by Geoff Wolak
Wilco:
Lone Wolf
Book 12
Copyright © Geoff Wolak
Started January, 2014
This book is historically very accurate in places, technically correct for the most part, yet it is fiction, really fiction, definitely fiction, and any similarity to real people or real events – although accidental - is probably intentional. Some characters in this book may be based on some of the wankers I have either worked with or unfortunately met over the years.
www.geoffwolak-writing.com
Sins can be forgiven
We got back from Morocco to be welcomed by some damp English countryside, and to find that it had not changed any – it was still green and damp. Morocco had been a fudge, a way to cover my absence whilst I was in Zurich. Hunt knew I was acting oddly, a four day trip into the desert for the French – all top secret and not to be discussed with London, but I had not discussed Zurich with David, and Hunt had not discussed my odd behaviour with him either. Hunt suspected something, and he was sure that David suspected something as well.
After a good night’s sleep I was summoned, the Regimental helicopter taking me up to London with a few captains from Credenhill heading to an intel briefing, and they were in awe of me. They all looked young and fresh-faced. I told them I was on my way to London for some shopping.
I was met off the helicopter and driven in to Vauxhall, plenty of protection afforded to me from some of the first batch of coppers I had trained, the gossip caught up on. They now had a few VIP bodyguard jobs taken off the SBS, as well as off my “E” Squadron old timers.
I was taken up in the posh lift by David’s assistant, Bob Staines old assistant, a chat about Somalia and Morocco, led in to the Director’s side office, a large oval table being the dominant feature in a Spartan room. In the room I found David and the Director, plus a new face.
The new man shook my hand firmly. ‘Paul McManners. We’ve met before, at least we’ve passed in the corridor and rubbed shoulders.’ He was a pleasant faced forty-year-old with some danger evident behind a pair of intense eyes.
We grabbed teas, and sat.
‘No injuries?’ the Director asked me.
‘I’m fine, thanks.’
‘Paul will be replacing David as Head of Operations, and David will resume his Deputy Director role.’
‘More pay?’ I teased.
David smiled. ‘My pay was held level.’
‘Did I give you sleepless nights?’ I teased.
The Director put in, ‘You give us all sleepless nights. And talking of sleepless nights, do you have any take on the dead Saudi family in Zurich?’
‘Never been to Zurich – I hear it’s nice in the spring, but I did read about it in the papers. Was he ... mixed up in something bad?’
‘Rumour has it ... he paid for the missiles that killed the men of Desert Sands.’
‘In that case ... fuck him, and his family.’ I held my stare on her.
David began, ‘Zurich police have a Lebanese shooter, his prints on the rifle and the bullet casings, but our people in Interpol say they’re not convinced that the Lebanese chap was the shooter, and there must have been others involved since the poor Lebanese chap didn’t shoot himself in the back of the head three times.’
‘Do the Zurich police have anything else?’ I asked.
‘A van with fake plates, not traced, driven by a black man, no clear image or description, and ... that’s about it, save the curious use of a Valmet long-casing rifle. They traced it back to Valmet, to a fake buyer, the rifle bought locally with cash, it was not from the consignment we bought thankfully.’
‘There you go, some unhappy Finish chap shot that Saudi fella,’ I flippantly suggested. ‘But given that he was shot with a Valmet, and Desert Sands used Valmets, I guess someone wanted to send a message.’
‘Indeed,’ David noted, Paul studying me carefully.
The Director put in, ‘The Saudis are reeling from the news, because the link to the Lebanese arms-dealer was clear, a payment trail, and that arms-dealer has been linked to Somalia and Yemen - and Eritrea. But the Americans have denied the link, for obvious reasons. Unfortunately, the Saudis are offering large rewards for information.’
‘Why ... unfortunately? Do you know who was involved? Got any evidence?’
‘No evidence at all,’ she noted. ‘Although, given that revenge could have been a motive for you and your team, some have suggested you could have been involved.’
‘My team were all accounted for, in Morocco. Do you have any evidence of me flying to Zurich with a few heavily armed men, rifles in hand?’
‘No, none, but I don’t doubt you could have got there and back without even us knowing about it.’
‘If you’re asking me if I was involved ... I deny it, and always will, so put up or shut up.’
She blinked, and stared back, David stiffening.
‘Moving on,’ Paul began, breaking the frosty silence. ‘Your chat to the CIA Mid East Chief had an effect, so too your story in the press about us losing the war on terror. Those of us on this side of the desk were quietly delighted, so ... keep blabbing to the press by all means.
‘What has happened ... is that various American groups have come up with a plan after studying our Lone Wolf programme, and they’ll create a programme whether the White House likes it or not, not that they need permission for small unit adjustments.
‘The Americans have our profiling details, and notes that Samantha Hedge put together on the Wolves, and they’re finding men, men taken from all branches of the military – a dramatic alteration to previous American military policy, and the new unit will have military parentage yet will answer to Military Intelligence, E Ring, your friend Colonel Mathews involved.
‘The Military Intel part is a fudge to keep it away from an oversight committee, it will answer to the E Ring and the CIA, a bit like Echo does here. Given your track record they’ve asked that you not only advise but get actively involved. Are you ... happy to do that?’
‘Why don’t you tell me what you want done, then I go do it.’
He stared back. ‘We’ll always consult with you-’
‘Why? I’m a captain, I draw a salary as one. Tell me what you want.’
He exchanged a look with the others. ‘We want to keep the Americans onboard and helping out, as ever, so we’d like you to assist them.’
‘Fine. Don’t be afraid to give me assignments.’
‘Well, there are a few politicians that don’t like the idea that we give you instructions, but think we ask Colonel Dean nicely for his assistance through the UKSF Directorate, so it’s a grey area. Technically, we’re not allowed to order you around.’
‘I understand that, but when it’s just us behind closed doors ... screw the Select Committee.’ I sipped my tea.
Paul added, ‘Colonel Mathews will be here in an hour with the man you met in Kenya, Chakovsky.’
I nodded. ‘Time enough to discuss something else.’ I sipped my tea. ‘When I was in Morocco I thought about something that I’ve thought about a lot since Northern Ireland, this issue of stretching the law.’ I focused on David. ‘You have the money in the Cayman Islands account, from Tomsk?’
‘Yes, now over a hundred million with the gold payment. He does seem to be an oddly generous benefactor where you’re concerned.’
I nodded. ‘I’d like to bring Bob Staines back into the game.’
‘Bob!’ three people asked at the same time.
I eased forwards, ‘What has always struck me ... is the legality of what I do, and ... facing Select Committees. But what if there was an organisation outside the law, unknown, yet well funded, well staffed, and it handled the things that were illegal, and Army c
aptains like me did the legal stuff, at least on paper.
‘What if people like the French and the Americans lent men to it, people like Tomsk and The Banker involved. An office, a phone, a bank account, equipment, fake papers. If I was to do something that the select committee here wouldn’t like, then this outside agency runs it, I disappear for a few days on holiday and return, no paper trail in this office, nothing at all, no signed requisition for a car, a plane, weapons.
‘What I’ve done, what Bob started, was a move down a road that led us to where we are today, with Tomsk, The Banker, Libintov, with the French cooperating on jobs. The network is illegal as far as UK laws go, yet the network is a huge intelligence coup, and it saves lives. In Somalia, I picked up the phone and had Libintov drop off weapons. During my first incursion to Somalia Tomsk rang and warned me about the ambush – not you lot.
‘So that network is a valued asset, and that network needs an office and a desk and someone running it, and if he gets caught he’s outside the UK and outside the usual channels so you’re not to blame, no paper trail back here.’
Paul asked, ‘How exactly would it work?’
‘On behalf of the Americans, I asked The Banker to dispose of Belchov, and he did, no evidence left behind. What I’m suggesting is that we have a layer in the middle. I call a man, he calls The Banker, the job gets done, no track back here. You need a job done, you call that man, he calls another man and gets the job done, we all stay out of prison a little longer.’
Paul eased forwards, ‘What you’re suggesting ... is what everyone in this room has considered a hundred times over since day one, just that we’ve never done it. Now, today, your network already exists, and it works – it works well, you’re simply suggesting an office and secretary and some new carpet.’ He faced the Director and waited.
She began, ‘We’ve all considered it, and from time to the time the CIA has actually done it in a small way, and MOSSAD has a company with freelancers in it who don’t appreciate who they’re working for, it’s nothing new, but your network is new – and never seen before. You think Bob Staines is suited?’
‘I know him and trust him, vices aside. He could help. Other staff would be nominated by Tomsk and The Banker. Bob would have several sat phones, changed often, and he could be anywhere in the world. And that Cayman Islands bank account would be the start funding.’
David asked, ‘What do you personally hope to achieve from such a new venture?’
‘I hope to stay out of prison! Dodgy operations get handled somewhere beyond a Select Committee and your auditors. Plus ... plus we all know there are men and organisations working against our best interests, yet are beyond reach.’
‘Such as our dead Saudi,’ the Director noted.
‘Exactly,’ I sarcastically agreed. ‘If this new organisation was to get the blame for his untimely demise ... that would suit all the interested parties, and it could house a few ... Lone Wolves.’
They exchanged looks.
‘How would you get it started?’ the Director asked.
‘Get Bob to call me, and when I say ... you send all the money in that Cayman’s Island account back to Tomsk and close it down. Leave the rest to me. If you have a job that needs doing you call me, I call him, it gets done. And no, don’t discuss it with the Cabinet Office or the Prime Minister.’
Paul began, ‘All we’re doing is refunding money put into our account by mistake. Rest we’re not responsible for.’
I told them, ‘This way is less risky than you asking me to do something dodgy, as I did for Bob from time to time. I made a few messes go away on UK soil, something that gives me the odd sleepless night.’
David put in, ‘All our rotten eggs in one basket, and sub-contracted offshore.’
The Director turned her head to David. ‘Get Bob Staines to call that Petrov chap. And this conversation never took place. And when things are ready there’s a certain politician that needs discrediting.’
Paul turned to her. ‘Him. Yes.’
After a sandwich, and a chat to Paul about operations – I was to call him “Mac’’ because he hated being called Paul, we met the Americans in a conference room a few floors down.
I shook hands with Colonel Mathews as he stood in uniform, then Chakovsky, the assistants introduced and greeted. Some twenty men and ladies sat around the large table, cold water dispensed, Samantha Hedge offering me a coy smile.
Colonel Mathews began, ‘Thank you all for attending, and for moving things along so quickly.’ He ran a hand over his bald plate. ‘The loss of Desert Sands was a blow, a hell of a blow, an idea wiped out in one go. I’ve since learnt that British Echo travels in separate helicopters and planes, a damned good idea when you have a great deal of time and money invested in the men.
‘Having recovered some, but not fully, I’m again keen to move this forwards, the idea that a small surgical team can make a big difference in the war against terrorists and kidnappers.’ He faced me. ‘I heard about your comments, that we’re losing this war and can’t win it. Maybe that’s true, be we sure as hell aren’t about to give up trying to win.
‘Desert Sands came about after Captain Mahoney had spent two years with you, two years of almost constant fighting, rescue after rescue around Africa. He got the experience and he trained and led his team. That has now been lost, a lesson to learn for us all.
‘More recently, I was handed the detail of the British Lone Wolf programme, and its psychology, selection and training, and I’m excited that we can copy it with similar results. And I understand very clearly the fine dividing line between a highly skilled man ... and a nut job that wants to shoot up the town festival. You did it with your Lone Wolves, we’d like to do it as well.
‘As such, we’ve been busy reorganising, but we’ve done it at a level below the White House or Congressional radar. We don’t need their permission for small units, and we’ve been profiling servicemen from many bases. We’ve also put out an advert to units for volunteers, a sniper training programme as your Lone Wolves programme appear to be.’
He took in the faces. ‘The selection will be based on fitness, an IQ above average, a lack of family commitments, an individual that is unhappy and under-utilised in his parent unit. That process has already begun, names are being collected.
‘You Brits have very kindly loaned us your shrinks, and they’re chatting to our shrinks about ... whatever the indicators are for a dangerous man. When we’re a little further along we’d like to borrow Wilco and some NCOs to assist with the selection and training process, something your government has kindly agreed to. We have a base in North Carolina -’
I shook my head at him.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Take them away from their natural environment, see who’s homesick. Your ideal man is just as at home in the desert as the States. It’s the first real test: does he call home, does he miss home?’
Several people took notes, including Mathews.
Mathews said, ‘Your boys, in the jungle?’
‘Are not thinking of home, and have never once suggested we wrap up a job quickly and get back. Wherever they lay down - it’s home.’ I turned my head to Samantha. ‘The Wolves, overall?’
‘Would rather be on a job, any job, than be back here.’
‘So step one,’ Mathews noted.
‘And when you have the team?’ I asked Mathews.
‘Then they’re available for certain types of job, your kind of job.’
I nodded, eased up and took off my jacket, forgetting I had my holster on. There was a white board, so I grabbed a marker pen, people adjusting chairs. I drew a triangle in the middle of the board. ‘Down here we have the foot soldiers, lightly armed, badly trained, badly led, but an idiot with a gun can cause panic and a lot of newspaper inches.
‘Shoot the foot soldier, and another comes around. Shoot them all, and next year they’re all replaced. Above the foot soldier is the local leader, above him the regional commander. That r
egional commander has political or religious leanings, and he’s involved with fundraising. If he’s lucky he has a benefactor, otherwise he turns to crime to fund the foot soldiers.
‘What we would like to know is ... who the commanders are, who’s funding them, what their allegiances are.’ I wrote funding on the left. On the right I wrote, ‘Weapons, facilities, training, opportunities.’
‘When they have the funding, they buy weapons. They then have some training, at a base, and then ... they look for a way to make trouble for us, typically a kidnapping, or they shoot up a bus load of tourists off a cruise ship – the opportunities.
‘We then go after them, shoot the foot soldiers, sometimes we get the local commander, rarely get the regional commander, we never get the paymaster. The weapons come from certain places via intermediaries, and your CIA would love to get a handle on them all, old Russian stockpiles, or new Chinese rifles being sold.
‘So the question is ... do Lone Wolves just keep shooting the foot soldiers?’ I sat back down.
‘It needs an integrated approach,’ Chakovsky began. ‘And we have some smart fellas making drawings like that, and we’d love to go after the regional commander, but such things are rare, the intel is light – and damn hard to come by.’
‘My point is,’ I began, ‘that to win ... we need an objective. If we desire to shoot the foot soldiers, rescue hostages in deserts, then the Wolves are trained in a certain way. If you desire to go further, and have a man HALO into a nasty place and kill the main man, then that’s an extra step, a selection process for superstars.
‘I have men that will HALO deep behind the lines, sneak a hundred miles unseen, kill the main man without being seen and get back out. With some extra training they could set-up radio scanners, listen in, and find the main man. A Lone Wolf would not, as I would see the definition of a Lone Wolf.’
David put in, ‘We did notice a superstar or two, and they’ve tackled some quite difficult jobs for us with good results. But as an example, Wilco here is the superstar, plus a few of his men, quite capable of reaching a difficult target.’
