by Geoff Wolak
‘OK.’
He called me back ten minutes later. ‘There’s a troop from “B” Squadron just arrived, and with extra kit for “D” Squadron.’
‘What kit?’
‘Fifty cal and VEPR.’
‘Ah, good, have it – and the men – delivered to the dam. You have numbers for Morten?’
‘Yes, and the French, and the troop captains in “D” Squadron.’
‘Let them know about the helos when they set off.’
I returned to studying the camp.
Moran said, ‘Could just bore them to death. How long will they man those guns?’
Mitch said, ‘Two of three days, then they start to doubt the intel.’
The An12 took off and headed east as we lay there, the sun high. I swigged my water and opened a tin of meat.
‘Helicopter!’ Swifty shouted, and I eased forwards. As we observed, an Mi8 came into land.
‘Shit.’ I called Mister Haines. ‘It’s Wilco, get everyone hidden inside now, hide any tracks outside quickly, there’s an Mi8 helicopter! Hide, don’t shoot unless it fires on you, or lands! Be fast, warn everyone now! You have minutes!’
Phone away, I led my team back down to the larger cave, a Wolf sat there waiting. I clicked on my radio as Swifty, Moran Mitch moved inside. ‘Anyone who can here this signal, hide, helicopter active! Hide yourselves.’ I called Rocko.
‘Hello?’ came after thirty seconds.
‘It’s Wilco, hide in the cave from the helicopter.’
‘What helicopter?’
‘The one that just landed at the strip, Dopey Fuck! Stay inside.’ I called Rizzo, but hearing a drone I ducked inside to the mouth of the cave. The Mi8 flew low over the ridge, banked left and along, circled around making a noise and flew towards Rocko, circled a mile out before turning northwest, a direct line for the dam and its buildings.
I eased out and observed as it flew over the dam and circled the buildings, but it did so at 800ft, too high to see hidden men – and cowering nurses. It finally flew back over the ridge. I eased into the cave and to the front, rubbing shoulders with the team as I peered out. It touched down, but five minutes later flew off east.
‘They bought it,’ Mitch noted.
‘So far, yes,’ I agreed. Out the cave, I went and found Swann and Leggit in the first cave. ‘I want you to start sniping, one round every six minutes, but don’t get too low on ammo. And ... have fun.’
Outside, I called Rocko.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s Wilco.’
‘Saw that helo. What was all that about?’
‘The men in that base got a tip-off that we’re here, but that helo reported no large groups. Tell Nicholson and Tomo I want one round every six minutes, for them to snipe at the camp. Just them, one round every six minutes. Got that?’
‘Aye, tell them now.’
My team emerged, and we moved back up to our former position.
‘There,’ Mitch called. ‘Wounded man being dragged.’
‘Our snipers will make it appear that there’s no more than one man up here. And that, gentlemen, is not the action of a stealthy hostage rescue team.’
‘I’d not believe it,’ Moran agreed. ‘Hostage rescue teams don’t just snipe from distance, that’s a local with a grudge.’
As we observed, men in the sandbag positions started to fall, no outgoing fire evident. An officer ran to the mortar pits, wounded and spun, making us laugh.
‘What’ll they do with mortars anyway?’ Swifty scoffed. ‘Need to know where we are first.’
My phone trilled. ‘It’s Tinker, can you talk?’
‘Yeah, just sat on a hill looking down at the rebel base.’
‘We’ve started getting the signals intel.’
‘You have? Oh, two of the Wolves had devices, guess they set-them up already. Would have been nice if they told me.’
‘Been running two hours or so. They caught traffic to a helicopter out searching for you, but it reported no one in the area.’
‘There are caves here, we were inside.’
‘Ah, right. We’ll the base went on alert, not sure why, lots of worried voices, now they’ve calmed down and don’t believe the warning they got. We got a sat phone number, and it took a call from ... guess where.’
‘I give up.’ I waited.
‘Ivory Coast.’
‘Do you know who?’
‘Not from the sat phone, but a radio message asking for some Major to call a Russian, Libintov. He’s listed by Interpol and us, but he hides his business dealings well.’
‘Guns?’
‘No, he does planes, and moves guns. He has a fleet of An12.’
‘Ah, and I may have damaged two in Ivory Coast. Does this idiot know I’m here?’
‘Not sure.’
‘Someone in Sierra Leone, at the airport, could have reported my movements. So ... he alerts them to an attack by me? That makes no sense. Does he think I’d attack that base with thirty men?’
‘He may think you’ll go after the hostages, sneak in.’
‘Sneak in, while six hundred men sleep nearby? He has more faith in me than I do. And an An12 landed, maybe one of his, weapons offloaded.’
‘Hang on, just got an email. They’re taking casualties from a sniper.’
‘Correct. Because a hostage rescue team would never do that.’
‘Ah, to fool them.’
‘Can you get me Libintov’s number.’
‘Not sure it’s him, could be a staff member.’
‘All out effort on the radio intercepts and phone, I need an angle here.’
‘I’ll get back to you.’
Off the phone, and back with the team, I heard a drone. ‘Where is it?’ I hissed, and we all studied the horizon, finally turning around and realising it was the two Super Pumas. We could see them clearly setting down on the road, boxes offloaded, men down. They lifted off and flew low level northwest.
I told the team, ‘That’s a troop of “B” Squadron, plus some fifty cal rifles.’
Mister Haines called. ‘You coming back? More SAS just landed.’
‘We could see the helos land. Be back after dark, can’t risk moving in daylight, keep them all hidden for now, we’re observing the rebel base, but also pissing them off with a lone sniper. If that Mi8 comes back and lands, shoot the bastards. Stay sharp down there, and keep the teams dispersed in case you get a helo attack.’
‘I’ll talk to the various groups now and brief them.’
Off the phone, I told the team about the radio intercepts.
‘There,’ Mitch called. ‘Glass shattered in a building, so maybe someone was stood looking out. And there’s a jeep with a smashed windscreen. That kid Tomo I bet.’
‘You’re not wrong,’ I told him. ‘But he shoots better than he draws sketches.’
A hot hour later another An12 landed.
Moran complained, ‘We’re just sitting here while they’re getting the baked beans stocked up ready.’
‘Yep,’ I let out.
My phone trilled ten minutes later. ‘It’s Nicholson. That plane had some white men on it, about twelve, dressed like mercenaries. They drove into the camp, the HQ building, three jeeps and a red Land Rover.’
‘Land Rover never made a red version,’ I insisted. ‘They have manly colours.’
‘Whatever it is, it was red.’
‘Put a round into that HQ building.’
‘I did, and they all hit the floor.’
‘Hit some tyres, or your pants.’ Off the phone, and squinting in the bright sun, I told my team, ‘That AN12 offloaded a dozen mercenaries, probably Russian.’
‘What good are they?’ Moran wondered. ‘They coming up here tonight, to try and find us? These rocks are deadly in daylight, let alone fucking night time. And they’ll never find the caves at night.’
‘Could be instructors,’ Mitch suggested.
‘For what?’ Swifty challenged.
‘Fifty cal mo
unted,’ Mitch suggested. ‘Or something else. Thought I saw a towed rocket unit.’
‘Could be,’ I agreed.
Tinker called ten minutes later. ‘The radio and phone chatter is way up.’
‘Another An12 landed, a dozen mercenaries on board.’
‘They’re Russian, and we linked a phone used, and one of them -he’s on file, and he just called Ivory Coast, and that phone in Ivory Coast called Northern Cyprus.’
‘Ah, get me the Cyprus number. And the guy in the camp below.’
‘We think it’s Libintov, in Cyprus.’ He read out the numbers. Call cut, I told my team to be quiet as I punched the number for the guy in the camp, kicking sand and glancing down the slope as it connected.
‘Da!’
‘Keeping your head down?’
‘What? Who is this?’
‘Petrov.’
After a long pause came, ‘The Petrov, Panama?’
‘Yes, that one.’
‘It’s you ... shooting at us?’
‘No, stupid fuck! Why’d you insult me like that, eh.’
‘Sorry.’
‘I’m in the town you just drove through in a nice queer red jeep.’
‘You’re ... here?’
‘I have a contract to kill the stupid black fuck with you.’
‘You have?’
‘Yes, and I have bombs along the road your drove up, and south along the highway, all linked to a phone. When he drives out ... boom. So what you lot doing there anyhow?’
‘How’d you get this number?’
‘The bombs have phone scanners, and you drove past.’
‘Oh. We were sent by Libintov -’
‘He still hiding out in Cyprus?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sorry, you were saying...’
‘We’re to set an ambush. When the main force leaves here we set an ambush around the hostages, to shoot a British officer.’
‘Libintov still things that this Captain Wilco destroyed his planes.’
‘He didn’t?’
‘No. And now you’re in a bad spot. Have you been paid yet?’
‘No.’
‘Well, I’m going to kill the blacks, so ... will Libintov pay you?’
‘It’s his contract, but these blacks owe him millions. He would have got it back after this black is in power.’
‘Well, I think you need to chat to him quick because I’m running out of patience. I have a bomb in that building you’re in right now.’
‘Hey, don’t blow it yet, I want a job with Tomsk.’
‘You get a job with Tomsk if I say so.’
‘That’s what we heard so ... please don’t blow us up. Boss.’
‘You need to leave, but ... the blacks will be suspicious. OK, you tell the blacks that this call is me, Petrov, and that you now know of an ambush south, and a bomb under a road. The blacks will not want the road cut. Tell them the English are thirty miles south, waiting to ambush.’
‘Are they?’
‘No, they’re sat at an airstrip thirty miles northwest. When the blacks move south they’ll fly down and ambush them, then go for any hostages. I intercept their phones as well.’
‘OK, I talk to the blacks now and we fuck off quick.’
‘And don’t go in that red car, eh, be real men.’
‘I call you back. This number OK?’
‘Yes.’
Call cut, I smiled as I stared down at the dam’s remnants.
‘Well?’ Swifty asked.
I turned around. ‘The Russian mercenaries will be leaving very, very quickly.’
‘The other day job,’ Moran noted.
‘Other day job?’ Mitch asked.
‘CIA work,’ Moran told him.
‘Oh. In that case I don’t need to know or want to know. Had enough bad experiences with them and their solid intel.’
‘I trust my own intel, Lieutenant.’
Ten minutes later, Moran said, ‘Vehicle convoy leaving.’
My phone trilled. ‘Quiet everyone.’ I hit the green button. ‘Da!’
‘Petrov?’
‘Da!’
‘It’s Libintov, and ... with all due respect, you’re about to cost me a great deal of money.’
‘Sorry, but what do you suggest, I have a contract, I have bombs in place?’
‘Is there any way my weapons could be recovered?’
‘Only if all the blacks are killed, and I have three men with me.’
‘If Major Ndodoo is killed, will the British hostage team move on those left?’
Major Dodo? I ran around my head, trying not to smile. ‘To get hostages, yes, not to mop up. If the blacks move south, will they take the weapons?’
‘I would assume so, they’ll need them in the fight to take power. May I ask ... is Tomsk behind this?’
‘No, I have other paymasters, and I would never reveal who.’
‘So I heard. I’d be happy to pay you for your time, if I can get back those weapons.’
‘I’d do it as a favour, if I could. But ... I have a contact inside the French, and they have men nearby. They might be interested in mopping up, but then they would have the weapons. It’s a tough one. Leave it with me, but have an AN12 or two on standby ready to come get the weapons. Then you owe me a favour.’
‘I’d be very grateful.’
‘Don’t alert the blacks, but suggest to them that there are British and French down the road, small teams ready to set ambushes. Maybe some of the blacks will leave, not the Major, and I’ll kill them on the road. I’ll also send for my men, but they’re six hours away. Leave it with me, I make no promises, but I try.’
‘Thank you. Oh, and what do you know of my planes in Ivory Coast?’
‘The Americans dropped bombs on some, but the British never went onto that base, they were sniping from the wire. When the young American Marines landed they found RPGs in boxes, and had fun blowing up the planes and helicopters.’
‘As was suggested to me, but I was not sure about it. So this man Wilco was not responsible?’
‘I spoke to a man who was there; Americans were set-up to look good, British killing most people first. And the Americans had some spy inside that base reporting everything.’
‘Something else I suspected.’
‘You give these British too much credit, they’re not that good. I shot Captain Wilco two years back, side of the stomach.’
‘Why did you not kill him when you have the chance?’
‘I admire him, kindred spirit. He loves the danger, like me. My kind of beer buddy.’
‘And if I could hire you to kill him?’
‘I’d say no. It would sadden me, like shooting a tiger.’
‘You would be shooting the mirror image of yourself.’
‘Wow, that was deep. I need to sit down and think about that one. I’ll let you know about your weapons.’
Call cut, I turned to face the base. ‘The Major in charge down there now believes that ambushes are being set for him south, and he may send a small force south to find them. And ... they won’t be getting any more weapons – the store wants them back, no more credit extended. And, don’t laugh, but his name is Major Dodo.’
They laughed loudly as I moved down the slope a few yards, giving Hunt the detail by phone.
‘What’ll you do?’ he finally asked.
‘Not sure, it’s up to them to make a mistake and then I use it.’
‘And Libintov?’
‘If he gets his weapons back, I can get intel on a few things, possibly around the Middle East. Which is more valuable?’
‘A good new intel source is better than a crate of old AK47s.’
‘Send it up the line, get some advice – if there is any advice to be dispensed.’
Moran’s phone trilled as I returned and lay down. ‘Hello?’ He started talking in French.
Mitch lifted up and made eye contact. ‘I need to learn some fucking languages.’
‘Never too late,’ I
told him.
Moran turned to me. ‘Lieutenant Colonel Liban wants to know if we need some help. He’s sat behind a desk.’
‘He wants to come down?’ I asked. ‘How many men?’
‘Thirty,’ Moran said after chatting to Liban. ‘They could be here in seven hours.’
‘Unlikely we’ll move on the base before then, so yeah – he can come have some fun. But tell him to bring a bottle of wine.’
Moran spoke into his phone, soon laughing. Phone away, he said, ‘He said to tell you to wear your medal.’
‘Left it pinned to Tinker’s tie in GL4.’
‘You gave it away?’ Moran asked. ‘Legion of Honour, Grand Cross.’
‘Not like I’m going to wear it on my No.1 dress uniform.’
‘You don’t have a No.1 dress uniform,’ Swifty pointed out.
‘Exactly.’ I eased up and sat against a rock, and stared down at the river. ‘How we going to kill six hundred men?’
‘Why kill them all?’ Mitch challenged. ‘Kill the bosses, rest will slope off.’
‘Problem is, Mitch, they have a taste for the easy life, not tilling the fields. I’ve seen it in many places, and ex-soldiers are next year’s rapists and murderers, gang members and mercenaries. Less of a risk to put them in the ground, and that lot down there already have a reputation for raping and killing the town’s folk.’
‘So the plan is..?’ Moran nudged.
‘Well, least we can do is keep them awake tonight, and hope they send out patrols this way.’
I called Captain Harris, asking about RPGs. They had none, but they did have explosives and grenades. When he asked about timers, they had sixty second fuses. I told him I wanted four bombs, with sixty second fuses, and some brave or foolish pilots.
With the sun getting low, I called in Rocko and Slider - Tomo and Nicholson to remain in their cave, ammo handed to them, Rizzo and Stretch called in, Henri and Jacque called in. I led my team down the slope, and we hid in rocks, waiting for Rizzo and Rocko. When they were seen, and when I felt it was dark enough, we walked out and met them, a speed march back.
Approaching the river I used my radio to alert the RAF Regiment, and we crossed in the same spot, soon inside the big building, a few cookers flickering, dull yellow light illuminated the dull grey concrete walls. I sent runners to get the senior staff, and lit a small fire for some illumination.
