Wilco- Lone Wolf 21

by Geoff Wolak

  The major rushed out after calling names.

  Colonel Mathews stopped at the door and turned back. ‘Sir, he … may have been instrumental in the attempts to kill British Major Wilco.’ Shocked faces glanced at each other. ‘The media will want blood, our blood. And someone's going to have to apologise to the British.’

  Miller's boss was back on ten minutes later. ‘Sam Westmore was a shock, he's talking to us, so he could be the leak – soon to be plugged. As for the others, they've done a damn good job of keeping things quiet.’

  ‘I have teams moving in, so if you don't clean house we will,’ I threatened.

  ‘We'll clean house,’ he assured me.

  ‘Do so quietly, without wrecking the FBI. They're not all to blame.’

  I called David Finch. ‘Spectre identified all the key players in FBI Deep State, they're being rounded up by the other Deep State.’

  ‘So maybe an end to things, or at least a pause, since they must have a network far and wide built up over many years.’

  ‘If I knew that you had been tortured for information I'd be worried, and they'll soon know that their bosses were made to talk. They'll be running and hiding.’

  ‘What the hell do I tell the Prime Minister?’

  ‘I'll do that. Get him to call me, we'll leave you out of it.’

  The PM called half an hour later. I stepped outside into the cold, many MPs seen patrolling in pairs. ‘Wilco, you wounded? Wounded again, I mean.’

  ‘I'll live, sir. Listen, we've had a breakthrough, and the idiot American faction that I deal with are … dealing with the other idiot American faction that has been trying to kill me, but we can't say anything publically or wreck the FBI or shout at the White House, this was not the White House.’

  ‘Christ, what a mess.’

  ‘It is being sorted, sir, and today.’

  ‘And these attacks on the FBI buildings?’

  ‘Faction against faction, messages sent.’

  ‘The dirty laundry being aired in public, prime time on the news. Christ, what a mess.’

  ‘Delay any reaction by 24hrs, sir, and we should be further forwards then.’

  ‘I had a good shout at the Intel Chiefs and the police.’

  ‘The men the Americans sent were the best undercover agents in the world, great training and fantastic resources, men in place for decades. These bad boys have been playing the long game, at it for thirty years. And you have SIS looking at the Russians, not the American tourists who visit - and photograph the palace.’

  ‘And damn hard to detect who's who.’

  ‘Yes, sir, so … just give us a few days to sort it please.’

  ‘Your men wounded?’

  ‘We're stood down as a unit.’

  ‘Christ,’ he sighed out.

  ‘The two men wounded on the para drop, they picked up fresh wounds, but they'll be OK. We just need a quiet spell to get some fishing in.’

  ‘We'll chat again tomorrow.’ He cut the call.

  A car pulled in, the Director of GCHQ. He was led in to me, hand shaken, tea offered. We sat.

  ‘Prime Minister had a good shout,’ he began.

  ‘I just spoke to him, and explained the situation. We're up against the best deep cover agents the Americans have, men in place for decades, and you're geared up to observe the Russians not the American tourists taking snaps of the palace.’

  He nodded. ‘Damn hard to fight the CIA and FBI, and we dare not sour the relationship.’

  ‘We got a major breakthrough today, our friends in low places grabbed the head of Toronto FBI, and he's singing like a bird, we have all the players.’

  ‘Will we get a list of names?’

  ‘How would you explain where they came from?’

  ‘I see your point, but we're good at hiding things from the JIC.’

  ‘Ask Tinker to get the names.’

  He nodded.‘And with the head cut off..?’

  ‘The players will see it on the news and panic, run and hide, expecting their bosses to give them up.’

  My phone trilled, Miller. ‘Canadian police just found the head of Toronto FBI, at least parts of him. It just hit the news here.’

  ‘Good, a message to be sent. Got to go.’ I cut the call and faced the Director. ‘Head of Toronto FBI, they've found parts of him, news will hit Stateside.’

  ‘And the main players will be worried.’

  ‘I tipped off the Pentagon about a colonel linked in, and American Deep State now know about the key players in the FBI.’

  ‘And the uranium waste?’

  ‘Was destined for the Middle East, to be planted somewhere to start a conflict maybe.’

  He shook his head. ‘The American military industrial complex in action. They need conflict to sell weapons and to keep the boys in jobs.’

  I nodded. ‘When you sell windows, you pay someone to go around and break windows now and then.’

  With the Director gone I had a meal in the busy canteen, many men displaying wounds. Monster had a head wound, Parker had his arm in a sling.

  After the meal I had all of the American Wolves assemble outside the canteen. Those at the front were told to kneel, they were a big group, MPs behind me and wary.

  ‘Listen up! One of your fellow Wolves was recruited by men he thought were the CIA, but he was fed a lie, and he finally agreed to try and kill me for the men he thought were CIA. But they were not CIA, and the CIA does not want me dead, I work closely with them every day.

  ‘It's possible that some of you will be approached when back in the States, and offered work with the CIA -'

  A Wolf raised his hand. ‘Sir, I had a visit from the CIA, said I could work with them in a few years. Colonel ordered me not to say anything to anyone.’

  I waved him out, the Wolf captain closing in. ‘Anyone else?’

  They exchanged looks, but no one else came forwards, the recruit detailing for the captain when and where he met the CIA, which army officers were present or knew about it. I stepped away and called Miller's number and left the detail.

  Back with the Wolves, I began, ‘It would be easy enough for men pretending to be CIA to get your senior officers back home to order you to cooperate. You need to think for yourselves, and to trust those you know are genuine. Some of you will work with the CIA, that's why you were recruited, but they won't approach you yet, you'll get more training and selection first.

  ‘If you are approached, smile nicely, agree too everything, then tell your officers about it. If the men are genuine you will not be punished for telling your captain. And it always pays to be suspicious in this game.

  ‘You'll have a day off today, but always walk around in groups, and tomorrow you start again with the training. And if you get freaked out by explosions here, and the dangers here, then you best quit and go get a job in fucking MacDonald's.’

  After taking the meds that Doc Willy insisted upon I fell asleep for a few hours. Downstairs, at 9pm, the Brigadier stepped in, many men sat around, many more on patrol outside.

  ‘You working late, sir?’

  ‘A lot to do. Anyway, I thought that now that the MOD had agreed to buy the land behind us that we have huts there, a canteen, and a visitors base and a regular base, fence and gate between them.’

  ‘Sounds good, sir. That road north..?’

  ‘They'll finish it soon, weather permitting, and we can avoid the village. And that brings me onto our next issue, the villagers.’

  ‘They up in arms, sir?’

  ‘They are, and they want compensation, many wanting to sell.’

  I lifted a hand to him, lifted my phone and called Bob Staines. ‘Listen, local villagers are not happy, many wanting to sell and move away. Buy up the houses for a good price, and fast, rent them back to the MOD.’

  ‘I can get that sorted quickly, I have a British solicitor with no track back, and he thinks I'm still with SIS.’

  Phone down, the Brigadier asked, ‘Who was that?’

  ‘I
ntel. They'll buy the houses and rent them back to us.’

  ‘Well, that will fix the problem for many, and the local member of parliament is on our case as well.’

  I sent for Robby, I had seen him walk past. When he stepped in, armed for war, I told him, ‘MOD will buy up any houses that people in the village want to sell. So have your wife go chat to them all and let them know. And they'll get good prices for the houses, a quick sale.’

  ‘That'll get a few old fuckers off my case. Like twenty of them want to sell, right old bunch of wingers.’

  ‘Go spread the word please.’

  He stepped out.

  The Brigadier sipped his tea. ‘Had a lot of reaction from the army, many soldiers wanting to come here and defend you.’

  ‘Good to know, but we're up against spies more than men on the wire.’

  Major Thistle stepped in, replacement for Major Chalmers in ‘D' Squadron. He saluted the brigadier, and sat. ‘I have a room in a hut for a few days.’

  ‘What the hell for?’ I puzzled.

  ‘MOD is screaming about the security here, threats made against the Regiment along the lines of – if you can't defend GL4 what use are you to us?’

  ‘As I just told the Brigadier, we're up against expert spies, not foot soldiers. Besides, the Americans know who's behind it and … this should be sorted by morning, the key players dealt with or arrested.’

  ‘Dealt with?’

  ‘Some won't make it to a police cell,’ I told him. ‘They know too much.’

  ‘Jesus. And all this shit is being caused by them?’

  ‘As with the Belgian bank and Lord Michaels, there are groups out there that want to run the world their way, no question of the voters’ choice. They work behind closed doors.’

  ‘More of those shits.’

  I told them, ‘There will always be men out there who think they know best, and that our politicians can't be trusted. But those politicians get elected, deselected, reported on in the media, and are answerable to parliament. Parliament has checks and balances, secret groups don't.’

  ‘Don't know how you stomach them.’

  ‘I don't stomach them, I try hard to kill the fuckers. And you don't see a lot of the people I deal with quietly, and we deal with them quietly because all this shit is very bad for the country, and for our peaceful democracy. If the full truth was out there we'd have disquiet in the streets.’

  He shook his head. ‘Rather you than me, my life is straight-forwards enough with the soldiering.’

  ‘Be positive,’ I told them. ‘We dealt with the Belgian bank, its subsidiaries, with Lord Michaels, with the idiots behind the cruise missiles. The world could soon be a quieter place.’

  My phone went. ‘It's David, and the head of the FBI's counter-terrorism unit was just killed in a traffic accident outside Washington, a truck hit his car and burst into flames. He and his bodyguards were roasted alive, the truck's driver nowhere to be found.’

  ‘Sounds painful. But one less player out there.’

  Phone down, I told them, ‘A key player, perhaps the main man himself, just died in a car accident.’

  ‘No accident, I bet,’ Major Thistle noted.

  ‘I sincerely hope not, because that would mean that God is on my side, and then I'd have to say some prayers and thank yous.’

  The Brigadier noted, ‘I'm sure that God is on your side, he keeps nudging that bullet away from you.’

  ‘I'll ask him for less people shooting at me next month.’

  Henri stepped in, and smiled theatrically, his new teeth seen, many men clapping and jeering and taking the piss. The Brigadier stood and had a good look. ‘When they know who I am they can do no more for me, and I get discount. They even give me injection in leg for the pain.’

  ‘Don't damage those fucking teeth!' I warned him, wagging a finger. ‘Wear a metal cover over them or something.’

  ‘Tomorrow I ‘av the lessons on being a captain, so I sit quiet like a schoolboy.’

  ‘I'd have no issue with giving you a troop of your own.’

  ‘The French Army, they ask – if they can have more men here.’

  ‘No! One extra man, only if you know him.’

  ‘Then I know a sergeant, yes.’

  ‘Invite him over. What do they say about Sambo?’

  He shrugged. ‘The Legion, they boast of men with us, very proud.’

  The Brigadier faced him. ‘They always boast of twenty men here. I don't see twenty men here!'

  ‘Sambo, he eats for twenty men, sir,’ Henri responded, men in the room laughing, the Brigadier shaking his head.

  I decided not to use the armoury, but to risk it, and went to bed in my room in the Officers Mess, the night passing without loud bangs nor shots fired, but I was sure I heard a fox cry out.

  After breakfast I learnt that our DOD double-agent had been dumped outside a hospital in Washington, knee-caps shot out, fingers cut off. He would find the remainder of his life to be troublesome, not least walking to his favourite KFC and eating with his fingers.

  Tiny had tortured our Russian after killing six bodyguards with her M4, but she did have help from Car 55 and a team of good men. She was now after a Russian/Czech businessman; casinos and hookers. Given what was on the news I figured that the man would be cautious and hiding.

  At 11am an RAF helicopter landed, a man in a suit out with two MPs. It turned out to be the American Ambassador. I welcomed him into the Officers Mess, the window being replaced, coffee made as the Brigadier and Sanderson were sent for, a few men sent out of the Officers Mess.

  I introduced the Brigadier and Sanderson, and we all sat.

  ‘President wanted to extend his apologies personally, so too the Pentagon, who are beyond enraged. Lot of people in the Pentagon with five o'clock shadows, they've been busy with … internal security matters they said.’

  ‘A colonel was uncovered, talking to Terotski,’ I told him.

  ‘Jesus. What the hell is the world coming to?’

  ‘We had Lord Michaels, you … you have your own little shits to deal with. But I can say that … your bosses now know who most of the little shits are, and … hopefully things will go quiet.’

  ‘It ain't quiet on the news,’ he emphasised. ‘The link with Senator Phillson has people worried, and we're back to the JFK assassination.’

  The Brigadier noted with a wistful sigh, ‘Powerful men meeting in secret behind closed doors.’

  ‘A recipe for trouble,’ Sanderson put in.

  ‘I figured we were beyond all that,’ the ambassador noted. ‘Obviously not.’

  ‘I'll put out a statement on Reuters, for the American media, no blame for the Pentagon or the White House.’

  ‘You're not mad at us?’

  ‘No. Lord Michaels was home-grown, and we have enough of our own little shits up to no good. One government officer, he sent details of my daughter to a drug gang, in the hope they would kidnap her.’

  ‘What happened to that man?’ Sanderson asked.

  ‘He met with an accident,’ I coldly stated. ‘No messy public trail, no blaming the institutions for the actions of one man.’

  He nodded. ‘Just as well. Enough disquiet out there, a lack of trust of those that should be able to protect its citizens.’

  The ambassador noted, ‘A great many unanswered questions Stateside, starting with Senator Phillson, and ending with the uranium, still no arrests.’

  I told him, ‘I doubt there will be many arrests. I think … those of your colleagues Stateside with a vested interest will try and keep it quiet, as they often do. So your conspiracy theorists will get to write a few more of those novels, and not just about Area 51 and aliens.’

  ‘I'd swap for aliens right now, be easier to deal with!'

  With the ambassador gone I sat down and wrote a page of notes, checked it over and then called Max to release it on Reuters.

  ‘Since the assassination of JFK, America has had its conspiracy theories, some based in fact
, most just fantasy. What we have seen in recent weeks was a genuine conspiracy, but it was not politically motivated, and ideology had nothing to do with it.

  ‘Powerful and rich men, men in top positions, met in secret to plot, and those men were responsible for cruise missiles being handed to people like the FARC. But the people of America need to realise that it was not ideology nor politics that motivated them, it was simply money, and the men used the title of The MOB.

  ‘The MOB were interested in killing cartel leaders with cruise missiles in order to sell their own drugs, tainted drugs, millions of Americans due to fall sick. They did not care.

  ‘The same MOB were linked to the Belgian bank, to Lord Michaels in London, to Terotski, and to a long list of crimes, murders, terrorist attacks, and most recently to the uranium ore, its purpose still unknown to us.

  ‘The people of America, the lower ranks of FBI and the CIA, Congress and the Senate, need to realise that this was about money, grubby little men seeking riches, not to re-shape the world.

  ‘FBI Agent Manstein wanted money, so too his co-conspirators, they wanted the Central American drugs trade for themselves. If they had been politically motivated to try and destroy the cartels we could have understood them, even agreed with them and had some respect for them. But it was about greed, and getting rich.

  ‘There will always be rich and powerful men meeting in secret behind closed doors, up to no good, and such groups come and go as the years roll on. What remains are the institutions, the FBI and the CIA, their job is to try and spot these men and to stop them running amok.

  ‘There have been complaints in America about the lack of progress and the lack of arrests made. I can assure the people of America that those who fight and die for them have been hard at work, people dealt with, gangs broken up, plots halted.

  ‘You have laws and procedures, but the MOB are above the law and beyond extradition. The hard working men and women of the CIA have been busy, they have neutralised the threat and taken away the tools that the MOB wanted to use, and I am happy that we've made good progress in recent weeks.

  ‘I do not blame America for the attacks made upon me, since you are not responsible for a handful of criminals. The FBI as an institution should not be tarnished by a small group of men linked to the MOB, and the CIA is not to blame when ex-CIA agents join the MOB for some extra money in retirement.