Wilco- Lone Wolf 2

by Geoff Wolak

‘No,’ Bob pleaded, his eyes about to pop out.

  ‘Wilco,’ the Major called after a moment and I let Bob go.

  The Major said, ‘Be a love and contact your man for us, will you, then get back to us. And ... soon.’

  Bob walked sideways out, snarled at by Rizzo.

  We took it easy that day, I read intel reports, and Bob Staines returned that evening, the Major calling me in.

  ‘Well,’ the Major asked him.

  ‘Our man has ... disappeared,’ Bob nervously admitted, and he seemed ashamed.

  ‘Maybe,’ the Major began, ‘he’s on the Coast del Sol, with a wad of cash in his pocket.’

  ‘He may have been caught, or interrogated,’ Bob suggested.

  ‘What did he know?’ I asked Bob.

  ‘That the farm was of interest, and that there had been and would be an OP.’

  ‘And that OP ... means SAS,’ I said.

  ‘Or 14 Intel,’ Bob quickly added.

  I closed in on Bob. ‘If I had walked another fifty yards, me and my lads would have been killed. That happens ... when agencies like yours make mistakes.’

  ‘I ... can only apologise, and we’ll find him, and find out what happened.’

  ‘Do so,’ the Major threatened. ‘I could have been reading about three of my men killed, and south of the border, a hell of a mess.’

  With little to do, and getting more facemasks from Madge - all of the lads now wanting them, I asked about trousers and jackets.

  ‘Well, I can sew any darn thing. What you after, love?’

  ‘Got a paper and pen?’ She got ready, and fetched for me a standard pair of combat trousers. ‘And we’re going to need plenty of soft leather, but waterproof. Next, combat jacket...’

  The next day the Colonel flew in, and asked to see me. We sat in a corner of the Major’s office.

  ‘You’ve been doing well, but I suspected you would,’ he said with a warm smile. ‘And yes, you have been creating paper work for me. Still, five IRA gunmen killed, one wounded, then two wounded and one killed, now ... the latest job. Be no gunmen left soon.’

  ‘I could do more, sir, but ... I’d have to stretch the rules a little.’

  ‘Rules can be stretched. What did you have in mind?’

  ‘I’d ... like to go out by myself.’

  He lifted his eyebrows. ‘On patrol?’

  ‘Yes, sir. That way I can be stealthy, I can move at speed, and I can go long periods without sleep.’

  ‘Do ... the others slow you down?’

  ‘Not on the jobs we’ve done, but I could do more.’

  ‘If you’re by yourself and wounded...?’

  ‘If I’m with a patrol and wounded I’d probably bleed out just the same, but the point is ... if I’m sneaking around or hidden I won’t get wounded, sir.’

  ‘It has been done, in many countries, just not common here,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll have a word with the major; Swifty works by himself a great deal. You get along?’

  ‘Two professionals, no egos.’

  He smiled. ‘And Rizzo?’

  ‘We get on well now, and he treats me like an equal, none of this “I’m senior” rubbish.’

  He smiled and nodded. ‘The Garda are ... putting two and two together, but so far they are short on evidence. But ... they could see that the gunmen never fired any rounds, and that just three weapons were used, and survivors are describing what happened. They’re reporting English accents.’

  ‘Just the IRA blame game. They’d need solid evidence.’

  ‘We’ve denied everything, and there are no records, but the head of the Army asked me directly if we were involved, so ... I’ll be in trouble if it gets out. Still, we’ve kicked up a fuss, and a high body count, so the power brokers are very happy. And back at base they do nothing but gossip about you and your exploits.’

  ‘That’s not a good thing, sir, be all around Hereford town soon.’

  Two days later, and Madge had rustled up my specifications, so I had a good look at the new kit. She had done a good job, and I could hardly tell the difference. I took them back, put them on, grabbed Rizzo and cornered the Major.

  ‘OK, I am now wearing ... custom clothing.’

  ‘Looks just the same,’ the Major noted.

  ‘Close in.’ I placed a boot on a chair. ‘Test the knee pad.’

  They did.

  ‘What is it?’ Rizzo asked.

  ‘Double leather, waterproof, and soft on your knees when you go down in a hurry to fire. Crotch.’

  ‘What?’ the Major asked.

  ‘I won’t ask you to feel it, but it has leather both sides, so no rubbing your nuts in a lying position.’ I turned around. ‘Arse cheek has leather, so that I can sit on a cold rock and not whinge.’ I turned back and held up my arms. ‘Elbows, have a feel.’

  ‘Same as the knees,’ Rizzo noted.

  ‘I can get down in rocks and not bust myself up, getting a comfy position. Left forearm.’

  ‘It’s padded,’ the Major noted.

  ‘I can push against something hard and get a good fire position. Shoulders.’

  ‘Padded again,’ Rizzo noted. ‘Right across them.’

  ‘Waterproof, and great for carrying heavy loads. It’s for OP work around here. Warm, comfy, better fire position.’

  ‘No one can see the difference, so try it,’ the Major approved.

  I headed back to Madge and gave her the good news, now asking for a difference to the camouflage patterns, so too on the face mask and gloves. I was aiming to be invisible.

  When the alterations were ready, I dressed in my new kit – people asking if I was going out on patrol – and was there oil on my jacket, and I grabbed Rizzo and the Major, leading them outside, across the parade ground and to a large bush. I put on my mask and gloves, then new over-boots that were camouflaged. And I stood tight against the bush.

  ‘Back up a bit,’ I told them, and they stepped back. ‘How’d I look?’

  ‘Like a bush,’ the Major said.

  The WO2 from the Borderers walk past, wondering what they were looking at.

  The Major pointed at the bushes. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Sir?’ the WO2 asked, peering at the bush. ‘Something wrong with the wee bush?’

  ‘No, that,’ the Major emphasised.

  ‘That ... what, sir?’

  ‘That man stood there.’

  ‘What man where, sir?’

  ‘Are you blind, man?’ the Major shouted. ‘Him!’

  The WO2 walked forwards, halving the distance, and I stepped out. ‘Fook me.’ I took off the face mask. ‘Wilco, might have known. Crafty camouflage, aye.’

  Smiling, we walked back in. ‘I altered the pattern to have large diagonal lines, sir, so that an arm does not look like an arm, a leg not like a leg, a head not like a head. I’ll create a cover for a weapon next.’

  Sitting in the Intel Section late that night, I could hear the nice lady captain on the phone, and I could see the body language; it was not her husband on the other end, that was for sure. That set me to thinking about impropriety amongst married officers, but I cared little.

  The following evening, and quite bored, I had an idea, and I called Bob Staines.

  ‘Wilco?’

  ‘Any news on your man?’

  ‘Found dead, but there’s no sign of torture, and it looks like he was hit from some distance.’

  ‘So, maybe he wasn’t selling us out after all.’

  ‘We don’t think so, and we’re making every effort to prove that.’

  ‘You could improve our working relation with a favour.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Can you tap the phones here as Bessbrook, Intel and Signals section?’

  ‘Easy enough, and because it’s military we don’t need a court order.’

  ‘Well do so, and I’m going to play a little game. I’m going to drop a different piece of information with different people here, and see where the gossip goes. If it reaches som
eone outside the wire, we may have an accidental leak.’

  ‘I’ll organise it straight away.’

  When Bob Staines turned up a few days later he took me outside, and confirmed something that I would have never believed, but it had been my idea to check. The following Monday morning he was back, and I was stunned into silence for a long time, and I had to sit down with a cuppa.

  An hour later, and after walking around the cold damp parade ground for a while to clear my head, I call Colonel Richards.

  ‘Wilco? Everything OK?’

  ‘No, sir, things are ... dire.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Not over the phone, sir. Can you get here for 7pm?’

  There was a long pause. ‘How ... dire?’

  ‘Will affect your career, dire.’

  A could hear a sigh. ‘I’ll try and get there, move things around. Does the Major know?’

  ‘No, sir, and he can’t know yet, keep him out of it as long as possible. Trust me.’

  ‘Now I am worried.’

  I found the Major and asked if he could arrange a meeting for 7pm, certain people invited, the Colonel on his way.

  He glanced up at me. ‘There a problem? You look ... concerned, or tired.’

  ‘There’s a very serious problem, but I’m ... not allowed to say anything yet. Trust me, sir, arrange the meeting, no questions asked.’

  ‘You going to embarrass someone?’

  ‘There’ll be no laughing around here for a while,’ I told him with a cold stare, and now he looked worried, very worried.

  He glanced at me a few times during the day, nothing said, but he confirmed later that the meeting was on, and all would be in attendance.

  Before the meeting, I grabbed Rizzo for a private briefing, and stunned him. He was sworn to secrecy, and told to bring his pistol to the meeting. I saw the Colonel land, two troopers for protection armed with MP5s, and he ran through the rain to the side entrance.

  Entering the Major’s office, I informed him that the Colonel had just landed and was coming up, the Major eying Rizzo’s pistol. Already in the room were Captain Harris, the nice lady captain, and a Captain Peter Bromley from 14 Intel. I had asked Tyler not to ask questions about the meeting.

  With the Colonel entering, and looking worried, he took in the faces more than studying me, and sat after waving people down. After a moment, he said, ‘Over to you, Wilco.’

  I opened the door, and when I returned Bob Staines walked in, along with a military police captain and two sergeants, pistols on hips. They stood in a line near the door as I moved around and sat, Rizzo stood behind me with his pistol in his belt.

  With no energy in my voice, I said, ‘Right, we’re all here, so ... we can begin.’ I took a moment, a look exchanged with a concerned Colonel Richards. ‘Some weeks ago ... one of our operations was compromised, and the IRA were sat waiting. Fortunately, we spotted them and left the area, no one was harmed on our side. I blamed the agent placed by Bob Staines here, from Mi6, since he was the only one to know, the only outsider to know about that operation and ... a day later that man disappeared, so even Bob Staines believed his man to be the leak.

  ‘A few days later the man was found dead, no sign of torture, and that he had been shot from perhaps a hundred yards away. That being the case, Mi6 were keen to prove his innocence – overly keen, and ... by accident, or maybe because I’m suspicious by nature and I was bored, I provided that way.

  ‘With little to do, I made up a fictitious patrol, in fact four such stories, and gave them to various people in the Intel Section, which included Captain Harris and Captain Karen Moore here.

  The nice lady captain was now looking very concerned.

  ‘At the same time I cooperated with Bob Staines and he tapped a number of outgoing phones here, which - I gather - he is allowed to do.’

  ‘You tapped my line?’ Captain Harris asked me, more as a plea to a friend than an angry senior officer.

  ‘I suggest that you ... just sit quietly, sir.’ I took a moment. ‘So, phones were tapped last week. What those listening in discovered early on ... was that Captain Karen Moore here ... had a lover, despite being married, and that she was in an undeclared relationship with Captain Bromley of 14 Intel -’

  He stood, ‘That’s none of your damn concern -’

  I moved quickly and broke his nose, knocking him into his seat, and when Karen Moore stood I back-fisted her back into her seat, Rizzo cocking his weapon. Captain Harris had stood, but I barked at him to sit back down, people focused on Rizzo’s pistol.

  I took a moment, and sat back down, the lovers now bleeding, Captain Moore whimpering, the MPs making no move to intervene. ‘So, as I was saying, Mi6 uncovered the illicit affair, not that I gave a shit, and don’t give a shit what they do behind the bike shed.

  ‘But ... but what the operators listening in discovered was that Karen here liked to blab, and blab about SAS operations in general – and me in particular. What they also noted ... was that her lover ... asked direct questions about SAS operations in general – and me in particular.

  ‘But ... but Mi6 liked the idea that they were dirty, and so they dug further.’ I stared back at the Colonel, and he appeared very tired suddenly. ‘They dug into the background of both captains here, and they itemised all of their calls over the past year, home and work, payphone near home and work, payphone at favourite restaurants, and their clever people and their clever computers cross-matched names and dates and times and places. They also checked finances, not least because Captain Bromley was understood to have won some money on the lottery.

  ‘What they found ... after much digging and some fast footwork ... was that for the past few years or so ... Captain Peter Bromley has been selling classified material to the IRA.’

  The silence was deafening, the faces stunned, the Colonel lowering his head.

  Captain Karen Moore turned her head to her lover. ‘Peter?’ She got response, and he would not make eye contact. ‘Peter?’ she called again, getting louder. ‘Peter! Tell them it’s not true!’

  He made no effort to lift his eyes off the floor, a hand to his bloody nose.

  Captain Harris lifted up, and focused on his friend. ‘Peter?’ he called, getting no response. He closed in. ‘Look at me!’ he shouted, but Peter kept his eyes on the floor.

  When it looked like Harris was about to go for Bromley I rushed in and pushed him back. ‘Don’t harm your career, sir. Sit down.’ I forced him down. I turned to the MP Captain and nodded.

  He pulled out his cuffs and walked over. ‘Captain Peter Bromley, you are hereby under arrest for espionage, for the sale of classified material, for profiting from a relationship with a known terrorist organisation, and the theft of government documents.’

  The cuffs clicked shut, a horrible sound, and Bromley was dragged to his feet and handed to an MP Sergeant.

  The captained turn to Karen Moore. ‘Captain Karen Moore, you are herby under arrest on suspicion of complicity in espionage, of passing over classified material to an unauthorised person, and gross negligence according to the Security Of Materials And Files Act.’ The cuffs clicked shut, and she broke down crying, a horrible noise made, and an observer might have thought she had been stabbed. She was led out first, wailing.

  The Colonel stood, and charged towards Bromley. ‘I’ll see you get life in prison!’ he roared. ‘You’ll never see your kids again, never!’

  When it looked like the Colonel might hit Bromley, I grabbed the Colonel from behind and just about lifted him and spun him. ‘Don’t, sir, think of your career.’ I faced the MP Captain. ‘Get that piece of shit out of here.’

  They led him out, a stunned Captain Harris following, and the Colonel all but collapsed into his chair, the Major looking stunned at the turn of events.

  I closed the door, and sat as Bob Staines finally sat. I focused on Bob. ‘On behalf of myself, and those that were in danger, I apologise for blaming your guy – as well as for strangling you
of course.’

  ‘You had me convinced, and when he disappeared ... I was convinced it was him.’

  The Colonel lifted his head towards Bob. ‘We ... apologise for jumping to conclusions about your man.’

  ‘I hope that we can move forwards ... together,’ Bob tentatively suggested.

  ‘I hope so too,’ the Colonel said in a weak voice.

  I lifted my head. ‘Riz, kettle.’ I faced Bob. ‘We’ll be in touch.’

  Bob stood, a final look at the Colonel, and out he went.

  ‘Rizzo,’ I called. ‘Outside the door, please, no visitors.’

  He nodded and stepped out, shutting the door.

  ‘Major, Brandy,’ I said.

  ‘What? Oh yes.’ He stood and grabbed his Brandy from a cabinet, glasses placed down. He poured one for the Colonel and one for himself, and I helped the Colonel lift his hand.

  ‘It will help, sir.’ I faced the Major. ‘There’s something you don’t know, at least I think you don’t know, in that ... Captain Bromley is married to the CO’s niece.’

  The Major’s eye bulged. ‘He’s what?’ came out in a whisper.

  The Colonel lifted his head. ‘Married to my niece, yes,’ the colonel confirmed, barely above a whisper.

  ‘I wanted to warn you before, sir, and ... I wanted to deal with him quietly when I found out, but Bob Staines threatened to throw me in the clink. So I had to wait.’

  ‘The publicity will be bad, sir,’ the Major noted. ‘Very bad.’

  ‘Do you think they will force you out, sir?’ I quietly asked.

  He lifted his face and stared out of focus. ‘I discussed things with him at family functions. If they can prove that ... I’ll be gone.’

  ‘If ... they can prove that,’ I said. ‘Sir, earlier you were angry, and rightly so, but in your early career you were not angry enough. Anger is a manifestation of the truth trying to get out, so let the truth out, sir, and fight back at them. And if they bin you, then that’s their loss, and there are other things you can be doing ... besides boring old staff college. Besides...’ They focused on me, and I started making three mugs of tea. ‘Bob Staines will work hard to alter evidence and help you.’

  ‘In return for?’ the Colonel asked.