Wilco- Lone Wolf 21

by Geoff Wolak

‘What the fuck does mostly mean?’ Swifty challenged.

  ‘Won't stop an Elephant Gun, so don't piss off your snipers. It will stop most everything else.’

  ‘They checked for bombs?’ Swifty asked.

  Graveson explained, ‘They did, sniffer dogs, CT police, and then Rocko and Stretch did the final inspection before the door was locked yesterday. They checked for bugs as well.’

  I told him. ‘Assuming that the people checking for bugs can be trusted.’

  ‘Tinker did a sweep after them, some clever gizmo.’

  ‘Then we should be bug free. I hope.’ I got the kettle on after checking it for bombs.

  Sat in the lounge, TV news on, Swifty noted, ‘My TV made it.’

  ‘Still a bit funny in the bottom corner.’

  ‘Smells odd,’ Nurse Sarah noted. ‘Like a new apartment.’ She faced me. ‘You'll sleep in your old bed?’

  ‘My newly replaced old bed, yes, that ain't the same one,’ I told her.

  ‘So where do I sleep?’

  ‘You best check if you're still assigned to me, because they can see I'm up and walking around. Use the small room for now.’

  ‘I'll ask Mister Morten today, but I am due to rotate here for range cover.’

  ‘Regular SAS gone?’ Swifty puzzled. ‘Didn't see any.’

  ‘Waste of time them being here anyhow,’ I scoffed.

  After a brew I left them to unpack and I walked over to the hangar with Graveson, in need of a leg stretch after the flight. The original huts next to the canteen were now gone, holes left behind, the special green fencing now around the canteen, a wide space left at the front, sandbag-style slit trenches inside the fence.

  The big Wolves recreational shed was now an L-shape, joining the brick building that would be our base bar, men seen hard at work. I had a nose inside, and the new shed had high tables and chairs around the outside, high benches down the middle for men to rest drinks on, and at one end stood a door to the original metal shed, beyond four toilets.

  This shed had been designed to hold many men, all stood up or on the high stools, and was obviously not designed for people eating. At the far end stood a wide hole in the brick building being attended now by Army engineers, a wooden bar already fitted.

  Through the hole, men nodded at and smiled at, I could see silver ovens being fitted, so the place would serve food. At the far side I stepped through another hole being worked on, and into another new shed, this one offering a great many tables and seats, and against the walls stood partitions like a diner, so men could eat and chat in peace.

  At the far end rested six new sofas still in their plastic, coffee tables upright against a wall, then a set of four toilets.

  Rocko stepped in. ‘You're back then.’

  ‘It was nice and sunny and warm,’ I told him.

  ‘Yeah, well this place ain't.’ He pointed. ‘This will be for food, but mostly NCOs and officers, and visitors like that. But the Brigadier ain't sure if visitors using the range should come in here.’

  ‘I'd say no, unless just the senior staff, no fucking squaddies!'

  ‘They'd wreck the place, yeah. Gunna have sandbags on the outside, just in case. Fence is up out the back, manned gate, so the base is split now. MPs will keep the farmhouse, big old mud wall around it, and that wall goes around the old huts they moved and some new huts, so it can hold a hundred men well enough.

  ‘Got a canteen shed as well, and the cooks from Brize Norton will operate it, but only when range days and visitors are planned, not all time like, closed at 7pm.’

  I nodded as I took in the new shed, men hammering earnestly in the bar. ‘What kind of food will the pub landlord put on?’

  ‘Anything we ask for, so … like now, plus his curry.’

  ‘I'll give him a few quid, and once a week we can have something nice, Chinese or Indian. Can't risk taking the lads out. Any problems here?’

  ‘No, because you weren't here!'

  ‘Meaning what?’ I feigned.

  ‘Meaning they want to kill you, not us hard-working enlisted men. You had some attacks in Mauritania?’

  ‘Hardly. Four old men with rifles from the First World War.’

  ‘Our lads in Kosovo shot up like fifty people yesterday.’

  I was shocked. ‘They did?’

  ‘Two incidents. In the papers this morning.’

  ‘KLA or Serbs?’

  ‘One was KLA, one was Serbs. Papers make them both look as bad as each other.’

  ‘That was what I wanted, hence we're supposed to be peacekeepers.’

  ‘Place seems to be a fucking cesspool, leave them to it!'

  ‘We have our orders,’ I told him with a sigh. ‘SAS gone?’

  ‘A few days back, after bitching at length. Still, they got some range time in. 14 Intel just turned up, and Stiffy is back.’

  ‘So a full base then.’

  ‘No Yanks back with you?’

  ‘No, all off for a break, but we will have the officer Wolves soon, forty of them. And the American Wolves have completed the courses, so they'll go off and do whatever it is the White House wants them for.’

  ‘We keep Murphy? Because he reported he shot some parmesans! And I think that's a cheese!'

  I smiled widely. ‘He's my best man in the Ballicks, as he put it. Still, he's as literate as Rizzo.’

  Inside the hangar I noted the sandbag wall, a quick chat to the MP at the base of the steps in his new sandbag bunker, a seat available to him.

  ‘Shot a rat last night, third one.’

  ‘Gives you something to do. I shot one in our squadron home in Bosnia, big as a cat.’

  ‘This was a big one. RAF facilities officers says there are man-made tunnels here for the pipes. The rats use them, so he's going to put some barriers in. They go back and forth towards the canal, and some of the lads fishing said they saw rats going in and out of tunnels in the banks.’

  ‘Well, that's where rats originally lived. Riverbanks not sewers.’

  Upstairs I sat with Billy for twenty minutes, a catch-up on the paperwork and a chat about the new facilities. He had been getting massages daily and was feeling better, less pain when sitting too long.

  In the Intel Room, Captain Perky told me with a grin, ‘Your man Murphy, he reported shooting some parmesans.’

  I nodded, and pointed at the map table. ‘Major Harris, update the cheese board.’

  They laughed loudly as Sanderson stepped out. ‘Any wounds?’

  ‘Two Wolves with sprained ankles I think, one sprained wrist.’

  ‘And some locals shooting at you?’

  ‘Some local pensioners, with .303 rifles and two rounds of ammo each, and sandals. We won't be going to war over it.’

  ‘Get much done?’

  ‘All the American Wolves tried a HALO bag drop plus a set scenario, so they're finished with us. All of the British Wolves got a few drops and some HALO to add to their files, some very long walks.’

  ‘These new 14 Intel lads?’ Harris asked.

  ‘So far they're holding up, no issues. I dropped them a hundred miles out, two days at fifty miles a day to get back. They seem solid so far.’

  ‘And that new kid, Stickler?’ Harris asked.

  ‘Is as good as we thought, no problems surfacing, and he gets along with the lads.’

  Sanderson asked, ‘Are they all healed up and signed off?’

  ‘I think we should have the medics check them all, but I think they're all just about ready to get back to it. Need some fitness work maybe.’

  ‘So Kosovo is next?’ Sanderson pressed.

  ‘Well … it's up in the air, and we await a political decision, when the politicians can decide just what it is we're supposed to be doing that is.’

  ‘Like supporting these idiot KLA men?’ Harris put in. ‘They're all over the news here, and in the States.’

  ‘As I said, we wait on the politicians.’

  ‘No plans to send more men in yet?’ Sanderson nudged.r />
  ‘I'm up to London soon, so I'll ask. Besides, we need time to heal and get fitness back, so a delay is OK with me.’

  Tinker stepped out. ‘We got another hit on the CIA list, a more senior man. They know already, we sent it through.’

  ‘Linked in, or dirty?’

  ‘Very dirty. Calls to Colombia and Nicaragua, and a ship.’

  I took in their faces. ‘That's gunna hurt.’ Outside, I called SIS and asked to be put through to the CIA Station Chief.

  ‘Wilco?’

  ‘Yeah. How's life?’

  ‘You know damn well how it is.’

  ‘Will you deal with the matter quietly?’

  ‘We'll try, but he's got family connections, sister is married to a Congressman.’

  ‘Has he said anything?’

  ‘Just that he's a patriot and we're in a war and losing.’

  ‘We're in a war with idiots like him conspiring behind closed doors.’

  ‘Well, he thinks he was doing the right thing. It's up to those above me now.’

  ‘If this guy assisted in the attempts on me...’

  ‘He'll be Stateside tonight, and in facility, so you'd find it hard to get to him.’

  ‘I want his British connections, or I'm going to get upset about it.’

  ‘We're running all his meets now, local haunts, everything.’

  ‘When you have a list, let GCHQ run a proximity hit, time and date, see who was in the cafe with him. Might catch a fish.’

  ‘We'll cooperate, yes, that database is damn useful.’

  ‘If you have a list of your people around the world, run them without the names, see what turns up. I think your Middle East section would light up.’

  ‘Meaning … what?’

  ‘Meaning … run their phones and locations and see.’

  ‘I'll mention that up the line. I'd like to know as well how far this goes.’

  ‘How far? It goes right around the globe and then comes back to bite you on the arse. Better to deal with them all now.’

  The next day I packed a bag, suit on, holster on, and booked my usual hotel, Mi5 to supply a team, the CT police to sit outside, Graveson to mind me and be in the next room.

  I had been in my room half an hour, Graveson next door, when a knock came. Through the peep-hole I could see black hair on a lady with a trolley, and with pistol in hand I opened up.

  ‘Expecting trouble?’ Tiny asked me as she stared down the barrel.

  ‘Have you seen what they charge here for room service?’ I teased. I held the door wide. ‘And that's without the happy ending.’

  Trolley and maid inside, I closed the door and put the chain on, pistol down as Tiny took her wig off. ‘Is the real maid still alive?’

  ‘I had this delivered to me, dummy, four doors down. Waited till she went.’ Shoes kicked off, she jumped up onto the bed and gave me a hug, my face in her cleavage.

  ‘I missed these little things.’

  ‘They're proportionate to my size. With huge boobs I'd fall over. Best eat the food whilst it's hot.’

  I helped her down and we sat, the breakfast meal in late afternoon picked at as we chatted about all that she had been up to. The trail had run cold with our Russian in Prague, just phone numbers to follow-up, but whoever had controlled the Russian in Prague was the careful sort.

  Still, Tiny had found a garage full of stolen BMWs with no plates, and she had called Interpol with a code word and was due a good reward. She had also liberated some cash and some jewellery.

  With some of the meal eaten we stripped off, a good look taken at my stitches as we showered, sex on the bed, a slow session followed by a hug, a 7pm hug.

  With her head on my chest, she asked, ‘How was Mauritania?’

  ‘We got the American Wolves through the HALO bag technique, and that's what we were there for. Other teams had a few drops, long walks back.’

  ‘And my lot?’

  ‘Had their own courses to attend, spy stuff I guess. But they have four new men, and they seem like superstars so far, all suitable for No.1 Field Recon.’

  ‘And the wounded from that bomb blast?’

  ‘All OK now, save the dead of course, and a Wolf with a chest wound, but he'll come back to us. Base has a new internal bar so that the lads don't go outside.’

  ‘One bomb in that bar and they get fifty men.’

  ‘Exactly, so now we keep them out that pub, but the owner of the pub will run the base bar,’ I explained.

  ‘And we know who all the FBI players were?’

  ‘I doubt it, they'd been in operation for years, and we don't know who bankrolled them. How's your apartment?’

  ‘I was a bit bored in there, but then I was busy and glad to get back to it afterwards, and to just shut the door on the world and have a nice hot bath, pistol on a table.’

  ‘Welcome to my life. People think I'm paranoid, then my house gets blown up.’

  ‘Where you living?’

  ‘We were in the Officers Mess, now back in the house, but it smells funny, new carpet and fresh paint.’

  ‘And that nurse?’

  ‘Still with Swifty, yes, a secret couple – like us.’

  ‘They know about us?’

  ‘I denied it well, and for good reason; someone would come after you.’

  ‘Let them try. I'll cut their balls off.’

  ‘For most people that's a metaphorical threat, not for you I suspect. And that nurse, someone tried to rape her last year, so she smashed his face against railings twenty times. Swifty will have to be careful and not upset her.’

  ‘Salome still flaunting it?’

  ‘Yep. But in Mauritania we had your twin turn up.’

  ‘My what?’

  ‘Lady RAF doctor, same size as you, and cute.’

  She lifted her gaze. ‘You should know by now to avoid lady doctors.’

  I laughed. ‘I do.’

  ‘I met Maria a few times, she's good looking, big boobs.’

  ‘What's Bob been doing with her?’

  ‘She had some money, a place to live, some training, then some simple tests, pickpocket training, dead letter drop, then a few real jobs but straight-forwards, to test her. She had a phone, and Tinker has been tracking her and running something.’

  ‘Proximity hits.’

  ‘Yeah, that's it. So far she's clean, not trying to contact her old bosses.’

  ‘You killed her old bosses!'

  ‘I may not have told her that.’

  I laughed. ‘It's what women chat about over coffee.’

  ‘I spoke to her at length, and she's a bit lost, needs a niche or a team. Bit of a drifter. But we got her old pattern in Sierra Leone, killed three locals who were assisting her, spying on the airport.’

  ‘That's something I guess. But they probably worked for money more than ideology. The ones with the political agenda are the nutcases.’

  My phone trilled. ‘Sshhhhh,’ I told her. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘It's David. You're here in London?’

  ‘Yes, at the hotel, just had a bite then invited in a few supermodels for sex.’

  ‘Ha. Well the CIA have an issue, and now it's a loud issue. They arrested a man after CGHQ got the link, and this chap has a brother who's a Congressman.’

  ‘The Station Chief told me, yes.’

  ‘Well the news just hit Stateside, but what you may not know is that this man is linked to our Wolf with a bomb, so they're saying he's complicit in the attack on you, and the media there wants blood, his in-law the Congressman inundated and unable to get out his office. And, wait for it, the Congressman has just been linked in.’

  ‘Shit … talk about keeping it in the family. Best check the wife as well and what she has in her closet.’

  ‘I think they will, there are a million reporters outside his home. They're labelling the Congressman as working for the Mob, your doing, but a good smokescreen for you know who. Media here just picked up on it, and the PM wants the man to stand trial h
ere.’

  ‘What has the PM said about Kosovo?’

  ‘That we look more like peacekeepers if we don't take sides, yes.’

  ‘How about I meet the Serb ambassador tomorrow?’

  ‘What in blazes for?’

  ‘Maybe we can avoid some bloodshed, and if I threaten to take all my men into Kosovo he'll sit up and listen. Since the papers already suggest that, we're not giving anything away.’

  ‘I'll have to check with the PM -'

  ‘I hurt the Serbs before, and maybe they deserved it given the massacres, but these are foot soldiers being told what to do, so if we can avoid a fight then all the better. And I did read what the Russian President said in the Times, and right now Russia is unstable but angry and with a stupid drunk in charge.’

  ‘You are indeed a pragmatist.’

  ‘That's what No.1 said. So ask about me meeting the Serb Ambassador, and I'll get rid of my supermodels.’

  ‘I'll let you know tomorrow. Enjoy the TV tonight.’

  Call ended, I explained it to Tiny.

  ‘What'll you say to the ambassador?’

  ‘Would you send men into those woods knowing that I had my full team with me?’

  ‘You wiped them out last time, just one of you, so they'll be terrified of a hundred of you. But how does a British Wolf rate, against your younger self?’

  ‘As good, if not better; they've benefited from my training, specialist clothing and kit. They'd each take on a company of Serbs without fear, hit and run tactics. I taught them about dog evasion, killing the dogs, and they all enjoy the challenges.’

  I woke Tiny at 5am to much complaining, a morning shag given to a sleepy girl before I booted her out and back to her own room, where she would go back to bed for another six or seven hours.

  Graveson knocked at 8am and came in. ‘What did you have last night, I had the steak with pepper sauce?’

  ‘A breakfast, and pudding, and a tall blonde in here.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  I led him down for another breakfast, a slow coffee as the Mi5 minders sat pretending to sup their own coffees. At 10am we reached the MOD building in convoy, soon inside and signing in.

  ‘Morning Clarence!' I loudly greeted, eight people laughing loudly as the sour-faced “C.Lawrence” stared back at me.

  ‘Hope you are well this week,’ he carefully stated, making it sound like he wanted me dead.