the huts broke out a pack of cards, my lads either on the wall or sat chatting quietly.

  At midnight I got a report of jeep lights seen, six jeeps, and seen in a place where no jeeps had been seen before, east a mile. I rallied Stretch and Rizzo, and Sasha’s final two spies, the Russians warned to be ready as I led the team east, radio contact made with Monster.

  At his position we eased into the gully, room enough, and peered east.

  ‘Men got out, we could see them,’ Monster reported. ‘Then the jeeps drove off, so well fucking suspicious.’

  ‘I’ll go south and flank them, don’t shoot at us. We’ll be off to your right.’

  I led Rizzo, Stretch and the two spies out, and we moved bent-double south before walking briskly southeast. 600yards out I turned due east, now moving slowly, and now smelling cigarette smoke. The wind was north to south, so that pegged the group’s position well enough.

  Inching slowly north, I finally adopted a depression and lay down, the lads easing in and copying.

  ‘Wankers,’ Stretch let out. ‘Even I can smell the smoke.’

  ‘Looks like twenty of them,’ Rizzo whispered.

  I quietly transmitted, ‘Monster, you there?’

  ‘Yeah, go ahead.’

  ‘Twenty men, now four hundred yards in front of you. See them?’

  ‘One of the lads here thinks he could see a light.’

  ‘That’s because the bad boys approaching are all smoking.’

  ‘Wankers, eh,’ crackled back.

  ‘Nicholson for Wilco, we got at least three stealthy chaps sneaking up, to the left of the barbed wire. Sasha is reporting more west of him.’

  ‘We all fire at the same time. Standby, ten seconds.’

  Men near me got ready, aim taken in the dark, a fifty yard shot. Suddenly a man ran towards us, but halted and took his dick out for a piss without seeing us.

  I quietly transmitted, ‘Three … two … one … fire!’

  The man taking the piss was bent in half, the air leaving his lungs, his ablutions rudely interrupted. I had set automatic and now sprayed right to left along the line, and when they were down I sprayed the opposite way, knowing exactly where they were – and that they had little cover to make use off.

  Swapping magazines, I could hear the distant fire. In front of me a man got up and ran keenly back towards where his jeep had dropped him off, but he was spun. As he knelt I hit him, rounds cracking overhead, muzzle flashes seen. I aimed at the muzzle flashes, but it grew quiet quickly, the blackness reclaiming the night.

  Another man made a run for it, hit four times and spun away.

  Someone crawling, and Stretch hit him in the head. ‘Wanker,’ Stretch let out.

  I transmitted, ‘Monster, report.’

  ‘We fired at them, hard to see, could see your muzzle flashes off to the right. They down?’

  ‘Dead and wounded. Nicholson, report.’

  ‘We’re sure we killed two, one wounded and hidden.’

  ‘Don’t break cover. How’s Sasha doing?’

  ‘They hit most of the men approaching, rest ran off.’

  ‘Get comfy, all of you, and wait. Look and listen.’ I eased back. I quietly began, ‘When I first joined the Regiment, Sergeant Crab told me ... the man who hides and waits stays alive.’

  ‘Fucking right,’ Rizzo noted as he checked magazines.

  Stretch picked up a rock and launched it. Its loud landing - on other rocks - caused a burst of fire. Rizzo zeroed in on the muzzle flashes and fired, a wounded man now calling out.

  ‘What’s he saying?’ Rizzo asked.

  ‘Might be surrendering,’ Stretch noted, easing up and launching another stone. It hit someone, who let out a loud moan, all of us laughing through the dark. ‘It’ll save ammo if we stone them to death.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Rizzo whispered.

  I eased up and peered north. ‘Cigarette. But if I was bleeding out I might have one, my final few minutes.’

  Rizzo stood, set automatic and blasted at the dim cigarette glow before emptying the magazine where the men had fallen. Back down, he swapped the magazine. ‘No one left shooting back.’

  ‘They’re hiding,’ I suggested. ‘Afraid that Stretch will smash them on the head with a rock.’

  ‘We need grenades,’ Stretch idly noted.

  ‘Some on the way, and grenade launchers, and flares, and box-fed.’

  ‘We’ll fricking paste them,’ Rizzo enthused.

  Chilling, we sat quietly for an hour. Stretch lit up, but no one shot at his cigarette glow. When I was sure we were in no danger from a wounded man, I led them out east, and towards the repor
ted jeep position, radio contact maintained. We found the track, no jeeps seen, and so I led them south down the track, finding that it snaked east down a gentle decline.

  An hour’s slow movement brought us to a point above a road, six jeeps seen waiting, men stood around smoking and chatting. I called Rada, who was due to be awake anyhow, and checked. He had no men here, he was adamant.

  Sneaking to within 200yards, we spread left and right in pairs, fresh magazines in, and I timed it over the radio, six men killed – the bored jeep drivers.

  ‘Them jeeps is worth a few quid…’ Rizzo hinted.

  After a quiet discussion, we moved down and searched the area, searched the jeeps, and mounted up five of those jeeps. I led them up the slope, the going easy enough, and fifteen minutes of rough track brought us to the drop-off point.

  Window down, I transmitted, ‘Monster, you hear me?’

  ‘Yeah, go ahead.’

  ‘We nicked the jeeps, six of them, where you saw them before, don’t shoot.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  I turned off the track, but the going was easy enough, a bump created whenever a tyre hit a bush - following by a scraping sound, and four hundred yards of being shaken about led to bodies in my headlights. ‘Jump down, police up the bodies, double tap.’

  I opened my door and eased out, aiming at the bodies as men ran forwards double-tapping. Rizzo came back with two sat phones, tossed onto the passenger seat, four rifles dumped in the back, and a fist full of dollars. He grinned as he waved them at me.

  Mounted up, we drove up the gentle slope, north past Monster – a gully to avoid, animal eyes caught in our headlights.

  ‘Nicholson, you see us?’

  ‘See you? You’re two hundred yards away in loud jeeps on full beam!’

  ‘Just checking you’re awake. We’ll highlight the area north, you shoot at movement. Men in jeeps, drive parallel to me.’

  They moved up and alongside as I trundled slowly north, soon a wide area lit up – the size of a football pitch, and soon two bodies seen. White men.

  ‘What the fuck?’ I let out.

  I jumped down and grabbed my rifle, aiming at the men as I closed in. Knelt next to the first man I checked for a pulse, noticing the large hole in his chest – as well as the predictable absence of a heartbeat. Tapping his pockets, I found a US driver’s licence.