Wilco- Lone Wolf 12

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘Yes, Mister President, that is exactly what we want.’

  ‘It is?’

  ‘If American soldiers are there, the Islamists will see that as a clear provocation, and will attack the base on a regular basis, and ... we will kill them. Such a base, known to the Islamist separatists, would be an affront, and they would send their best men year after year, and we would shoot them, the benefit to you, Mister President, being that those men are not moving south to attack your police and army – at least some of them won’t be.’

  ‘And ... how long would you stay?’

  ‘As long as we were welcome, sir. We would re-supply by air, we would need no assistance from you, and we would ask that you move soldiers south and man roadblocks well south. We would patrol the northern area, an area you designate as troublesome, but we would never go near towns or villages – we are not a police force.’

  The Defence Minister put in, ‘We can move the army south, yes, a great saving for us. These terrorists put bombs in roadside cafes, very bad.’ He shook his head.

  I added, ‘We would also launch hostage rescues in Niger and Chad, from this runway.’

  ‘But there is nothing nearby?’ the President noted.

  ‘We would make a base, raise tents, fly in supplies, sir.’

  He made a face, a glance at his Defence Minister. ‘And it will be done at your government’s expense, not ours, just to be very clear.’

  Admiral Jacobs cut in, ‘Won’t cost you anything, Mister President, we just need permission.’ He handed over a document. ‘As soon as you’re in agreement we make a start.’

  ‘We are in agreement, I will have this back to you embassy very quickly, yes. Thank you for you visit today, it is most timely.’ He stood, and we followed him up, and he briskly led his team out, document in hand.

  ‘That was quick,’ Admiral Jacobs noted.

  The British Ambassador turned to me. ‘You’ll have your men there?’

  ‘I’ll have men there, lots of them, and we’ll put a large Stars and Stripes up on the entrance, waiting for some interest.’

  ‘They’ll throw everything they have at you!’

  ‘In which case, we’ll take plenty of ammo and a packed lunch,’ I told him.

  ‘So you just sit and wait to be attacked, and thin them out?’

  ‘It’s no more complicated than that.’

  ‘Plan is simple,’ Jacobs told the Ambassador. ‘Same as Vietnam. Make a base, hoist the flag, sit and wait for Charlie on the wire ... and shoot the little commie bastards.’

  I thanked the French Ambassador and shook his hand, a grin exchanged with the DGSE manager. I thanked my British Ambassador whilst still getting a mean look, and I followed the Americans back to their embassy, in through tight security.

  In a meeting room, just a few of us, Admiral Jacobs asked, ‘So what am I missing here?’

  ‘We’ll draw the fighters out, yes, but once the Nigerians give is the base we won’t give it back.’

  ‘We’ll keep it?’ Franks puzzled.

  ‘They don’t have the manpower to send soldiers to it, nor the Air Force to attack it. They can request we leave, but they sure as hell couldn’t force us out.’ I grabbed the map I had. ‘We have Mauritania, Sierra Leone, Liberia, now northern Nigeria. From those bases we can cover a wide area. And here, northern Niger on the Chad border, is a French base we can use.’

  ‘Got it all sewn up,’ Jacobs enthused. ‘US boots on the ground in four or five places when there were none a few weeks back, and no shit from the White House, no comparisons to Somalia – or to fucking Vietnam. And we have a few good news stories to boot. Oh, we got your Colonel Heubert fella.’

  ‘I was going to ask.’

  ‘Seals and Delta parachuted in, landing a few miles away, walked in. Lot of dogs, some shot with silencers, but there was a party in full swing till gone 2am, my guys jealous – they were watching it, half naked girls on tables. This idiot was not suffering any in his hideout.

  ‘After it all died down, a few people driving off, my guys moved in, shot a few more dogs, the guards all a bit drunk and sleepy. Anyhow, this colonel was recognised from an old photo, and the fact that he was in charge, and after most had gone home he takes a girl out to the golf course, strips off and tries a hole in one.’

  Captain Harris and I laughed.

  ‘He was enjoying himself when he was rudely interrupted on the green, tied up and led away, the girl led away. After that we couldn’t quite decide what to do, but we heard what you said about his boys, so we called in the choppers, and when they landed a few of the bleary-eyed knuckle-heads raised rifles and were shot dead.

  ‘My boys stormed the place, beat the crap out of a few of the party-goers, got papers, phones, left the cocaine – at least I hope they did, and withdrew, but shot up the windows and walls as they withdrew, so we made a mess, a few of the guards killed.’

  ‘A good result then,’ I commended.

  ‘Shit, I had it on Reuters before the helos landed!’

  Franks asked, ‘What about the make-up of men at this new place?’

  ‘Same as Mauritania, teams on rotation, but if we get the go-ahead soon I’ll move the Wolves and train them there. Instead of shooting paper targets it’ll be local Islamists. Six weeks there, Admiral, and their training will be finished.’

  ‘Six weeks of sand, heat, flies, and daily incoming? Hell, they’ll be tough old veterans if they survive that lot!’

  With our bags in the jeeps outside, we headed straight to the airport, to a side gate, Admiral Jacobs’ Hawkeye waiting for him, our Hercules waiting for us – and hopefully well guarded. I asked the crewman to search for bombs, then held my stare on him. He got searching with a purpose.

  Taking off I was worried, and could have done with a parachute, and the four hours dragged on, my mind on bombs – and on crashing and burning.

  Safely back, and in need of some food, I checked that nothing had happened before getting a bar meal and a cold beer. Sat outside with Captain Harris, we relaxed, and discussed strategy here.

  Sasha’s team arrived back by jeep after a cargo flight, and I got them all a cold beer, thankful no one around here could speak Russian as they recalled the detail with relish. I told Casper about his one-in-a-million shot hitting the coffee cup, and he was very pleased. He wanted to get a copy of the footage.

  At 8pm we boarded a hired Bombadier just for us and headed to Tenerife, the Squadron Leader briefed before we left, and at midnight we arrived at the hotel, finding a few lads in the bar, most out somewhere.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ I asked.

  ‘Local knocking shop,’ one of Robby’s replied, the man sat nursing a wound with Mouri. ‘There’s a good few of them, nice girls apparently. They’re supposed to be lap dance bars, but they have rooms as well.’

  Kit in rooms, I led the team out, down a hill and to a place called Veronica’s, a collection of busy bars. We all stopped to glance at the Christian help centre oddly located above a lap dance bar, a large neon crucifix staring down at the drunken revellers.

  In the first bar we found a group of Echo lads, noticing a few Wolves and NCOs trying it on with drunk English girls on holiday, an easy enough task.

  I found Swifty and Moran, both in new shirts, as Casper led the others to the bar.

  ‘You made it,’ Swifty shouted over the music.

  ‘Flew back from Lagos, and a meeting, straight here.’

  ‘Lagos?’ Moran queried. ‘And they didn’t try and shoot you!’

  I smiled and shook my head. ‘They agreed to let us have a base in the north, five hundred miles of hostile Islamists in all directions. I’m going to take the Wolves there.’

  ‘What’s there?’ Swifty asked.

  ‘Just a runway and some camel shit, no buildings, no nothing. There is water, a well was sunk when the Americans built it in 1962.’

  ‘Why that place?’ Moran puzzled.

  ‘We’ll set-up base, men on the wire, wait for
the locals to come shoot at us.’

  ‘Honey Trap,’ Moran noted.

  ‘Captain, look up the definition of Honey Trap, since it doesn’t apply in this instance. No honeys.’

  He laughed. ‘Plenty in here, but I’m feeling old. Spoke to a girl just now, and she was eighteen. I thought maybe twenty-seven.’

  ‘Has Tomo pulled yet?’ I asked them.

  ‘First day,’ Swifty complained. ‘Like an hour after we got here.’

  ‘Wolves behaving when drunk?’

  ‘I saw one carried back drunk, but he hadn’t been fighting. Not used to beer that’s six percent!’

  I nodded, getting the eye from a tall girl who looked to be about thirty.

  Swifty said, ‘Maybe she’s a doctor,’ Moran laughing.

  ‘I couldn’t be that unlucky,’ I told him. I handed them some Euros, and issued Euros to many of the Echo lads and some of the American Wolves.

  The tall girl grabbed my arm. ‘You’re the boss of this lot, they said.’

  ‘I don’t always admit to that.’

  ‘That lad said he was a postman, but he’s not built like a postman.’

  Smitty raised his glass to me and smiled.

  ‘Royal Marines, off ship.’

  ‘Ah, that would explain it. Are you an officer then?’

  ‘A captain, yes.’

  ‘So ... being on ship, you haven’t emptied your balls for a while?’

  I almost choked. ‘Don’t hold back, love, speak your mind.’

  ‘I fancy some sand on my arse and some muscle on top of me, if you’re up to it?’

  ‘Actually ... that’s the best offer I’ve had in quite a while.’

  She led me out, the lads all whistling at me.

  Down the slope, we walked into an underpass, suddenly four tall blacks in the way. My date backed up.

  ‘Relax,’ I told her. ‘They’re the ones in danger.’ I urged her on.

  ‘Got some change, man?’

  ‘Yes, now go get a fucking job, or I’ll stick my foot-oh up your nash.’

  They stared back wide-eyed. ‘You’s been working in Nigeria, man?’

  ‘Yes, cock sucker, now run along.’

  They exchanged looks.

  ‘You be a rude man.’

  I had had enough, my erection slipping. I moved forwards, a fast kick to the balls for the man closest, jumping back as he bent over, right jab to the man on the right, his head snapped back and hitting the wall. Spinning left, the closest man rushed in, but was too tall. I lunged in, my head low, his entire head above mine, his chin impossible to protect, my punch snapping his head back.

  The tall guy blocked his friend for long enough, my kick hitting the man into the wall, a gasp heard, my second kick connecting with his balls, roundhouse kick knocking him sideways and down. The first man I had hit was easing up, a kick to the face sending him backwards and down.

  I faced my lady as she stood looking frightened. ‘Shall we?’

  She walked forwards, two good kicks delivered. ‘Girl was attacked by some of this lot the other week. They wait till people are drunk and then rob them.’

  I led her out of the underpass and right, and to the beach, and by time we got there she had recovered to the point of laughing, and I had a large pair out and swaying as we found a quiet spot on damp sand.

  An hour later I limped back into the bar, my lady off for a burger and chips.

  ‘What happened to you?’ Swifty asked.

  ‘I think I strained my groin with that bird, she was a maniac.’

  ‘Stop boasting,’ Moran complained. ‘We’re struggling to find bird around here.’

  ‘There’s a casino, and some smart bars, a mile away. Get a nice shirt on and we’ll head that way tomorrow.’

  ‘Sounds much better,’ Moran noted

  A disturbance down the bar, and Casper knocked a pale young lad flying, a tourist and not one of ours. The lad’s mates closed in, ten of them, but were met by several Echo lads, the kid’s mates thinking better of it and legging it away.

  I put a strong arm around Casper’s neck. In Russian I said, ‘Try hard not to get the police involved. We don’t need attention here.’ I slapped the back of his head and gave him a pointed finger, and he shrugged.

  In the morning I heard of several other fights, but after investigating it all came down to stupid drunk Brits on holiday, most just teenagers. Even Henri had clobbered someone.

  With Swifty, Moran, Mitch and Ginger, we walked the length of the promenade, had lunch, and sat eyeing the girls in bikinis for a few hours, and walking back we found the odd pyramid-shaped casino, a mental note made of where it was.

  Back at the part-finished hotel, Crab and Duffy were sunning themselves around an empty pool.

  ‘Don’t dive in,’ I told them. ‘Too shallow.’

  ‘We’s been down the beach for a swim, hot as hell now,’ Crab told me. ‘Found an Indian, we’ll try it later.’

  I got directions for the Indian.

  Stepping out at 4pm, we headed to a second-hand shop I had seen, all of us buying shirts and jackets that would be left behind when we left. I even found some nice shoes that fitted me.

  Dressed smart now, we headed out at 7pm and found a nice steak house halfway to the casino, and I was buying. Two hours later, and now mellow, we headed to the casino, a look at the fountains opposite, a light show laid on to loud music.

  Inside the air conditioned interior of the casino I handed out Euros, but first we tried the slot machines, Swifty bagging a hundred Euro win – all in coins. At the cheap roulette tables Swifty stacked up his coins, the girl not impressed with the time taken, everything on black. He won. Well, it had been fifty-fifty, but he got his winnings in notes, the coins handed to a man who had been summoned. He didn’t look impressed with us either.

  Swifty led us on, and to a table with higher minimum bets. He put his two hundred on black, and won. Now with four hundred Euros he suggested the lap dance bar.

  Moran and I shrugged, headed out and waved down a taxi, a short ride to the lap dance bar, finding two of our American NCOs sat with drinks.

  ‘Captain,’ they offered, not sure how I would treat them.

  I handed them both fifty Euros. ‘Relax, you could be dead next week.’

  I sat, beer ordered, a girl suddenly in my face, rather, a nice pair of boobs in my face.

  ‘You buy drink, yes.’

  I handed her twenty Euro instead, so she whipped off her bikini right there in front of the gang, and my eyes widened. She was tanned all over, a perfect flat stomach, shaved pussy, great boobs, and had a sexy accent to go with it. ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘Romania. I come quick here.’

  My brow furrowed. ‘What?’ I asked with a grin.

  ‘I am only here two weeks.’

  ‘Ah.’ I exchanged a look with a smirking gang. Another twenty Euro handed over, and she took me by the hand to a room.

  ‘Just a blowjob,’ I told her.

  ‘With condom?’

  ‘Hell no.’

  ‘Extra please.’

  I handed over another twenty, and the exquisite little creature lay down as if for some 69, so I got to study the perfect little pussy as she worked her magic. I came in her mouth, but she spat straight away into a hand, a quick run to the sink. Obviously I didn’t taste that good.

  After a good suck of the boobs, I left her to clean the room for the next punter, and I reclaimed my beer with the lads.

  ‘Moran is with some tall Russian bird,’ Swifty told me.

  ‘Short men like tall birds,’ I suggested. ‘Go spend your winnings.’

  ‘I fancied your bird.’

  ‘I only had a blowjob with a condom,’ I lied. ‘So go for it.’

  When she appeared he thrust a hundred Euro in her hand and led her back into the room. I drank my beer, chatting to one of the NCOs about Nebraska, Swifty making good use of the full half hour, back out with a smile.

  I told him, ‘Whate
ver she’s got, now we’ve all got it.’

  ‘Great body. Why can’t I find one like that in the nightclubs around here?’

  ‘We’ll try the place next to the casino. That looked posh.’

  Moran came back doing up his belt.

  ‘Well?’ I asked.

  ‘Great body on her, flat stomach and firm, great boobs.’

  ‘A happy customer then,’ I noted.

  After our beers we flagged down a taxi, Swifty finding coins in his pocket and paying, and we entered a bar next to the casino, people sat down listening to an old black guy singing, many people stood around the bar, a few tasty girls in the mix.

  I didn’t clock the face across the bar, but he clocked me, and he turned away, leading his friends out in a hurry. Drinks ordered, sips taken, girls chatted to, and half an hour passed, suddenly flashing blue lights seen out the door.

  ‘That don’t look good,’ I told the gang, now worried.

  Police appeared in the doorway, waving people out, the singer rudely interrupted, his Barry White rendition halted.

  ‘I was gentle with that girl,’ Swifty quipped.

  The front part of the bar was soon emptied, four Spanish police officers in black balaclavas stood inside the door, armed with automatic rifles. I exchanged a worried look with Swifty.

  I led the gang forwards a few feet, ID cards out ready.

  ‘Where are you from?’ a man in suit with a badge asked us.

  ‘British Army, we’re captains.’

  He checked all three IDs. ‘Which hotel?’

  ‘Meridien.’

  ‘It was closed ... for refurbishment.’

  ‘We have two floors block booked, a hundred soldiers.’

  ‘And these soldiers have been fighting in the bars on the strip, no.’

  ‘Why’d you think we came all the way over here,’ Swifty told him.

  ‘Control your men, or we will!’ he warned us, soon ushering us past.

  Outside, a mass of police in a half circle, I clocked the face from Panama, the men stood next to another plain clothes police officer. Arm raised, finger pointed, he singled me out. A group started towards us, and my heart stopped. This could be a problem.

  ‘Your papers,’ came with an accent.

  ‘We’re British Army captains,’ I told him, now greatly concerned. He checked all three IDs, spoke to Moran and Ginger, and asked me about London.