Wilco- Lone Wolf 17

by Geoff Wolak

  At 11pm I was sat on the wall with Sasha and Swan, wrapped up warm, jackets on, t-shirts worn underneath shirts, gloves on. At night the temperature plummeted, and I wondered how the migrants slept on hillsides in these temperatures. From what I had seen so far, those migrants had little more than t-shirts on, a blanket held around themselves for warmth. Many were seen to be in open-toe sandals.

  A flare burst into life and arced over, fired from the west hide, two shots sounding out.

  ‘Report the shooting.’

  ‘It’s Stretch, and we got two dickers. Rest of our lads are asleep.’

  I smiled. ‘Roger that. And do some press-ups if you’re cold.’

  At midnight a flare arced out from Nicholson’s position, followed by two rounds fired.

  ‘Report the shooting.’

  ‘It’s Tomo, and we got two, two that Stretch missed.’

  ‘Bollocks!’ came from Stretch.

  I faced Sasha’s dark outline. ‘They’re still sending men, like some rite of passage test of manliness for the hitmen.’

  ‘The men are not returning, so … maybe the volunteers don’t know about the men who went before.’

  ‘You can be damn sure of that, my friend.’

  The blast had me diving down, soon rolling off the walkway and landing on my feet as shouts came from several directions. A jeep had blown, parked on the right inside the main gate, windows blown out in a building, that jeep now ablaze.

  I met Rada near it as the fire roared and crackled. He began, ‘A bomb under the jeep.’

  ‘Search them all, and the buildings!’

  I had those Russians still inside search the huts, and they did so with some trepidation. I used a torch with Sasha to check behind the huts and under them, a thorough search.

  My phone trilled. ‘It’s Nicholson, we heard a thud, couldn’t get you on the radio.’

  ‘Someone put a bomb under a jeep.’

  ‘That’s naughty. Are the spics awake and on the job?’

  ‘They are now I think.’

  Rocko led in his patrol at 2am, one wounded man, a scrape that would need work, the young man driven off – the jeeps checked again before they received allotted drivers. He reported, ‘Patrol of about twelve men, but not switched on, we heard them a long way off. I had the boys spread out in pairs, a line on a ridge, and we waited till they came over the ridge – silhouetted, fired from less than twenty yards, all over quickly.’

  ‘And your wounded man?’

  ‘As we were moving back to go around a wounded man fired a burst.’

  ‘Lucky. I would have stayed down for half an hour, so you can teach them the benefits of waiting in the cold wind.’

  ‘We waited fifteen minutes, a few moans from dying men then nothing.’

  ‘Get them cleaned up, fed, weapons cleaned, then they can sleep. And search the hut, we had a bomb under a jeep earlier.’

  He led them to their hut.

  At 11am Carlos drove in, a good look at the burnt-out jeep and the damaged building before he came and sat with me, tables arranged outside by our chef. ‘Lobos men, no doubt,’ he noted.

  ‘They are getting closer.’

  ‘I have issued instructions for all jeeps to be searched ten times a day, but the men were wary before.’

  ‘An insider?’

  ‘I would hope not, but … good money buys good help.’

  ‘We killed another twenty last night, yet they keep coming.’

  ‘They do not dare lose face, people would know, so there is only one way to deal with you … and that is to fight to the last.’

  ‘They will run out of men before we run out of bullets,’ I pointed out.

  He nodded. ‘You keep my men busy moving bodies. But the towns here have each a good funeral home service – as you can imagine.’

  I smiled. ‘Yes, a growing trade, and a steady trade in these parts. Does it cost you much?’

  ‘We hand over bodies and rifles, so they take watches, gold, and sell the weapons. That pays for the bodies to be buried or burnt; the dead pay their own funerals here.’

  ‘And how is your … reputation in these parts?’

  ‘It is growing, yes, people think the Lobos are weak, but they also know you are here and they talk of nothing else. It has reached the government in Mexico City, who debate it.’

  ‘Will they send the Army after me?’ I teased.

  ‘If they do you slip across the border quickly I think. But, if you are killing Lobos, I think they wait a while. Lobos killed a government minister, raped his wife and daughter and set them alight.’

  My phone trilled. ‘Excuse me.’

  ‘It’s me,’ came Tomsk in Russian.

  ‘Hey Boss.’

  ‘I had an emissary of the Lobos come to see me.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He threatened me to my face, in front of people. So I hung him.’

  ‘They do lack negotiating skills.’

  ‘You fuck these idiots good for me, ask for what you need. I told people in my club that I would destroy Lobos, so now I have to make good on that.’

  ‘They send twenty men a night, and we bury them. CIA are intercepting their phones where they can, so I got warnings as well.’

  ‘Ah, good. But, you know, work faster eh.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do. Boss.’

  Phone away, I told Carlos, ‘Lobos threatened to kill Tomsk, so he has declared war.’

  Carlos gave a big shrug. ‘They will not talk, only way is to kill them. Now that Lobos have made threats they must fight to the end or lose face. Stupid, all balls and no brains – as my son says.’ He pointed at some of the young soldiers. ‘How are they doing?’

  ‘They learn quickly, keen and loyal – so far, and now they get experience of military patrols at night, so they will mature quickly.’

  ‘We think we found the man who placed the bomb, we are watching him, listening in to calls.’

  ‘You can get helicopters for me?’

  He shrugged. ‘We can get anything. Money talks here.’

  ‘Some Hueys, with pilots, and a transport plane with a loading ramp at the rear, a Skyvan would do.’

  ‘Skyvan, I have seen one, yes, good for cargo, they land in ten metres. I ask.’

  ‘And more RPG heads.’

  ‘Not so easy to find, but they can be bought.’

  ‘I’ll have Tomsk send more, don’t worry. He has thousands of them.’

  ‘You already have many…’ he puzzled.

  ‘I have a job in mind. But tell me about the town that Lobos run?’

  ‘Like my town, they are in every business as a partner, every shop.’

  ‘Can you get me a map of that town?’

  ‘I have some, somewhere, I find them.’

  With Carlo gone, Rada found me a map, and I sat studying it with Sasha, Rocko and Rizzo joining me as they paused their training of the young men.

  I tapped the map. ‘Cegali. Home to the Lobos cartel, the men we kill being sent by them. They just threatened to kill Tomsk, so … it’s war. I’ve asked for transport planes, Hueys, more RPG heads.’

  ‘Take it to them,’ Rizzo approved.

  ‘What we can be sure about … is that if we piss them off they must react to save face, and that means throwing a lot of men our way in an open formation in the hills.’

  ‘Or they hire some good help,’ Rocko cautioned.

  ‘Yes, they could hire soldiers, Federales, American mercenaries. A good sniper could sneak up on us here.’

  Rizzo noted, ‘He’d have sore bollocks afterwards, that dirt has small rocks everywhere. And there’s fuck all cover for him.’

  ‘Plant the trip flares today, fifty yards beyond the barbed wire, create a kill zone, and make sure everyone knows where the flares are. We’ll also have to put men south soon. Carlos has men there, but those men guard the road, not the dark hillsides. We could get a mass attack here.’

  ‘Be like the Alamo then,’ Rizzo approved.
>
  ‘Uh, Rizzo, everyone at the Alamo died.’

  Sasha laughed at him.

  ‘They did?’ he puzzled. ‘Not in the movie I saw.’

  ‘That was not the Alamo, trust me. Anyhow, break out the RPGs and teach the young lads, make some noise. Then the box-fed, we can use the box-fed as area suppression weapons if we get a lot of men coming at us here.’

  An hour later my phone trilled, Miller. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘We fooled the helicopter, but they still send men. And Lobos threatened to kill Tomsk, so it’s all-out war now.’

  ‘Lobos want to kill Tomsk? That … would alter a playing field, so we can’t allow that, Tomsk is damned useful.’

  ‘Keep the intercepts coming, but I’ll take the fight to them soon.’

  ‘I’ll see if I can get you some assets, we don’t want Lobos growing or spreading more than they have done. I discussed your friend Carlos up the line and we see sense in having Tomsk and Carlos in place, and the L.A. arrests have pleased many in the corridors of power – we grabbed the money.’

  ‘Try and get me intel on the Lobos top men, and where they live.’

  ‘They each have several houses and move around, just in case the Federales come for them.’

  ‘Surely they would be tipped off?’

  ‘Yes, but what the Mexican Government sometimes does is to put together a large force, no target indicated till ten minutes before the raid.’

  ‘Ah, they are indeed cautious and prudent.’

  ‘Moving around is a way of life for drug lords, but not Tomsk. I hear his new villa is nice.’

  ‘Very nice indeed, tennis courts, golf course, pool.’

  ‘He’s not suffering any, is he. I’ll get back to you, need to discuss the war up the line.’

  At sundown, the Deputy Chief called. ‘We got intel that Lobos will move on Carlos, you pissed them off. Also got signals intel that they want to send men to kill Tomsk. Those above me are taking an interest because it’s close to home, and they don’t want Lobos winning here.’

  ‘I’ll thin them out, don’t worry.’

  ‘I have some men on the way, all Hispanic, some toys to play with.’

  ‘Make sure they’re expected, or they’ll get a warm welcome.’

  ‘You’ll get notified, yes. Listen, before my next meeting, give me a rundown on Carlos.’

  ‘Carlos The Kitten, not The Jackal. His mum lives with him, and he loves her very much. His son, Miguel, was educated in the States, and has introduced American work practices, forms filled in, team meetings, management structures. He tells his father – jaw, jaw not war, war.’

  ‘Churchill, eh. So the kid is a good influence.’

  ‘Carlos will deal with you, you could open a back channel through me, and he’ll hand you Lobos men stateside – some good newspaper inches.’

  ‘Better the devil you know,’ he stated. ‘OK, good, I’ll have something to say at the next meeting.’

  After dark I led a large patrol east, six young soldiers along, Rizzo, Sasha, and Sasha’s team. We moved cautiously for the first mile, no one stumbled across, but then picked up the pace on the dirt track down to the road. Across the road I found a good track, little cover around for someone to ambush us from, tabbing on at a good pace east.

  After three hours we were further east than previous patrols had reached, halting for some food, a piss taken, a brew enjoyed in an old abandoned farmhouse. Turning south towards distant lights, we undulated over gentle hills, a few nasty gullies avoided, an hour used up to get position above a main tarmac road.

  The road cut through a small ridge, an obvious choke point, and we benefitted from low stone walls and high shrubs to hide behind as I sent two of Sasha’s boys east down the road 500yards, radio contact maintained. They hid, and they waited. We hid, and we aimed down.

  Half an hour later a convoy was spotted, and whilst blinded by the headlights Sasha’s men managed to identify armed men in the convoy – and that they were not Federales.

  As the convoy reached us I called the start, my first shot hitting the driver of the first jeep, which swerved and rolled, then somersaulted for us, dirt thrown up as cracks sounded out. I aimed at the tail end and fired quickly at windscreens, or at men in the back.

  A few men managed to get off their jeeps, all spun and down, hit many times over, and it was soon all over. I waited, and we aimed down as the wheels of an upside-down jeep spun, one jeep burning.

  ‘OK, get down there, clear the road, nudge the jeeps off the road, get sat phones, leave weapons – but throw the weapons in the scrub. And look at bodies, tattoos on chests.’

  I moved to the edge of the cut and peered both ways as the lads scrambled down, the road quiet for now. Bodies were dragged out and dumped off the road, rifles thrown into the dirt, jeeps soon being used as battering rams to nudge the burning jeep off the road.

  I transmitted, ‘Park the jeeps well off the road, don’t burn them but shoot out tyres and engines. And fast!’

  Shots rang out as engine grills were peppered, tyres bursting, the road soon clear, the last body dragged away as headlights registered. Smoke still issued from the burning jeep, but it was not well alight.

  ‘Get to cover, get back up here!’

  A lone jeep drove past without slowing, heading east. I had to stop and wonder how it was possible to lead a normal life in a place like this, to take the kids to MacDonalds for a treat.

  The teams re-formed, back up with me, water sipped. Eyes again focused on the distant road horizon.

  Rizzo noted, ‘Tattoos on some chests, but none on the necks like you said they might have.’

  ‘No lieutenants,’ I told him.

  My phone trilled. ‘It’s Carlos, can you talk?’

  ‘Yes, ten miles east at a road, a convoy shot up.’

  ‘One of my contacts, close to the Lobos, he will assist them to get a caravan of migrants over the border near here, but ten of the men are Lobos, and armed, if you can use that information with the Americans.’

  ‘Carlos, your son is having a good affect on you – you are becoming a pragmatist.’

  ‘Don’t start that, I get that from him and his mother!’

  Smiling, I said, ‘I’ll use the information, yes, and ask for favours. When will they cross?’

  ‘Tomorrow night, close to where you crossed.’

  I stepped away from the road, and from the teams, and called Langley. ‘Emergency report from Major Wilco, British SAS, now undercover south of the border, report for the duty officer and Deputy Chief. A number of Lobos cartel men will cross the border tomorrow night, twenty, all armed, and they will kill border patrol agents and police to … teach the White House a lesson,’ I lied.

  ‘Teach us a lesson? Teach us a fucking lesson!’

  ‘Revenge for the money you grabbed in Los Angeles. Pass it up the line quickly, Wilco out.’

  Back with the teams I was grinning unseen. Single cars passed, a few trucks, forty cold minutes to the arrival of a second late night jeep convoy, this one made up of eight jeeps and two army-style trucks.

  ‘Standby to fire, hit drivers first, then wheels and engines. Sasha and team, aim into the backs of the trucks. Standby. Check magazines, use fresh ones.’ I swapped my own, still about eight rounds in it. ‘Outpost men, do you see weapons?’

  ‘Outpost team here. Standby … yes, armed men in the backs of jeeps, black balaclava facemasks.’

  ‘Double check as they pass that they are not Federales, call it out.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  I knelt and took aim – something scurrying away through the bushes, the lead jeep soon passing our outpost men, no radio contact update, the seconds passing, so I fired at the lead driver, a racket erupting to my left.

  Jeeps slowed or swerved, and I was soon hitting a truck windscreen, my two outpost men firing into the backs of the trucks as a truck slammed a jeep off the road, that truck nosing into a ditch, its driver and passenger thrown through the s
hattered windscreen.

  A few men got out the jeeps and ran, all cut down and spun, finished off as they crawled.

  ‘Move down, double tap, I want to know what’s in the back of those trucks.’

  As the men moved down I checked the road west, and carefully studied the hill behind us for movement.

  ‘Petrov,’ came Rizzo’s voice. ‘Trucks are full of munitions, mortars, M60, ammo, the works.’

  ‘Does that second truck still work?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Nick the good stuff and get it in that truck, then blow the damaged truck, set it alight. Work fast.’

  Five minutes later a car appeared west, but it looked like a civvy. I told the gang to keep working, and I aimed at the car, but it simply drove by, soon just red tail lights.

  The truck that was nose down burst into flames ten minutes later, Rizzo driving the second truck around it.

  I transmitted, ‘Find a jeep that works, everyone else on the truck, we are leaving! Outpost men, run in now!’

  I skidded down the slope kicking up loose rocks, soon to the road and checking both ways as men mounted the rear of the truck, a jeep made ready, four men in the back, Sasha driving, someone I could not see left seat to him.

  I clambered up into the truck and encouraged Rizzo on. Scraping the gears, he pulled off as I leant out the window and looked back, no one seen running after us, no lads left behind.

  I transmitted, ‘Sasha’s team, sound off.’

  They were all accounted for.

  ‘Any wounds?’

  None were reported.

  ‘What if we meet someone head on?’ Rizzo asked.

  ‘We ram them, or shoot them – we sure as hell won’t blag them.’

  Twenty minutes of quiet road brought us to the turn off for the compound, and after a mile up the gentle slope we met the first roadblock, Carlos’s men wary, a young soldier explaining us – known to the man stopping us.

  A mile on and again we were stopped, four men looking in the rear of the truck before we were let on, and at the compound we met another four men, but they had been alerted already and waved us in.