by Geoff Wolak
‘Unlikely, they teach proper soldiering. What you may not know about yet is that we found offices in Freetown linked to our friends, three white men seen, their mail opened, GCHQ bugging them.’
‘I didn’t get a note from GCHQ,’ he complained.
‘Probably delayed in the post,’ I quipped. ‘Anyhow, when the camp was hit those white men were reported as being mad as hell, and heading north in a helo, which I had shot down by the US Navy.
‘And before you see it, a close associate of Lord Michael’s, an ex-Army officer called Burgess, he now has an arrest warrant from Interpol’s child sex police for his activities in Freetown when he was a young officer.’
David noted, ‘So we’re making some good progress today, in many areas - apart from people keeping me informed. Our friends are set back a bit, since rebel soldiers cost money – sat in barracks or otherwise.
‘Burgess I know, rather fat gentleman, very fat come to think about it, works in security consulting. Oh, almost forgot, Chief Cabinet Secretary resigned last night, on medical grounds, time with his family.’
‘Another small victory, but against the wrong people really. I don’t think he reported to Lord Michaels.’
‘No, but still, the Cabinet Office is not for the CIA no matter how closely we work with them,’ David insisted.
‘Indeed, we need our privacy. Oh, the lady from Mossad came back, did you get a note?’
‘No,’ he complained.
‘She has another job, Yemen not Sudan, so I said that when the current mess is finished I might help her – with your kind consent of course.’
‘Of course.’
‘She then complained at length about the waste in money and manpower on the Bin Laden job, suggesting that her boss in Mossad counted every shekel spent.’
‘And … are you suggesting that I’m like that?’
‘Only based on what those who know you tell me.’
‘It’s my job, I have to account for every penny. We don’t give James Bond money for the casino without a requisition in advance and a signed receipt, and insurance in case he loses it, insurance for his car as he travels to the casino, and insurance in case he stubs a toe in the shower.’
‘Ah, how the films differ to real life,’ I teased. ‘And your view … on Mossad?’
‘We cooperate on a few things, more would be nice. More us helping them … than the other way around.’
‘Maybe I’ll break down a few barriers.’
‘In your case, literally, so please don’t break the barriers at Mossad HQ, we’d get the bill for certain.’
‘Then you won’t like what Spectre has been doing with my slush fund. Recently they handed our CT policeman come spy half a million quid.’
‘Dear god. I’m glad I don’t have to account for that. What the hell did you sanction that for?’
‘He has a mate, driver and bodyguard for Lord Michaels, and that mate wants out – no prison sentence.’
‘Ah, in that case maybe a good investment, but I would have gone for a lower sum.’
I smiled widely. ‘It’s to be split between them. And I’m thinking that if they both go missing - but are known to be alive and well - it will worry our enemies some.’
‘Hold on.’ I waited. ‘Just got a note, MOD sending some high ranking officers to see you tomorrow. So it’s either a congratulations for today’s actions, or to complain.’
I sighed. ‘I’m leaning towards complain.’
In the morning we got word, a convoy to arrive from Brize Norton after some meeting there. That convoy arrived at midday, four cars plus police escort front and back. As they drove around the track I figured that a low key approach might have been better, the police cars kind of advertised the occupants of the vehicles as being people worth shooting at.
The Brigadier and Major Bradley stood ready with Rocko, MPs nearby, as well as two Gloucester armed officers. The bomb sniffer dog had been around the offices, and Rocko had conducted a search. So we were set, fingers crossed.
From the cars stepped down the Air Commodore first and I smiled, saluting. ‘Good to see you, sir, pop in more often.’
‘I’ll try, but they keep me busy. Not as busy as you, mind you.’
Next came General Dennet and Colonel Clifford. I saluted again, ‘Welcome back, sir,’ I told General Dennet, who was being reserved, but I offered Clifford a warm smile and shook his hand. ‘Seems like years ago, the war in Liberia.’
‘It’s etched into my heart,’ he told me with a smile.
Next came a general I knew as being the head of infantry, having met him at the UKSF Directorate, and finally another general, one I had not met yet, the man a little overweight. That man took in the base, his head firmly up his own arse from the outset.
I saluted him directly. ‘Welcome to GL4, sir.’
‘Does it not have a proper name?’ he grumbled.
‘How about Dodge City, sir.’ I waited.
He was not amused. ‘A military base needs a formal name from the MOD.’
I nodded, ignored him and led the others inside, a look exchanged with the Brigadier. Upstairs, I led them to the clean briefing room, tables already arranged, my admin corporal making the drinks, the Major assisting as I spoke to the Air Commodore about the rescue in Guinea.
Stood in a loose group, I said to General Dennet, ‘What can I help you with today, sir?’
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘A great deal has happened since we met last, and despite this place answering to Intel we feel we need some answers, direct answers.’
‘If you summon me, sir, I will report on time – mud off my boots. I wear the same uniform.’
‘We have an uneasy relationship with Intel and the Cabinet Office, who cut us out of the loop,’ he complained.
The new general, Chorlton, cut in, ‘Major, we have some questions, starting with the risks to my son.’
‘Your son was not the target of either Mi5 or the Moldovan hit men, I was the target.’
‘You were?’
‘Yes, sir. It was a trick, to hide behind the attempt on the Omani boy, my death to be seen as a by-product of the attempt on the boy.’
‘And the man who shot you?’
‘Had been in the school for three months, and armed, no one knew. But he was not there for me, he was there to blackmail the fathers of boys in the school, men who stepped out of line in whatever shadowy circles they moved in.’
‘Blackmail?’
‘Yes, sir.’ I waited, but when I noticed the admin corporal I had him leave.
‘And the man who ended up in Oman?’
‘The trigger man, sir, he was in the south woods here, mobile phone in hand, the signal recorded by GCHQ at four seconds prior to the bomb going off. If there had been no delay I’d not be here. And since he woke up and found himself in a prison in Oman he’s given up names, and arrests have been made by Mi5.’
‘Evidence obtained through torture…’
‘Almost as bad a blowing up a boy on a bus, eh,’ I quipped. ‘Do we exercise our morals when the terrorists and conspirators don’t? Maybe that’s why this country is in such a mess, its security such a joke, its intelligence services powerless. We have rules.’ I could see the Major shooting me a look, the Brigadier fidgeting.
‘We have rules and laws, yes, and we should damn well stick to them!’
‘If I had stuck to the rules I would never have found the plot against the school, sir, or stopped the Paris poison, or the bombs on trucks, or the fifty other events that we dealt with quietly so that the good British public could sleep well in their beds. But we did, and we will continue to do so, because that’s in the national interest.
‘A bomb going off, followed by an investigation by the police, is not desired by the government, and they give me direction on a regular basis. If you have a complaint to make, sir, the postal address is 10 Downing Street.’
He controlled his anger, barely. ‘And who are you accountable to?’
‘Mo
stly, the Cabinet Office, sir.’
‘They should come through us.’
‘Again, I refer you back to them, sir, I follow orders from the democratically elected government.’ I stood firm.
He turned to the Brigadier. ‘And you rubber stamp what he does?’
‘It’s a grey area, sir, a fudge, the shared responsibility of Intel, the Cabinet Office, and the MOD. They all have a say, but Wilco always asks for input from all sides. I have confidence in him.’
‘And when did Major’s start giving statements to the press?’
I answered, ‘The Prime Minister of this land, your boss, asked me to.’ I waited.
‘And why do you know more about what’s going on that our own intelligence services? According to some I know, you brief them, not the other way around!’
‘That is true, sir. To understand the situation, you have to appreciate that many years ago I was loaned out to Intel from the SAS, time spent undercover. After a few successes I worked with the CIA and French Intel, and their governments pushed our Prime Minister to keep me doing that kind of work.
‘I work with and for the CIA, and they exert influence. Our previous Prime Minister was happy with that and kept me doing what I was good at. As part of that undercover process I built up a network of contacts around the world, and those contacts provide me with intel which I pass on up the line – as any good field agent would.
‘You see me as a major in a British uniform, sir, but much of the time I’m working for Intel, ours and other nations, so it can be confusing for an outsider, and there is no clear chain of command when the CIA are nudging things along. Our Prime Minister is happy with that, so you’re also happy with that – being a servant of the government like me.’
‘Cheeky bastard, I don’t need reminding of who I work for!’
‘On the contrary, sir. You’re here because you disagree with the Cabinet Office handing me work. Is that not the case?’
Dennet cut in, ‘Has the problem been fixed, and are we likely to see a quiet country free of bombs?’
‘We are making progress, sir, slowly.’
‘Progress with what?’ he nudged.
‘You may not sleep well at night if I explain that, sir.’
They exchanged looks.
Dennet said, ‘I have confidence in you and what you’ve done, Wilco, but we have a great many unanswered questions, bombs going off on MOD property.’
I glanced at the Brigadier. He began, ‘They have a right to know, and I think they can keep a secret.’
I considered that, and faced General Dennet. ‘Many years ago an oil survey was done in Guinea, Sierra Leone and Liberia, and they found vast quantities of oil. But they kept the report secret, they certainly didn’t inform the local black population.
‘A few years back a handful western mining and oil companies wanted to get at the oil they knew was there, but the trouble was the warring factions and some UN sanctions against places like Liberia. Not to mention some inhospitable marsh and jungle. Those western companies organised the coup in Liberia.’
‘They what?’ Dennet loudly asked, Clifford shocked. ‘We thought it was Nigerians!’
‘We all thought that because the money trail ended with the Nigerian oil barons, who wanted to get at the oil. What we didn’t know was that those Nigerians were skint, and that the money came from western backers.’
‘Which western backers?’ Clifford asked.
‘I’m not at liberty to say, but the money used to nearly end your life, and to pay for the ex-SAS men to attack us, was sent from London.’
‘London!’ Chorlton exploded. ‘What the hell do you mean, from London?’
‘I mean, sir,’ I calmly stated. ‘That companies based in London, run by British men, in concert with American and European companies, funded the coup that our army put down. They paid for the missiles aimed at us, the planes shot down by our Lynx helicopters, the bombs sent to the FOB, and the numerous attempts on my life.’
‘So what the hell is the government doing about it?’ Dennet loudly asked.
‘Doing about it, sir? They’re keeping it quiet, as being in the best interests of the city of London.’
‘Keeping it quiet?’ Chorlton angrily asked.
‘That’s their right.’
‘The fuck it is, we have laws, even for sneaky shit politicians!’
‘There won’t be a trial, because the men involved include members of parliament, Lords and life peers, city bankers, City of London Corporation directors, and freemasons. They’ll never see a court room.’
Dennet and Clifford exchanged looks. ‘You have evidence?’ Dennet asked.
‘I’ve been advised not to use it, sir.’
Major Bradley cut in, ‘And a damn disgusting thing that is, to ask him to stay quiet!’
I told Dennet, ‘Even the Queen wanted me to stay quiet about it, to deal with it quietly, and we are. We’re picking up the foot soldiers one by one.’
‘And the men at the top?’ the Air Commodore asked.
‘Will die of old age, sir, comfy in their beds.’
The Brigadier cut in, ‘He knows who they are, and despite twenty attempts on his life he’s toeing the line and following orders.’
‘Illegal orders,’ Chorlton scoffed.
I faced him. ‘Sir, rock the boat on this issue and you’ll suffer a heart attack.’ His eyes widened. ‘You’re screwing with the old boy network, the freemasons and others, and they’ll have no issues with a fast acting poison for you, and the autopsy will not show anything. That’s how things are done in their circles.
‘And don’t forget your son. The shooter was in that school to blackmail fathers, a threat to the lad, a note found in his school bag, a note to convince the father that the boy could be reached. The man shot dead in your son’s school may not be the only one, and he will be replaced. Make some noise in the press and your boy gets picked up.
‘And that man in the school – he passed all the background checks that the police and Mi5 ran, so he had help from high up.’
‘This is outrageous!’
‘This is the country we live in, sir, the old boy network means a lot here. They blew up a van with their own people, and the son of a foreign power. You think they give a fuck about your life?’
‘How the hell do you fight them?’ Clifford asked.
‘With a double paradox, sir.’
‘A what?’
‘My early work with Intel gave me access to the underworld, and that helped me put down the coup in Liberia – I got warnings.’
‘Phone calls in Russian,’ Clifford noted.
‘Yes, sir. And those underworld contacts are now dismantling the threat against us one brick at a time, and making good progress. We got the trigger man rendered to Oman, we got the Mi5 manager called Lewis arrested, we have two men in safe custody abroad, and we have a filing cabinet full of evidence against them.’
‘You said you were warned off using it,’ Dennet noted.
‘I was, and I’m not planning on a public court case, but … people slip on bars of soap all the time, and every day another foot soldier is dealt with, leading to his manager, leading to his boss. We’ve taken quite a few off the streets already, more each day.’
‘They can recruit more men,’ Clifford noted.
‘Expensive things, hitmen, sir, and it takes years to trust someone and to build up a network. We’re taking down their network. A few weeks from now and they’ll be struggling to find any hired help.’
‘And then?’ Dennet nudged.
‘The government is going to open up the oil areas to anyone that wants to drill a well legally. After that they’d have no reason to start a coup. We hope.’
‘And why are you dealing with this and not Mi6?’ Chorlton demanded.
‘They have rules, sir, and they try and stick to them, oversight from the JIC and Parliament. They wait for solid evidence before an arrest, and that arrest is a file sent to the Home Secretary, his
final choice.’
‘You’re suggesting that you work outside the law!’ Chorlton noted.
‘Mi6 are leaving it to my team here because we sit in no-man’s land, and they can deny responsibility for us. I also have the CIA links, and the underworld links, so … I’m the only one that can sort this mess.’
‘And if you’re killed?’ Clifford asked.
‘Then they win, and they carry on, business as usual for the powerful and the corrupt.’
Clifford glanced at Dennet. ‘Is there anything we can do to help?’
‘Tanks and planes won’t fix this, sir, this is about rich men meeting behind closed doors, money handed to security firms with ex-SAS staff, bribes paid to corrupt African politicians.’
‘And Mi6 can’t help?’ he nudged.
‘They answer to the JIC and parliament’s select committees, sir, and some of the men on those committees are involved here.’
‘And the new Prime Minister?’ Clifford nudged.
‘He knows some of it, but does not wish to harm Britain’s reputation abroad, and rightly so. A series of high-profile court cases would be bad all around, trust lost in the city of London, and that affects us all as British citizens. We all live together in a greenhouse, so throwing rocks is a bad idea – for them and us.’
‘Are we likely to see more bombs on vans?’ the Air Commodore asked.
‘No, sir, they’re running and hiding and losing men, and the various factions are in-fighting. We think the American faction is exerting itself, a number of high profile French bankers shot dead.’
‘And that DGSE manager?’ he nudged.
I sighed. ‘Was told that if he didn’t take his own life that his family would be killed, so … he did the only thing he could.’
‘How are the French involved?’ Chorlton demanded.
‘The conspirators meeting behind closed doors come from many nations, sir, Britain, America and Europe – a common financial interest.’
‘Financial interest?’ Dennet repeated. ‘They want to get rich by running amok in Africa, no care as to who they kill! A colonial attitude!’
I nodded.
‘Is our own government after the oil?’ the Air Commodore asked.
‘No sign of that, sir, and they’ve been pissing about down there for years. We put down the coup when I could just have easily been ordered to stay in bed.’
