by Geoff Wolak
‘Well ... yeah, could be.’
‘Do me a favour, and keep the blame game down till we know for sure who it is.’
‘I served thirty years, I know how it works. Was firearms for a while as well.’
‘Yeah? Come on then.’ I led him to the hangars and the pistol range, grabbing Crab and Duffy, and our ex-copper soon had a pistol in hand, moving targets to fire at.
I encouraged him along, loudly, magazine swapped, stance improved, and he started to get there, two hundred rounds used up. Walking back to the gate, to his car, I said, ‘If we find him I’ll let you know, and I wasn’t joking about ten minutes alone with him – if it’s one of mine.’
‘I’d not hurt him, I’d want justice done. But my wife would take you up on that offer for sure.’
‘She sounds like a handful?’
‘I still have the x-rays of my ribs to prove it!’
We shook, and he was a convert, he was on my side.
In the morning I called David. ‘I spoke to the father of the girl, he’s OK, no blame our way yet, no locals wanting to lynch us or to see us gone – not yet at least.’
‘Well that’s something.’
‘I have a list of men who were out and could have done it, and it looks like he’s a left-hander. Sasha’s team are all in the clear.’
‘We’re looking hard at the old timers, might throw up a clue.’
‘What fucking idiot would speak Russian, unless it was deliberate, a ploy. My Russian speakers would speak English to throw off the police, not arouse suspicion.’
‘It does seem odd, yes.’
‘Do me a favour, and run all vehicles registrations for 10pm to midnight, M4 near London and M40.’
‘Why those particular roads?’
‘Someone from London Intel wanting to discredit us.’
‘I’ll have a look, because if this sticks I get it in the neck.’
Valmet delivered our weapons the next morning, all checked by the lads, diligently logged by Bongo and his new helper. The ammo came by anonymous truck, police escort, which made the anonymous part of the operation look a bit silly.
On future operations Nicholson would carry an Elephant Gun – as we now called them, so too Leggit and Mouri, one magazine of tungsten rounds, their troop sergeants having a second. Each lad would have four heavy magazines of lead rounds, and that was all. Rocko, Stretch and Dicky all opted for the box-feds, and four additional lads would all carry a box of ammo on their backs in the new bags.
Henri, Fuzz and one of Robby’s would carry grenade launchers on their backs, Valmets carried as normal, one extra lad in each troop tasked with extra grenades, but I told the lads that – depending on the job – the make-up of weapons might change.
For the Somalia job we would take eight extra Elephant Guns and plenty of ammo, for the RAF Regiment lads to protect the perimeter.
Midday, Colonel Dean drove in unannounced with the RSM.
I saluted, and led him upstairs to the Major. ‘Problems, sir?’
‘Have to chat to the Territorials Quartermaster, had some kit thefts-’
‘Theft’s by who?’ I snapped.
‘Territorials, not your lot.’
We finally sat with our brews.
He began, ‘You have some big exercise planned in Kenya, but on the border – a dangerous border!’
‘We may go back in to Somalia, sir, and to start with there are hostages near the Kenyan border, so I’ll pinch resources without any extra budget.’
‘Well, the men and machines are sat there anyhow,’ he agreed. ‘“A” Squadron is there, been there two weeks, so use them if you like.’
‘Was hoping to, sir.’
‘There are fewer negative comments about you these days.’
‘There were before..?’ I nudged.
‘Usual whinging, but no substance to it, men whinging about you getting the good jobs and always taking priority.’
‘As well as the damn casualties,’ I quipped.
The RSM put in, ‘Hamble was a shock, but ... not unexpected, and I’ve seen it before. And I heard Whisky quit.’
I nodded. ‘I don’t blame him, don’t blame anyone wanting to walk away with a keen desire to keep limbs attached.’
He smiled. ‘Your visit by those actors pissed off a lot of men. Jealous.’
I told him, ‘We’re yet to see how ridiculous our perceived image is on the big screen!’
‘Can’t be any worse than Bravo Two Zero,’ the Colonel quipped, and we laughed. ‘You know, the MOD has gone from being embarrassed ... to endorsing it as the truth. Good for recruitment an all.’
The Major complained, ‘In my day we were a secret military force, and for good reason.’
The Colonel noted, ‘Now with embedded reporters, but I see the sense to the publicity, and recruitment is important to us all – we’ve slowed down the recruitment process. Be interesting to see that film when it comes out. I watched the old movie, Who Dares Wins, the other day, and it seems old now. Richard Widmark was in it, forgot that, he was a hostage in the supposed embassy.’
I told them, ‘I corrected parts of this new script, or it would have embarrassed us, embarrassed me with some of what they thought I might have said.’
‘And this American, Mahoney, he’s the hero?’ the RSM asked.
‘He’s not named as Mahoney in the movie, but it is him, with an enlarged role. In the movie he leads his own platoon of men, which I changed to troop. His troop rescue mine.’
‘Bloody cheek,’ the Major let out.
The Colonel added, ‘And a film about the Angola rescue. A few former lads in as extras, quite a few I’m led to believe.’
I shook my head. ‘Old regulars with bad attitude playing at being my men. I hope I get some input to it.’
The RSM soured his face. ‘Lot of short-timers who left us after two years are now advising the film makers, and have roles. Some served a year before being kicked out, now back in uniform!’
‘Bloody ridiculous,’ the Major complained. ‘If they’re so keen to play at soldier, why did they damn well leave us? I’ll tell you why, it’s because it easier to tell someone that you used to be in the SAS ... than to be a cold wet op in Northern Ireland!’
We all nodded.
Before the end of the day I called David. ‘You up to speed on the American desire to see us back in Somalia?’
‘Yes, we have discussed it. Hunt said that you could divert men from Kenya, and that helps, low budget, no special operation, and the Cabinet Office just shrugged. What’s your plan?’
‘Forward base in Kenya, on the border, some training for various groups, try and get some hostages over the border.’
‘And the group that the Mi24’s failed to go and attack?’
‘You’ll have to discuss that, would need a plane or two, or ship and helos, bigger budget. Can’t drive there, it’s a long old way.’
‘OK, we’ll discuss that with the Americans, and we have a few of our chaps missing, not sure where they are, could be on the Somali border, but no ransom demands.’
‘Your guys?’
‘Middle men, white men, negotiators for hostage swaps. They’re not officially with us, but we still care about them.’
‘I’ll turn over some rocks, see what we find.’
‘Police were up at The Factory?’ he asked.
‘The first and second batch, the old and the new, plus some of ours, some regulars. The old batch had refreshers and they taught the new batch, contests held. They now train their own men on many aspects, but the new batch got a good grounding in Sierra Leone. There are three old regulars up there now, permanent positions as directing staff.’
‘Italians are to visit, their hostage team, and a team from Oman.’
‘The team from Oman may be a bit cold, maybe best in August!’
‘Yes, quite.’
I called the Pathfinders and asked if they wanted in, and they would get back to me, but then I took a call from t
he line manager responsible for the Wolves, and he wanted in, which was odd – he had never volunteered them before.
David called that evening. ‘No news on the rapist so far,’ he stated.
‘I was thinking today ... that if this was about discrediting us then the press would have been tipped off, so it’s a genuine rapist.’
‘Well, yes, someone trying to set you up would tip off the press, maximum embarrassment, so we have a potential rapist nearby, hopefully not one of ours.’
‘None of my lads has raped a girl whilst aboard, and none have expressed a view on the matter, so if it is one of mine he’s a good actor, good at keeping it hidden.’
‘That would be a worry, yes. Reason for the call, Cabinet Office is happy for you to get some newspaper inches in Somalia, and the MOD is happy for a large exercise.’
‘I’ll drag it out a bit, but there are several hostage groups, it’s a big old area.’
‘Oh, and Belchov turned up dead in Georgia, dumped outside a police station late one night, ID on him.’
‘Check the body and his ID, it could be him trying to throw people off the scent.’
‘I had planned to, yes. You think ... maybe The Banker?
‘Maybe, I’ll ask.’
Call cut, I hit the digits for Leon after checking my list. He was on the list as “French Wine Merchants”.
‘Hello?’
‘Put that wine down.’
He laughed. ‘I was just warming up a nice steak, with a wine sauce yes.’
‘You cook for yourself?’
‘I like to cook, and myself and my wife – we go to these one-day seminars on cooking in some old castle, all great fun.’
‘Listen, Belchov; was that you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sure it’s him?’
‘I had to double check, but yes.’
‘Closes a chapter then, one less idiot in the world.’
‘How’s Casper?’
‘Training hard, and joined at the hip with his small team, they’re inseparable.’
‘Sounds like he’s enjoying it.’
‘He seems to be, but soon we’re off to Somalia, hostage rescue, so some danger.’
‘From assassin to hostage rescue, quite a turnaround, but I’m glad he’s taking risks for a good cause now. Take care of him.’
‘I’ll ask him to take care of me, he’s a damn good soldier.’
Next call was Libintov. ‘Ah, Petrov, how are things?’
‘Good, and now Belchov is dead.’
‘I heard. You ... had a hand in his demise?’
‘Yes,’ I lied. ‘He figured that you were involved in an operation that I knew you were not involved with, so he paid men to infiltrate the group to fuck you over.’
‘That does not surprise me, and his animosity was misplaced. He blamed me for his loss of a deal, but he lost it long before I was offered the deal. Pity really.’
‘If you hear of any arms shipments around Somalia, any helicopters or planes, let me know, I have an interest there.’
‘Will do. And thanks for Belchov.’
I was getting ready for bed when Franks called. ‘You’re going back into Somalia?’ he asked.
‘Big training exercise on the Kenyan border, maybe some hostages, no firm opinion about the border area unless you have an opinion to loan me.’
‘Well, we want them gone, but I doubt the White House will turn any tubs around.’
‘Let me see how it unfolds, might find a way to get there and back in one piece. I’ll let you know.’
‘What timescale are you working to?’
‘We’ll ship out to Kenya in a few days, settle in, have a think, look at the map.’
In the morning I checked chutes with Brize Norton, and they would get them ready for us, pointing out that they had a sizeable team down in Kenya already – as well as a few men in Sierra Leone.
Haines called, on standby from the Air Commodore, three flights out of five to attend, plus their embedded medics. The Pathfinders called back, one troop of volunteers to attend.
Moran asked about Max, so I put our trusty reporter on standby. Phone down, it rang, the MOD’s propaganda unit insisting they would attend, cameras rolling. Phone down, it rang again, the MOD insisting that several people from the film studio go down to Kenya and look around. I had no particular objection, the Major complaining loudly about them.
‘Film studio people, on a live fucking job? What’s next, John Wayne in a Chinook?’
‘Sir, I think John Wayne is dead.’
I made sure Casper had some suitable desert gear, and I made sure he was up to speed on all weapons, plenty of team movement practise – but in Russian. And with the weather fine, the water damn cold, I had the Russians and Russian-speakers swimming and shooting, a hot drink afterwards a must – laced with vodka.
Second Lieutenant Lancaster, a.k.a Ginger, had turned up with his gear, housed in with Moran and Mitch for now, so we issued desert browns and handed him to Rizzo for some intensive training on the Valmet, and on team movements. I told Ginger he had thirty minutes only for lunch, same for evening meal, and he was at it till 10pm, the pistol range with Crab being his last session for the day.
In the morning he tried the grenade launcher, the Elephant Gun, and was soon back on the Valmet, drills after drills, his aim improving. By the end of the day he was getting the hang of it, on par with Rizzo, and he was a good sniper, the Major having complained that Ginger was not learning about the paperwork.
‘If he survives Somalia he can have lessons, sir,’ I told the Major. ‘First things first, eh.’
‘Don’t go damaging him, he just got here!’
At 5pm I met with Intel, old and new faces. ‘OK, what do we know?’
Hunt said, ‘Americans have promised some satellite images, soon.’
I nodded.
Tinker began, ‘We have a local man or two that can move around inside Somalia, ready to plant listening devices.’
Mutch put in, ‘List of hostages, but some go back to 1850. Some of this lot have been missing for decades.’
‘Then they either have very long grey beards – or are dead,’ I suggested.
‘And ... bodies?’ Major Sanderson asked.
I made a face. ‘If I can identify bones, and it’s no risk carrying them back, we’ll bring them. Maybe. No promises.’
Marcel lifted a sheet. ‘We ‘av twenty-two missing, and we know where is twelve,’ he said, heavily accented.
‘Those twelve are our first priority then, but what about the hostage negotiators that went missing?’
Mutch said, ‘Lesley got a demand or two, but they never followed up on the demands – the kidnappers never followed up I mean.’
‘How many men?’ I asked.
‘Four,’ Lesley answered.
‘Then I want to go after that four, but get me names and photos so that I can identify bodies if we get the chance.’
‘I’ll be going with you,’ Baker put in. ‘Cleared it up the line. I used to be stationed in Kenya, five years, it was my patch. I’ll chat to my old snitches, most of whom are Somalis.’
‘It all helps, yes. You want some weapons practise?’
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘If I’m in a shootout, then I screwed up somewhere.’
‘Mister Baker, if you’re inside of a hundred miles of me ... a shootout is a certainty.’
‘I’ll get some practise in then, you do attract trouble.’
Hunt asked, ‘And the northern Somali border issue?’
I made a face. ‘It’s a long way, so we look at the assets available, then we get permission to risk those assets, then we decide. We may not go to the Ethiopian border, and no one is nudging us firmly that way – at the moment.’
He nodded.
‘And Aideed?’ Sanderson nudged.
‘Has expressed a strong desire not to piss off the Americans, or The West. The Americans have back-channels to him. He’s sat in Mogadishu, not venturing out,
so no militia will be seeking us out this time around – we hope.’
Captain Harris asked, ‘Team make-up in country?’
‘You, plus anyone you want to take, I’ll leave it up to you and Major Sanderson, see who wants to go and who’s off sick.’
‘Safe FOB?’ Sanderson asked.
‘I was about to say yes, sir, but ... I’m often wrong about how safe places are. Will the hostage-takers desire to come and attack us – no, not likely.’
‘Plenty of Somali gangs grabbing people on that border,’ Sanderson cautioned.
‘Small gangs, money on their minds, not militias, sir,’ I pointed out.
‘I have a sheet of paper detailing a ten vehicle convoy of armed men seen at the border a week ago,’ Sanderson pointed out.
‘We’ll have plenty of men and firepower, sir, and ten jeeps is not a militia - unless you have solid intel.’
I packed my kit with Swifty, and he had a new puzzle book. I had two paperbacks. I stepped next door and checked Ginger, but he was getting good advice from Moran, crates packed up.
‘In at the deep end,’ Ginger noted.
‘That saying was designed for people starting a new office job on day one, a risk of a paper cut. You’ll be shot at on day one.’
Mitch and Moran laughed at Ginger as he looked worried. Mitch asked, ‘Any naked black ladies with us?’
Ginger frowned at Mitch.
‘Not on this trip,’ I told Mitch.
‘Sleeping next to a large box of Semtex?’
Ginger again frowned at Mitch.
‘Possible, but not planned.’
‘People trying to blow us up?’
‘Always a possibility,’ I told Mitch, Moran laughing.
‘Naked lady?’ Ginger asked.
I left Moran to detail the story. I checked my spare browns, packed my greens just in case, spare socks, extra batteries, small pen torch, tins of pears and ravioli from Swifty making me smile.
At 9am the RAF buses turned up for the short trip to Brize Norton, just as it started raining. At Departures we met 2 Squadron, the Wolves and the Pathfinders, all early – or maybe we were late. Morten stepped in with a second Fl Lt, a good looking lady.
