by Geoff Wolak
‘They also put the bomb on the bus that killed the boy from Oman, using Mi5 agents loyal to the old boy network in London.’
‘And Diana?’
‘I would guess that the impetus might have come from the old boy network here, certainly the foreigners had no care about Diana’s bad publicity.’ I heaved a breath. ‘A few weeks ago, French Intel fed a man a drug, then chased him. The drug makes people more paranoid, they drive fast.’
‘My god.’
‘French Intel now worry about what they did, since it could have been seen as a dry run for Diana. Diana’s driver that night was on the books at Mi6, reporting back, and … I guess you got those reports.’
She glanced at me but said nothing.
‘That driver met with an Mi6 agent an hour before he drove Diana to her death, a drug used. That agent was then killed the next day, an apparent accident. Ma’am, when I arrived in Paris today they tried to kill me, I killed eleven French officers.’
She shot me a worried look.
‘Be all over the news later. Our fear now is blackmail, since we all fear the public getting the detail. I did, today, as a personal favour, ask the Director of the DGSE to … look at the blood tox report of the driver.’
Again she glanced at me as we walked around the helo in a wide arc.
I continued, ‘He will do his best, and he will make our Mi6 man in Paris look dirty, the man seen to be answering to others, not London – which is true anyhow. My reason for being here, rather than a simple phone call, was because I believed you should know just how much danger the country faces, and your family faces, how great the risk of blackmail is. And to ask you to immediately sever ties with the bank, withdrawing your investments before…’
‘Before what?’
‘Before we strike back at the bank, or before it’s leaked to the press what they get up to in Africa.’
We walked on. ‘Some of my generals talk of you as if you walk on water and can do anything.’ She stopped to face me. ‘Is there a solution to this, Major?’
‘There is, Ma’am, and we’re working on it.’
‘And who knows about this?’
‘Few, Ma’am, very few, we’ll keep it that way.’
‘They told me that you should not be considered for any more medals.’ She waited.
I took in the neatly cropped bushes. ‘I’ve cleaned up messes for London, done things abroad that no commissioned officer should do. If that got out, then … well, it would not be seemly for a decorated officer to be arrested and … hung.’
‘But you did it for your nation…’
‘The police and the courts will not see it that way, Ma’am.’
‘I see.’ We walked on. ‘Are you … hopeful of a solution?’
‘Always hopeful, and I have a good idea about how to … deal with the problem.’
‘Do you need additional resources, Major?’
‘No, Ma’am, I need to keep this quiet. Fortunately I have friends in low places, many of them, and they’ll help.’
‘Who, in the city, is involved?’
‘Hard to say. Many rich men have money invested, some are on the board, but would they bring down a London building – very unlikely. Would they whisper what a danger Diana was to the monarchy, possibly. I am collecting evidence and names, but … I need a solution that does not discredit anyone in the city; that would be bad for business, bad for the nation.’
‘Are those your words, or the Prime Ministers?’
‘Mine, Ma’am. I have not informed him yet.’
She glanced at me as we walked. ‘I feel powerless.’
‘When parents argue, which side does the child take?’
She nodded. ‘Indeed, which side? If you convict these men it will be bad all around, yet left alone they may grow in confidence and run amok, as they have done. I shall have our investments withdrawn, but I think they take time to unravel.’
‘There’s often a thirty day or ninety day clause, yes.’
‘If there’s something you need, I have resources - and the ear of many.’
‘I think it best if my visit here be played down, not admitted to, and that I don’t contact you again about this matter.’
‘A man close to death gains wisdom fast. My father used to say that, of men in the war. I think it may be true in some cases.’
I nodded. ‘When a man is not weighed down by fear and worry, he can function better.’
She stopped. ‘Good luck, Major, if we don’t meet again. Will they … try and silence you?’
I smiled. ‘No more than once a day, Ma’am.’
‘You’re certainly not weighed down by fear, Major. Good luck.’
‘May I be so bold as to suggest, Ma’am, that you not mention the bank, or … any of this.’
‘That would seem like the most prudent course of action, yes.’
I strode to the helo and clambered in as they started the engine.
Headsets on, they asked, ‘All OK?’
‘We live in hope that right will prevail.’
‘The wrong shall fail, the right prevail. With peace on earth, good will to men,’ the pilot quoted. ‘And to those who seek havoc, we hope Major Wilco and his boys will blow their fucking heads off.’
‘Amen,’ the co-pilot finished.
‘I’m the son on a church minister,’ the pilot told me as we started to vibrate.
Smiling, I said, ‘Good men sleep well at night because me and my boys patrol the borders.’
‘I think you hijacked that quote a little, Major, but we won’t be reporting you for it.’
Back at the plane the Group Captain was waiting. ‘Did she receive you?’
‘Yes, all sorted for now, and no – I won’t be explaining it.’
‘I see. Northolt? We’re refuelled.’
‘Northolt would be fine, sir.’
My phone trilled, so I halted. ‘It’s David, and you’re all over the news around Europe as having shot dead ten French police officers and wounded a dozen more, civilians hit in the cross fire, killed and wounded.’
My heart stopped, my face flushing. ‘They … named me? The French named me?’
‘Yes, Prime Minister has been on.’
‘If … if I was guilty as they suggested, then why did the head of their fucking DGSE drive me to the airport and let me go, eh?’ I argued.
‘He’s been suspended, high level investigation. And Wilco, there are witnesses, after a fashion, some shown on French TV. They’re trying to frame you, and doing a damn good job of it.’
I closed my eyes for a moment. ‘Then the PM should shout a little, or they may just succeed in framing me. Ask the Prime Minister if he wants to see me on the witness stand, here or in Paris.’
‘None of us want that.’
‘I’ll be in London in a few hours, get the kettle on.’ Stood there, I had to wonder if they had won and I had lost. I called Moran and filled him in as the engines whined, spoke to Swifty and Sasha, then called Tomsk.
‘Listen, the bank have framed me, I face charges in France for killing French police officers that tried to kill me.’
‘Will the British Government help you?’ came a worried voice.
‘I … don’t know, this may take a while to sort out. If they get me to France they’ll kill me.’
‘Come here, we protect you.’
‘Nice thought, but I have work to do. Listen, find a man for me in Panama.’ I gave the details. ‘Place that advert, or track all the old French men with diabetes, and fast. He has detail of the Dutch/Belgian bank. Maybe he knows a way to hurt them. Work fast. And if I don’t see you again … you, you take care.’
I called Max, the Group Captain wondering about the delay. ‘It’s Wilco -’
‘You seen Reuters? They say you shot dead French police!’
‘I did, as they tried to kill me. Listen, try and get the detail from the French Press, then look at the convoy route taken, and why the convoy turned left into a side street instead
of right into the road for the DGSE offices. Get them to explain it, a bakery was hit by a police car, people killed. Send a man to talk to witnesses and be a nuisance. Don’t go yourself, they’ll shoot you.’
‘So what happened?’
I sighed heavily, wondered if I was doing the right thing, then detailed the story of the police incident. I finally said, ‘I’m on my way to Northolt, have a man with a camera, the may arrest me as I get off the plane.’
Next called was Bob. ‘You seen the news!’ he began.
‘It was a set-up. Listen, spend some money, and find out who’s pushing the story, bribe some people, get working, this … this could be a problem for me, I could be suspended and out of circulation. If that’s the case then they win.’
‘I have good contacts in Paris, and the media there.’
‘We just need some doubt in the eyes of the French people. And Bob, watch your back, don’t trust French Intel, warn The Banker, go to ground for a while. No calls to or from your French Intel contacts, go off-grid for a while, and … if they get to me, get yourself to Panama.’
‘You could drop off the grid…’
‘That may make me look guilty, but I am tempted, very tempted.’ I took in the modest airfield fence and the fields beyond.
‘While you’re on, I think I can get the body, plan in place,’ Bob offered.
‘Good. Small victories each day.’
I finally boarded, and we set off south as it started to get dark, my stomach turning with rage and frustration. I was also hungry. I faced the Group Captain. ‘It’s … likely I’ll be arrested off the plane.’
He stared at me long and hard. ‘And then?’
‘I’ll be found hanging in a cell, chapter closed.’
‘And those bastards win.’
I stared ahead for a moment. ‘I sometimes wonder what my daughter will do when she grows up. I won’t be around.’
‘Dear god,’ he quietly let out.
We flew down mostly in silence, and I closed my eyes for a while, tired for a change. Or was I just pissed off.
Touching down at Northolt in the dark I saw no flashing blue lights, and as we halted I saw vans, minders stood ready. Down from the plane I noticed David’s assistant and closed in on him.
He began, ‘David thought that you might not trust the transport detail, and kill them all, so he sent me.’
I nodded, a weak smile offered. I called David. ‘What’s the plan here?’ I asked him.
‘Plan is changing quickly, not least because a German media outlet has received evidence that French agents supposedly killed Princes Diana.’
‘What!’
‘It’s fair to say that the French have bigger concerns right now, American outlets now running the story, complete with stills and video, and named agents, car registrations, the works.’
‘Who … who would get that detail and release it?’
‘Someone wanting to wreck France.’
His face came to my mind, as he stood looking condemned at the airport. ‘Or someone wanting to save it from itself,’ I realised. ‘Do me a favour, and check on the suspended DGSE Director, ask to chat to him. I’ll wait, just do it.’
I paced up and down, my features telling the minders to stay the fuck away, even David’s assistant worried.
David was back on. ‘He … he took his own life in his cell.’
‘Cell?’ It hit me like a kick to the chest. ‘What … what the fuck was he doing in a cell? They arrested him?’
I placed a hand on the van to steady myself, a tear coming to my eye, David’s assistant shocked. The Group Captain strode over, but halted when he saw me.
‘You there?’ came David’s voice.
I was choking up. ‘Yes ... yes, I’m here. He … he saved me, tried to save me, even knowing the cost.’
‘He released the detail,’ David realised. ‘My god. Can we … can we contain this?’
‘I … I can’t think straight at the moment. Oh, this detail you sent, I can trust them?’
‘You know Bob’s old assistant, and two of the faces, we thought that was best.’
‘Got no ammo left anyhow. See you soon I guess.’ I waved over men from the van detail, and they puzzled my moist eyes. ‘There’s an excellent chance that this convoy will be fired at, so take an alternate route.’
Worried, deadly worried, the detail mounted up. I stopped and stared at the Group Captain. ‘There are more good people in the country than bad, you have to hang onto that idea, sir.’
‘Some news … on the phone?’
‘A man gave his life to try and save me, his family will never see him again, his kids to grow up without him.’
The guard detail were listening in.
‘He believed in you, so don’t let him down. Fight the bastards.’
I nodded, head down, and boarded the van, David’s assistant sitting next to me.
He quietly stated as we pulled off, ‘You once told me, win the war in the media, no other place to win a war.’
I regarded his dark outline for a few seconds as street lights flickered by. The rear van sped up and took the lead.
He explained, ‘Three shells, one pee, we keep moving them around.’
I nodded, and took out my phone, calling Max. I cleared my throat. ‘It’s Wilco. Can you put a quote on Reuters, and sell it far and wide. Ready?
‘Today I flew to Paris for a secret meeting with the Director of the DGSE, a special flight, just myself, done in secret. On the way to that meeting my French security convoy turned left into a side street instead of proceeding to the DGSE headquarters. My DGSE minders then pulled guns on me as we moved into that side street. I knocked away a pistol and fired my own pistol, killing five men quickly – that is what I am trained to do.
‘As I jumped out the mini-bus a second van tried to run me down, men with MP5 sub machineguns seen. I fired at those men and won the exchange as they fired out at me. The police escort car then tried to run me down and I shot the driver.
‘Later, at the DGSE offices, the Director took me to a side room and expressed his fears about a subversive inner group within the DGSE, men in contact with Mi5 and other European agencies. He knew of solid evidence that they would try and frame French and British agents with the murder of Diana Prince of Wales.
‘I do not believe that any British official wished her dead, rather it was an accident from high speed as she was pursued by the Press. What I do know is that the DGSE Director was being blackmailed, and that he was killed in a police cell whilst being held, he did not take his own life. We had detailed plans on how to fight the conspirators inside the DGSE and Mi5 and we were due to meet again soon.
‘I flew from Paris to Aberdeen and then police helicopter to Balmoral, where I met with the Queen to detail the alleged plot, and to reassure the Queen that the evidence was available, both for the blackmail plot - and the evidence to prove that it was a plot.
‘The evidence sent to the German media was correct and true in what I understand the French agents were doing, and did, a man’s death caused by a high-speed chase, but those agents were not working on orders from the Director of the DGSE, a man who feared for his life these past few weeks.
‘The plot details - to kill a man in France - were real, but not sanctioned or known about. The plot details to kill Diana were for the purposes of blackmail, a simple financial interest devoid of political interest.
‘When I left the Director of the DGSE we shook hands, a sadness in his eyes because he thought he would be killed, that he would never see his family again. He had found odd phone calls made by the men of my security detail, and was quickly building evidence against them whilst I was present in his office.
‘I am disgusted with the French President and his staff, with the French police, and with those French citizens that let the wool be pulled over their eyes. France is not being run by the politicians, it is being run by a secret inner group of spies, not accountable to the people. France is certai
nly not a republic today.
‘If the Director’s murder goes unpunished, then democracy is dead in France and the conspirators win, and secret societies will set the future direction for France, not the voters.
‘Those secret societies rely on the fact the French voters are dumb enough to believe what they are told, that rank and file police look the other way, that money can buy politicians. The revolution was all for nothing, democracy is dead in France.
‘If any public officials in France still believe in freedom and democracy and the rule of law, if they love their country, fly the flags at half-mast for a murdered man, a patriot, a true son of France. Hopefully, the truth will not die with him. End of quote.’
‘Fuck me. Is that true?’
‘More or less, yes. Run with it.’
David’s assistant was smiling. ‘Can’t wait to see tomorrow’s papers, the French ones I mean.’
Through London streets we played at shells and peas, and we made it without incident, a forty minute journey thanks to light traffic. I was led up, getting more odd looks than usual, and into the Director’s office, David and the Director sat with Mister Kitson again.
The Director stood, looking tired today, and stared blankly at me for a moment. ‘We just got the Reuters quote, and … we all agree that it could blindside the truth about Diana.’
I sat. ‘Truth is, you never ordered her death, they did. So the truth can slip out. Has there been an extradition request?’
She sat. ‘Prime Minister told them to investigate properly, then to issue one. In political terms, he told them to fuck off.’
‘Nice that he has my back,’ I quipped.
‘And the Queen..?’ David nudged.
‘Was shocked, and will pull out her investments in them. I assured her that we were working on it, quietly. Now this shit.’
‘And the detail that the German’s got?’ she asked.
I stared at the carpet for a moment, saddened and angered. ‘He sent it, the Director, after I met with him. He … he made a choice, good over evil, to help me; he knew they would try and frame me. What I needed was an even bigger story, a reason for my visit, and he provided it – with his life.
‘Now, with the Diana plot out there, old men in coffee shops will whisper, and the waters will be muddied on my behalf, and some of the citizens will believe me over the French police, believe that if they can plot to kill Diana they can do anything.’
