Wilco- Lone Wolf 15

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘Bloody hell,’ the Major let out. ‘You can’t drive to the shops in those, danger to you or not!’

  A sergeant in a big helmet, a hand on a GPMG, shouted down. ‘RAF Regiment, sir, here to lend some firepower. We’ll have a 24hr rotation set up, men will bed down here.’

  ‘There’s a house you can use,’ I shouted up. ‘And huts and barracks, canteen. Around the back is the long range. Every morning, 9am, fire some rounds down the range if there are no men on it, drive around the roads and don’t kill the grass, drive around the range but not from midnight to 7am.’

  ‘Right, sir.’

  ‘Park them by the gate most of the time,’ I shouted up. ‘Have one on duty at all times, men inside, day and night. When things happen, they happen fast. I’ll sort it with the farmer so you can use his fields as well.’

  ‘Right, sir.’ They drove around to the range, jeeps seen offloading men and kit, eight men to be stationed here – more mouths to feed.

  ‘That’ll scare the buggers,’ the Major noted. ‘Fast as well they are, legal on UK roads, so if someone takes a shot and drives off we can go after them.’

  My phone trilled so I stepped away. ‘It’s David. Casper’s body got up and walked off, one mortician knocked cold, one drugged. Any clues..?’

  I forced away my smile. ‘Not really, no. Such things are worthy of a good conspiracy tale.’

  ‘Indeed, just that the FBI are seriously pissed off with us. CCTV was turned off, a message left on a wall.’

  ‘Message?’ I puzzled, now worried.

  ‘Up yours, Kilroy was here.’

  I smiled widely. ‘Kelly’s Heroes war movie, a World War II joke.’

  ‘It came complete with a smiley face. The FBI think it was aimed at them – by us.’

  ‘Well I was here all night, everyone accounted for, can’t vouch for your lot obviously. Oh, got some tanks at GL4 now.’

  ‘Tanks? You have tanks?’

  ‘Tanks. Big metal things with tracks and guns.’

  ‘I know what a tank is. Where’d you get the tanks?’

  ‘They’re RAF Regiment Scorpion tanks, sent by the Air Commodore. They can pursue someone very quickly across rough terrain.’

  ‘A bit unfair, against some poor chap with a sniper rifle.’

  ‘I’m not feeling very fair right now.’

  After lunch, stood near the hangar mouth – all the talk being about the new tanks, or reconnaissance vehicles as the crew insisted, Bob Staines called. ‘You still a free man, or shackled and in the Tower of London?’ he asked.

  ‘Our PM told the French to fuck off.’

  ‘Given this morning’s apology they can hardly extradite you, but they could still try and shoot you of course. Anyhow, The Banker was … restless overnight, and active. We have the former driver of Rene Bastion, hung-up and uncomfortable. I’d go so far as to say … he’s not enjoying the hospitality shown.’

  ‘Has he given up anything?’

  ‘Some, but he knows little. He did confess to listening in on his boss’s calls from time to time, and is very keen to save his own skin. He thinks he heard the conversation about the truck bombs. The Paris bomb was due to left outside the Hyatt, or inside the parking levels, so he believes. It was to be found, not detonated he thinks.

  ‘The thermite he had no idea about, but the second truck was due to be a dry run for something else.’

  I puzzled that. ‘Dry run … to bring down a building … by bringing down a building?’

  ‘Yes, odd. He’s a bit incoherent.’

  ‘This time, No.1, no body left for the police to find, no traces. Make it look like he skipped town. Have his credit card used in … Bogota.’

  ‘Nice place, Bogota, if you’re a bit mad. You know about the shootings overnight?’

  ‘Yes, they’re linked in, and the men were shot in a loud and public way – a message from one faction to the other. Our money is on an American interest here, not least because their Senate Intelligence Committee shut down my request that the CIA investigate the bank.’

  ‘They did? That’s … naughty. Oh, reason for the call -’

  ‘You have a body..?’

  ‘We do, in a refrigerated meat wagon at Dover.’

  ‘David Finch puzzled the message on the wall.’

  ‘I may have used some nostalgia when I asked for it. Kelly’s Heroes, my favourite war film as a kid.’

  ‘Listen, PM has released a press statement I gave him. The oil belt in Guinea, Sierra Leone and Liberia will be opened up to all, no need for anyone to start a coup.’

  ‘The hope being that they make money legitimately. We wait and see if that appeases them. But why do it?’

  ‘Partly to slow them right down, partly to give us time, and partly because Tomsk will make a killing with infrastructure projects down there. Let The Banker know that there’ll be some great opportunities.’

  Inside, I found Reggie in his office. I closed the door and sat. ‘The French truck bomb was to be placed in the Hyatt, Paris, to be found, and the thermite was a dry run. Any clues?’

  He eased back. ‘Well, if you’re gunna jack up the insurance then you need a reason I guess, and finding a truck bomb would do that. Normal insurance doesn’t cover terrorism, you need special insurance, detailed by Lloyds of London because a few people around the world have blown up their own buildings for the money.

  ‘These guys are legit and huge, so Lloyds would not question it, but … they may question its need and set a low pay out.’ He tapped a file. ‘If that building comes down, the bank gets two point five times what it’s worth, so a good deal. Less the premiums obviously, and they’re a million quid a month.’

  ‘Expensive premiums, yes,’ I agreed. ‘Unless you have a timely plan to collect some money. So the Hyatt bomb would justify the insurance for the Hyatt and other similar buildings, Arab gunman conveniently shot dead by police on hand, a big splash in the papers. But how did they justify the London insurance?’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s not standard, it would cause questions, and Mi5 would need to be notified.’

  ‘Ah…’ I stood and walked out. In the hangar I called Mister Kitson, Mi5’s new director now in my phone, and on my list as Kitkat.

  ‘Wilco?’

  ‘Listen, sir, the E2 building that the thermite was destined for. Someone in Mi5 signed off some form to say that there was a raised terror threat level, and that allowed the building’s insurance to be doubled. Find that document, and the man behind it, and you may want to use some harsh language.’

  ‘I have a poker ready to heat up.’

  ‘Let me know please. Work fast, sir.’

  I called David Finch. ‘Someone in Mi5 signed off the Omani building in London as being under a terror threat, and that allowed the insurance to be doubled.’

  ‘That’s naughty. Does Kitson know?’

  ‘Yes, he’s on the case.’

  ‘They would need the duplicity of Lloyds insurers, to keep that quiet. I’ve not heard of a raised threat level and … bugger.’

  ‘Bugger..?’

  ‘One of those calling for your head, a bit too loudly, is well connected in Lloyds. I think I have some more digging to do.’

  ‘His name?’

  ‘You’re not allowed to touch him!’

  ‘For reference, in case I meet him,’ I pressed.

  ‘Lord Michaels.’

  ‘Never heard of him,’ I lied. Inside, I updated Tinker and Reggie.

  Reggie smiled. ‘Lord Michaels spent a few years with Mi5 after nine years in the Guards. He was kicked out, they say, for being a little close to the Israelis. He now has a security consulting business in Israel.’

  I was worried. ‘Are we saying … that the Israelis knew?’

  ‘Not much gets past the Israelis,’ Reggie noted.

  ‘Factor them into your research, just in case.’

  Outside, I called back David. ‘Do me a favour and set-up a meet with the CIA station chief and the Mossad st
ation chief.’

  ‘Mossad don’t admit to having a London station, but my opposite number always has a man on hand in an hour, so they don’t fly in. What’s the issue here?’

  ‘I want to find out if there is an issue here, so we need a chat.’

  ‘I’m … concerned. PM and the Americans would not allow us to upset the Israelis.’

  ‘What about them upsetting us?’

  ‘They do, often, and we ignore it.’

  ‘Set the meeting please.’

  ‘OK. But this oil press statement to appease them, to burst their bubble, is it not enough?’

  ‘We hope so, but do we want to know the full picture in case it’s not enough?’

  ‘Well, I’d say we keep investigating.’

  An hour later he was back on. ‘Got a problem, or ten. I spoke to the Israelis, and they were surprised that you wanted to meet. A short while later the Americans asked about any issues with the Israelis, polite double-talk for telling us to back off, then the PM asked why we were looking at them.’

  ‘So that answers my question, they are involved.’

  ‘Involved?’

  ‘Lord Michaels was reporting to Mossad when he was working in Mi5.’

  ‘So it was rumoured, yes. Your … source?’

  I ignored his question. ‘Are you saying that they get away with anything they like? Because I have a sneaky suspicion they raided our Greek friend’s garage. Question is, was it to silence him or to punish him for bombs on trucks.’

  ‘I don’t see Mossad setting off bombs in Europe.’

  ‘But how much influence do they have over the bank? Do they spy on the bank, invest with them, turn a blind eye – or make use of the opportunities when they arise?’

  ‘They’re normally very stealthy, rarely in the papers, so if they are spying on the bank they’d have a very low profile but – if some useful intel arose – they’d make use of it.’

  ‘To make some money, or to stop terrorists?’

  ‘I’d say stop the terrorists first, then make some money. They’re the ones being targeted by the terrorists.’

  ‘Being Jewish is reason enough to raise your insurance premiums, isn’t it.’

  After a long pause came, ‘More or less.’

  ‘We won’t fix this unless they’re on board and not opposing us.’

  Phone down and held in my hand, I stared out across the airfield at the tanks. Rocko was walking up. ‘Sergeant Major, get a few men and check the runway for anything that could puncture and aircraft tyre, I’m not sure they checked after the bomb.’

  He took in the runway. ‘I don’t remember any one checking.’

  ‘Let the tank crews know not to cross the runway but go around, for the same reason, we might land a Hercules on it.’

  He nodded and headed inside.

  I called The Banker.

  ‘Ah, Petrov, how goes the good fight?’

  ‘You sound better, body released into your care now.’

  ‘Yes, I got the paperwork,’ he dryly joked.

  ‘Listen, do you have contact with Mossad?’

  ‘No, I’ve always avoided them.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Partly because of who I loan money to, and partly because I’m Jewish - yet not fond of Israelis. I’ve met many and they’re always hard work. They tried to get someone close to me once, so I had him shot in the foot, a message. Why?’

  ‘They’re linked in. Lord Michaels faked insurance documents and threat levels to get the London building insurance up, and he’s been reporting to them since his days in Mi5. So they know, and they never stopped those trucks. At least…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I have to go.’ I called Gorskov. ‘It’s Petrov.’

  ‘Ah, I was … wondering about some money.’

  ‘I was waiting for the news to quieten down a little.’

  ‘I have been watching the news, yes, astounding.’

  ‘Listen, the man who bugged the Greek garage; tell me all about him.’

  ‘He’s vanished, maybe dead.’

  ‘How did you meet him?’ I pressed.

  ‘Years ago, he was in Northern Cyprus when I was there, he was on the run. He has a small business, wine, selling Cypriot wine with fake labels.’

  ‘His name?’

  ‘Sergio Callus.’

  ‘Callus?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Any links to Malta?’

  ‘Yes, he had an ex-wife there he said, draining his money. How did you know?’

  ‘Callus is a Maltese name. How exactly did bugging the garage come about? Think hard.’

  ‘Well … he mentioned the transport guy, up to no good, maybe we could steal a load from him if it was something valuable.’

  ‘So he started the conversation, led you towards bugging the Greek,’ I nudged.

  ‘Well … it was a joint idea.’

  ‘He’s Mossad, dope.’

  ‘Mossad?’

  ‘Yes, they played you. But don’t worry, they’re not coming after you.’

  ‘My god.’

  ‘Don’t worry, and I will get you some money soon, I have my hands full at the moment.’

  Phone down, I sighed heavily, shaking my head. I called David. ‘Mossad tipped off Gorskov, at least someone there did, someone who wanted the trucks stopped.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yes. Don’t say anything to them, but if push comes to shove you can thank them for me. It would just be nice if I got a call from them,’ I sighed out.

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘They’re spying on the bank, looking for opportunities, but they stopped short of letting a building come down.’

  ‘Not surprising, that building in E2 has four floors of Jewish investment banks.’

  I stared out at the tanks. ‘Interesting.’

  ‘What … is interesting?’

  ‘This Jewish element. Talk later.’

  Inside, I found Reggie and sat. ‘Mossad has been spying on the bank, they’ve penetrated the bank at high levels, and it was a Mossad agent that tipped off my contact, knowing that the tip-off would get to me.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Reggie let out, easing back wide-eyed. ‘Why … why help you like that?’

  ‘When your parents argue, which side do you take?’ I posed as I stood. ‘Factor in Mossad.’

  Outside, I called back Bob. ‘Listen, Mossad has penetrated the bank at several levels, so if you grab someone be careful. Have a question to ask, some way to identify a Mossad agent, then don’t torture or kill them.’

  ‘I can do that, yes, we don’t need Mossad pissed off at us, got enough trouble already. What did you find out?’

  ‘A Mossad agent tipped off Gorskov about the truck bombs. But I’m not sure he cleared it with his bosses first. I think the thermite was meant to be found, and the other truck bomb, heading to the Hyatt, Paris. Something went wrong – or someone changed the plan.’

  Walking down to the canteen I noticed a wooden sign in red. ‘Idle talk costs lives. Don’t you know there’s a war on!’

  I smiled at it at shook my head, the sign looking like a vintage WWII original.

  That night I sat with Sasha and we watched the news; he had been to see his lady during the day. Rocko appeared with take-away curry, so he joined us, wanting some company.

  ‘What the lads doing?’ he idly asked.

  ‘Training the American Wolves I hope.’

  ‘Major said they were training some blacks as well...’

  ‘Yes, I’d forgotten about them. They’re Guinea soldiers, well trained. They’re now part of Echo, we’ll train them up and use them in Africa; black faces to spy on other blacks.’

  I glanced at Sasha. ‘Keep this to yourselves, but … Casper’s body was removed. I have it, back with his family. They’ll bury him.’

  ‘Ah, good,’ Sasha noted. ‘No good lying in some cold morgue.’ He shuddered. ‘I don’t want to be found if I’m killed, no autopsy.’

 
Rocko noted, ‘Always figured I’d take a bullet, now I’m filling in forms.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with living and getting old, Sergeant Major,’ I told him. ‘How’s the eye?’

  ‘I decided against the operation. Might fix it, might just screw it up they said. Most days it’s fine, but a good knock would see me blind in that eye.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I told him. ‘Excellent chance of getting shot around here.’

  We heard the rev of tank engine and the crash, puzzled looks exchanged, but not worried looks.

  ‘Is Tomo driving that thing?’ Rocko asked as we stood and headed for the door.

  Outside, the lights coming on, the siren starting, the Scorpion had smashed into a transit van, smoke and steam seen.

  MP Pete came running. ‘Get back! It rammed the gate!’

  Fearing a car bomb, we quite sensibly moved back inside the house. I checked my pistol, Rocko checking his. We were loaded and cocked.

  ‘I need to keep a 66mm in the hall,’ I quipped. I got the kettle on as Rocko headed out, some coffee needed; it could be a long night.

  He was back ten minutes later. ‘Drunk teenager, van is empty save some stolen church lead. Van is in the middle of the runway, bomb disposal on their way, police here.’

  ‘Will the kid live?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah, just a cut face. Police say the van belongs to a gypsy near Swindon.’

  I called Max and gave him the story. ‘Get a file image of a Scorpion tank, we have two here now.’

  After a cup of tea – not coffee, I stepped out with Sasha, Rocko organising things. The sergeant responsible for the Scorpion came over.

  ‘We stopped him, sir, but just a drunk kid.’

  ‘Good work, Sergeant. But if that van had been loaded with explosives?’

  ‘Then we’d see how good our armour was, sir, ears ringing. We had the hatches down tight at the time, and the vehicle’s air system is smoke proof.’

  ‘Good work, check the Scorpion for damage.’

  ‘A few scratches, sir.’

  ‘You’ll be in tomorrow’s Sun newspaper, so go buy a copy in the morning.’

  In Virginia, a US Senator lowered his shotgun, popped the lock and pulled out the spent cartridges.

  ‘Pull,’ could be heard nearby.

  From his beige utility waistcoat he pulled two fresh cartridges.