Wilco- Lone Wolf - Book 4

by Geoff Wolak

  They raised hands as they became surrounded. Rocko kicked one in the balls, snatching the man’s sat phone. He handed it to me, and after a quick inspection I pocketed it.

  I clicked on the radio. ‘Captain Moran, you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, go ahead.’

  ‘Set-up an ambush, the men in the base will come out looking for the helo, they should have got a message out. We’ll set an ambush down here, but I’m calling in a chopper for the arms dealers.’

  ‘Copy that.’

  Rocko handed me their passports and IDs, as well as dollars, Rizzo searching the smouldering helicopter.

  Sat phone out, I called Captain Harris. ‘It’s Wilco, I need a Puma to this location, one mile due south of target camp in Guinea, second Puma as top cover, four priority prisoners to bring back.’

  ‘Prisoners?’

  ‘Russian arms dealers. Let me know an ETA, because I want them in ten minutes, or one hour later, not in between.’

  ‘OK, I’ll talk to them now, I know there’s one here sat ready.’

  My second call was to Bob as our prisoners were tied up and forced to sit in the mud. ‘It’s Wilco, just grabbed two Russian arms dealers after their helicopter developed a fault and went down.’ I could hear laughter nearby.

  ‘Excellent, that’ll keep the FBI happy.’

  I read out the names as Rizzo pulled out boxes of rifles, opening them.

  ‘One of those names is oddly familiar. What’ll you do with them?’

  ‘Puma on the way, I hope.’

  ‘OK, I’ll check with the French, I want those men, they’re currency. Any diamonds or cash?’

  ‘Nothing so far save a few boxes of rifles.’

  ‘I’ll call you back.’

  Phone away, four unhappy Russians knelt in the mud.

  ‘Wilco, found some pistols,’ Rizzo shouted.

  A prisoner lifted his head. ‘You’re Wilco?’ he asked in good English.

  I faced him. ‘We met, comrade?’

  ‘I work for The Company.’

  I took a moment to study him. ‘Rocko, untie that nice gentlemen and bring him over here.’ A minute later, I led the man away, his lower legs and knees muddy.

  He began. ‘I know who you are, and the operation here -’

  ‘Look, if we’ve fucked up some well organised undercover operation ... then that’s your fault for not sharing intel with London.’

  ‘Couldn’t have come at a better time, I’m sure they were onto me. I wanted out, but I was told to go into Liberia one more time.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s always that one more time that gets you killed.’

  ‘What can you tell me about that camp north of us?’

  ‘That the last helo before mine dropped off six American hostages from Liberia, and the helo before that dropped off more. Your operations in Liberia caused the move, and a shift of blame. The self-imposed President of Liberia is under the impression that your operations are a prelude to an invasion by Britain and America, but we both know that’ll never happen.’

  ‘So he ... doesn’t want American hostages on his soil as an excuse?’

  ‘Pretty much. And this place is lawless, but neutral Guinea.’

  I nodded. ‘Is there something you could tell my boss at Mi6 to convince me that I should not leave your rotting carcass here?’

  He blinked, looking worried. ‘Yes.’

  I took out my sat phone and called Bob. ‘Got a CIA guy with me posing as an arms dealer, I need you to check him out.’ I handed over the phone.

  My guest listened, then said, ‘Section Chief was Cliff Norton, Replaced with Chuck Henderson a year back, who was the Berlin Chief but moved sideways – not promoted, not popular in Langley.’ He listened. ‘Tall skinny fella, bad complexion.’ After a pause he said, ‘Short fat guy, smokes cigars.’ He finally handed me back the phone.

  I put it to my ear. ‘You want me to shoot him?’

  ‘No, he checks out, and those arseholes denied they had a man inside. They kept it from the FBI as well.’

  ‘What a world in intrigue and double dealing you live in, eh.’

  ‘Get him a ride out, and the Russians, top priority.’

  ‘Well, there may be some shooting first, the rebel camp is nearby and they’re probably on their way. We then have the situation of a dozen American hostages in that camp, moved from Liberia.’

  ‘Really? Excellent, because Chuck did ask. I’m sending in their Delta Force, so draw out the gunmen, or thin out the gunmen first.’

  With the helicopter giving off more smoke, I moved everyone away. ‘Ambush is in progress,’ I told Bob. I put the phone away. ‘You could catch a ride with your Delta Force if you like, or a Puma to Freetown.’

  ‘Delta Force sounds better, good food aboard ship.’

  I clicked on the radio. ‘Captain Moran, can you see movement?’

  ‘Yes, six jeeps just left.’

  ‘Change of plan, there are a dozen American hostages in that camp, Delta Force on their way. Move the jeeps away, hide them, move on the camp at the double, standby to move on the hostages, we may join you. First we’ll set an ambush here. Which way did the jeeps drive?’

  ‘West, to come around.’

  ‘Drive east, hide the jeeps. Go now!’ I turned. ‘Grab the prisoners, in the tree line, set an ambush, facemasks on, gloves on. Spread out in pairs, solid fire positions. Go!’

  Taking out my pistol, I handed it to the CIA guy. ‘What do I call you?’

  ‘Rick.’

  ‘Well, Rick, those prisoners are now your responsibility, I want them back beyond harm’s way. And Rick, London trusts you, I don’t; twitch and I’ll kill you.’

  His eyes widened. ‘Mean son of a bitch, ain’t ya.’

  ‘Goes with the job,’ I told him as we moved to the tree line.

  Little more than five minutes later I could see white jeeps on the road, at the spot we had halted at earlier. Armed men appeared, but they were not alert, rather just accepting a simple helicopter crash.

  Twelve men moved forwards in a line, two seen on the road and smoking, some of the approaching men lazily resting rifles over shoulders.

  I clicked on the radio. ‘Slider, work your way around to the left, stay hidden, but move fast, back to the road, hit anyone trying to leave.’

  ‘Moving.’

  ‘Rest of you - on my signal, open fire. When I fire you fire.’

  Kneeling next to a tree, no idea where the others had hidden themselves, I aimed at the two men on the road. Opening my left eye, I judged the time when those approaching were as close as they would get, and they bunched up nicely. They started to move to the right, avoiding the smoke, and into our clear view. Closing my left eye I took aim and squeezed the trigger, soon onto the second man as cracks sounded out all around.

  I double-tapped both men on the road, ignoring the action around me, and found a black face peeking out, hit it, and it disappeared, movement see, another black face peeking out and hit.

  Opening my left eye, I aimed at the foreground, no one left standing to fire at, but there could have been men in the long grass.

  Seeing a jeep moving right I aimed and fired several times at the driver’s position, and it came to a halt. I clicked on the radio. ‘Slider, report.’

  ‘I got three, hit one driver, can’t see any others.’

  ‘Keep the convoy covered, we’re coming to you. All men up, and move around to Slider.’

  I turned around, moved left and around, hearing men moving, and came up behind Rick, surprising him. ‘Get them moving,’ I told him, grabbing the pilots and nudging them on.

  We caught up with the lads, and we all made it to the road without incident, all feet now very muddy. Looking back from slightly higher ground than the crash site, I could see a man crawling and hit him twice, double-tapping a few bodies.

  ‘Rocko, left side, Rizzo, right side, check the bushes, look for men hiding, look for tracks, be careful.’

  ‘It’s Moran, I can hear you
just about.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘About three hundred yards around to the left. We drove off the track and hid the jeeps, branches over them, but the fifty cal could open up on the camp below if need be. We’re half way to the camp, southeast corner.’

  ‘Split up, surround it, find a way in, we may get to you soon, but be careful – they might shoot the damn hostages if we’re rumbled.’

  ‘We can see the smoke rising, so can they!’

  ‘The men they sent out - we killed them, but we’re on the clock before they’re missed.’

  Rocko fired twice, two quiet cracks. ‘Got one, he was hiding.’

  I stared at the jeeps. ‘I think ... I have an idea,’ I thought out loud.

  ‘What’s that?’ Slider asked.

  ‘They’re expecting these jeeps to return.’

  ‘But we don’t have black faces.’

  ‘They’ll expect white Russians, and we’ll have a few seconds of confusion, Moran and the lads in place ready.’

  ‘Well ... might work, or we get our nuts shot off.’

  I faced Rick. ‘Load our prisoners into a jeep.’ Seeing that the lads had progressed to the end of the jeeps without incident, I clicked on the radio. ‘Turn the jeeps around, grab the first four.’

  A few badly executed three point turns, a few smashed lights, and the jeeps were lined up, the Russians in the first jeep.

  I leant in the window. ‘Rick, I need you to drive into that base, smile and wave, then get the fuck down. You think you can do that?’

  ‘Lot of men in that base,’ he cautioned.

  ‘My men surround it as we speak. Don’t worry. And if your passengers try and warn them, shoot them.’

  ‘Wilco, it’s Nicholson.’

  I straightened up. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘We found a tall tree, going up now, should be able to hit anyone in the camp from up there.’

  ‘Good work, call out what’s happening, we’re going to drive through the front gate when you’re all ready. ETA ... ten minutes or less.’ Off the radio, I waved forwards Rocko and Slider. ‘In the first jeep, lay down, pistols out. I need you to hit three gate guards - and stick a grenade in the guardroom.’

  They exchanged looks, and moved forwards. I clambered into the back of the second jeep, Rizzo driving. And we waited, engines running.

  ‘It’s Moran, we’re in position, most of the gunmen in the long thin building, must be lunchtime, no one in the guard tower, a few men on the gate, and we can see white faces in a hut.’

  ‘Can you get inside without being seen? It’s starting to get dark.’

  ‘Yeah, big holes in the fence, some bushes. We’ll group around the white faces, storm it at the same time.’

  ‘Your go signal will be the sound of gunfire. We’re moving now.’ Off the radio I said, ‘Rizzo, flash your lights at Rick.’

  He did so, Rick easing his jeep forwards. I removed my silencer and set automatic, swapping magazines, tapping pockets with grenades in, two jeeps following behind.

  As we turned a corner I could see the pilots sat up in the back of the lead jeep, no sign of Rocko and Slider as they lay down. Approaching the village, people could see us, some stopping to stare, but we only needed a matter of a few seconds more. I ducked as we approached the open gate, rifle ready, and Rick drove straight in, waving.

  Quiet cracks sounded out. I jumped up, the gate guards down already, and I fired bursts into the long building, right to left as we drove past. A dull blast, and smoke emerged from the guard room. Rizzo turned left and halted, jumping out as I knelt in the back and continued to fire at the windows.

  Men emerging from the left of the long building were targeted by Rizzo, but more fell than he aimed at, rounds coming in from outside. A burst came from my right, a jeep window shattered as I continued to fire at the windows.

  Magazine swapped, I jumped down, continuing to fire at the long building as I closed in on it. Knelt below a window, I pulled out a grenade, pulled the pin and lobbed it in, a second grenade following. Back to the wall, I scanned the base as more grenades were lobbed into the building, suddenly seeing black faces pour out of a hut, men firing from the hip.

  I fired a long burst at their legs, my muzzle rising and hitting them incrementally higher, the men spun as I clicked empty, the dirt in front of me torn up, the wall next to me spitting out bits of masonry as I ducked. Magazine swapped, I set single shot, double-tapping the men in a hurry.

  It grew quiet.

  ‘Nicholson, report movement!’

  ‘Can’t see any, Boss!’

  ‘Everyone, check the huts, all the angles. Rocko, your team, watch the front gate for visitors.’

  Rick lifted up and peered out of his jeep.

  ‘Still with us?’ I casually asked him.

  ‘I’d rather be in Vegas right now.’

  Slider pointed at one of the pilots, a stray round through the head. I rushed across to a hut when I saw Moran emerge.

  ‘Mahoney is chatting to the hostages, fucking loads of them,’ Moran reported, breathing heavy.

  I took out my sat phone and dialled Captain Harris. ‘It’s Wilco, how we looking with those choppers.’

  ‘Two can take off now.’

  ‘Send them to the target camp in Guinea.’

  ‘Americans are on their way apparently.’

  ‘Hold on.’ I lowered the phone and faced Moran. ‘How many hostages?’

  ‘Twenty odd.’

  ‘How many Americans?’

  ‘Not all of them, say half.’

  I lifted the phone. ‘We’ll still need them for hostages.’

  ‘OK, I’ll send them now.’

  One of the 2 Squadron lads came limping along. ‘Got a scrape, Boss.’

  ‘Leave on the Pumas when they come,’ I told him. ‘Get it bound up.’ I clicked on the radio. ‘Any wounded, to me.’

  A minute later a Salty approached, his hand bound up. ‘Lost a fucking finger.’

  ‘Which one?’ I asked.

  ‘One next to my little finger, left hand. Odd, but it don’t hurt that much.’

  ‘That’s not a medical discharge, don’t worry,’ I assured him. ‘Get on the Puma when it comes.’

  ‘It’s Nicholson, men approaching the gate!’

  Cracks sounded out. ‘It’s Rocko, we got three, two ran off.’

  ‘Nicholson, hit any armed men in the village.’

  ‘Right, Boss.’

  Max came out of the hut, glancing around, and wary. ‘I photographed the hostages, got names. Three Brits, two French, two Spanish, rest are American or Canadians – their captors couldn’t tell the difference.’

  ‘None hurt?’ I asked.

  ‘Some have old wounds, beatings.’

  I nodded, and we waited, stepping around the bodies.

  First to arrive were the Pumas, door gunners visible. They circled twice, were waved at, and one set down, the European hostages loaded with our wounded, the Pumas sent off.

  Little more than ten minutes later three grey Seahawks appeared on the horizon, also circling before landing, also waved at.

  Running Bear jumped down and ran over, his hostages knelt ready. As Running Bear grinned and shook my hand, his men loaded the first batch of hostages. ‘I’ll see you around,’ he said, running bent-double. He sat on the edge of the helo and waved as it pulled up.

  The second Seahawk touched down, the second batch of hostages loaded – plus the Russian prisoners, and it pulled away, leaving the camp quiet.

  ‘Everyone get ready to leave, form up teams – less missing men, and to me.’ I faced Moran. ‘Lead off, you know where you parked.’

  ‘Hope I left the fucking handbrake on, was on a bit of a slope.’

  I called Bob as we stepped through a broken fence, Nicholson coming down from the tree, but with a huge splinter in his arm. It would need some minor surgery. ‘It’s Wilco, twenty hostages away, rebel camp destroyed, Americans got their hostages and the Russians.’<
br />
  ‘Great stuff. Any wounded?’

  ‘Minor wounds, an SBS guy with a finger shot off, a 2 Squadron lad with a bad scrape. At this rate we’ll have no lads left.’

  ‘I checked on the other wounded, they’re fine, could come back out to you.’

  ‘Send them, yes. Army is always over-cautious.’

  ‘What’ll you do now?’

  ‘Drive back.’

  Phone away, two of the 2 Squadron lads dragged over two black soldiers. ‘Found them hiding in the bushes.’

  ‘Tie their hands, we’ll take them back, they might know something,’ I ordered.

  ‘Are we allowed to interrogate them?’ Moran asked.

  ‘Not us – we’d get some shit, we’ll hand them over to the Sierra Leone Government, they might shed some light on what goes on around here. Could always give them a few quid though...’

  Back at the jeeps we hit a snag, ten minutes used up trying to get the jeeps out of the mud they sat in as the sun dipped below the horizon, branches broken off and placed down, rags, all sorts used. With men pushing, men in the jeeps to help with traction, we finally got them back on the red dirt track and facing the right way, and we drove back around to the remaining abandoned jeeps, the Mi8 still smoking.

  I called a halt, and jumped down. ‘Max, try and hit that helo with an RPG.’ He smiled like an idiot. ‘Rocko, Rizzo, use the 105mm on that base, and some RPG. And someone check those last abandoned two jeeps, pinch them away.’

  Stood there with Henri and Mahoney, we peered down at the darkened base through a break in the trees.

  Holding my rifle in my left hand, I asked Henri, ‘What was it like, your first time here?’

  He cradled his rifle like a newborn. ‘I was young, and we were afraid. We were fired at from the trees when we drove around, we hit mines, and we feared what they would do to us if they caught us. Some men, they were caught, all chopped up.

  ‘This time ... I have no fear. Back then, we had no camouflage, no snipers, no officers with good ideas – we fought like infantry against men hidden in the bushes. Only now, I look back, I see how stupid it was, why we lost men. Here we camouflage, we have snipers, good men, we make it look easy, and I don’t fear these men.’

  I turn my head slightly to Mahoney. ‘You fought in the jungle?’