Wilco- Lone Wolf 19

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘We had a deal with the Dutch company, it has been running for many years, but then they stopped suddenly this month, owing us money. I asked around, and heard about the Mexican drugs, stolen by police officers with links to Nicaragua. My spies saw the drugs loaded after we got a tip-off. I had the crooked police chief tipped off, I knew he had links to Tomsk, so I figured Tomsk would stop the shipment.’

  ‘With a bomb?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Got news for you, Tomsk did not place the bomb on board, and the drugs were not on the ship. He also got a tip-off from your police chief.’

  ‘What..?’ came a hiss.

  ‘So who is playing who, eh? Tomsk thinks the bomb was yours.’

  ‘No, we would not get involved like that. And if we put a bomb on board, why tip off that idiot Tomsk!’

  ‘Good point. Any clues?’

  ‘No, but I will look,’ he threatened.

  ‘Would ex-CIA Canadian contractors mean anything to you?’

  ‘I would never deal with such men.’

  ‘Ever heard of Claridge, Hollister, Debonet, Chanon..?’

  ‘Debonet was mentioned, links to the very dead Branco at Petrobras.’

  ‘Ah, links to the Belgian bank.’

  ‘This man played me?’

  ‘He's supposed to be dead. How much money did you lose?’

  ‘One consignment, twelve million dollars.’

  ‘Consignment of cocaine.’

  ‘Mixed. Some marijuana, they process it for medical use.’

  ‘Where did it go missing?’

  ‘It never went missing, it was delivered as normal, but then they don't return our calls now.’

  ‘They know what you would do to them, so they're not dumb enough to do that. Unless someone whispered in their ears, or the man taking your calls was dead. I think you were played by these ex-CIA contractors.’

  ‘You know where I can find them?’

  ‘I have one with me, under guard.’

  ‘I'd like to talk to him!’

  ‘I'll get back to you.’ Inside, I fired twice, loud echoing reports, both knees shot out, Chanon falling and screaming, Frank horrified. I sat as Gay Dave also looked horrified, Salome not reacting.

  Tomsk stood over Chanon. ‘I guess you were found out.’ To the guards he said, ‘Bind his wounds, don't let him die. Strip him and rope him to a tree, and burn his feet till he's ready to talk.’

  I faced Chanon. ‘Talk and you die quickly, that is the only choice you have left. If not, you'll live for a week.’

  ‘Screw you,’ he hissed out. ‘He's not Petrov! He's a British agent!’ he shouted at they dragged him.

  ‘Then I guess you choose the painful option,’ I noted.

  They dragged him out, Big Sasha complaining about the blood on his nice marble floor.

  ‘British agent?’ Frank repeated, eyeing me suspiciously.

  ‘I keep telling you, I'm James Bond.’

  ‘You don't dress like James Bond,’ Tomsk noted.

  I looked down at my greens as Salome laughed.

  She said, ‘No Tuxedo. You'd look good in a Tuxedo.’

  ‘Big Sasha, order me a Tuxedo!’

  ‘Don't start that again,’ Big Sasha let out as he cleaned the floor.

  Tomsk sat, Franks studying me carefully. ‘What did you find out?’

  ‘The bomb was not from our Bolivian friend.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘The police chief tipped you off, but also tipped off the Bolivian.’

  ‘So where are the drugs?’

  ‘Somewhere safe, and with Debonet, who I suspect is alive and well and planning a happy retirement.’

  ‘And this place in Nicaragua?’

  ‘A trap set for me and my men. I'll need your plane, to drop that pesticide.’

  ‘Ah, kill whoever is waiting in the trees. I sort something.’

  ‘It’s a trap?’ Salome asked.

  ‘Yes. Seems that they found out about the Dutch company buying drugs, wanted to make some money but also wanted to strike back at the British – and at me. They hatched the plan to try and kill me, but to be seen to miss, making me bring my men here. And I now doubt that they deal with North Korea, that could be another lie, to get this trip sanctioned.’

  ‘So who is waiting for us in Nicaragua?’ Salome asked.

  ‘Drug dealers, local soldiers, a mine field, maybe cameras and journalists. But the one thing that strikes me … is that they would have to have a good penetration of the Nicaraguan drug gangs. Being ex-CIA, they would have had the contacts years back, but contact with the military.

  ‘The story about the drugs coming from Mexico might be a trick, and they had to make it look like the drugs were at the bottom of the ocean, stop people investigating.

  ‘Hollister wanted to hurt the British Government, and it was probably him that started the rumour that our Navy sank that ship, and he and Debonet organised men to attack me – so that it would look like a drug dealer angry at me, Kebowski – who may well be involved somehow.’

  ‘How would this man Hollister get out?’ Salome probed.

  ‘He knew that the British would make a deal, if he gave up all he knew. So, over twenty years maybe, he created characters in various countries and then gave them up – the fictional characters, but with enough evidence that they existed to convince London.

  ‘He would have retired to France, some of the drug money coming his way. And I think he made money from selling secrets.’

  ‘You sound like a British agent to me,’ Frank noted. ‘How the hell could you know all that?’

  I glanced at Tomsk. Tomsk led Frank to a side room.

  I stepped out and called David Finch. ‘Still awake?’

  ‘Just.’

  ‘Hollister is playing you, and it doesn't look like the North Koreans are involved, and there were no drugs on that ship. It was about a giant smoke screen, to cover the stolen drugs and for Hollister to get out even if caught. No man in Singapore, just a backstory created by a delusional Hollister.’

  ‘He's still holding out for a better deal and dragging it out, playing for tie maybe, so … tomorrow I'll throw him to the wolves.’

  ‘Tell him that Henri Chanon has been caught and interrogated by Tomsk.’

  ‘Who is this chap?’

  ‘Ex-CIA contractor, Canadian. Debonet is probably alive, and it was about stealing the drugs. Hollister hates us, and probably has been selling secrets to China.’

  ‘I’ll try and get some sleep, but it won't be easy. What are you going to do?’

  ‘I'll dig into what’s really going on in Nicaragua, and spring a trap.’

  ‘Be careful.’

  Inside, Frank looking shocked, I said to Tomsk, ‘If they cut the Bolivian drugs and water them down, and sell in America, how much would they make?’

  He made a face. ‘Thirty million maybe. But you need the right chemicals to mix in, they get tested.’

  ‘Worth more in Europe?’

  ‘End users pay more in Europe. They pay $50 a bag, Americans might pay $35 a bag. A skilled chemist can make a lot of money.’

  ‘Ask around about skilled chemists for me, get me a list.’

  He made a call.

  I faced Frank. ‘Do I need to kill you?’

  ‘No. Just … just a hell of a shock.’

  ‘There is the world you see, then the world behind it.’

  ‘You built up Tomsk...’

  ‘Yes.’ I carefully pronounced, ‘Better the devil you know.’ I pointed at Salome. ‘Mossad.’

  ‘My god,’ Frank let out. ‘When we watched that film, Camel Toe Base, that actor was just like you.’

  I nodded. ‘Not met him yet.’

  ‘Do … the authorities know about me?’

  ‘Not from me they don't. Nor would they care. Relax.’

  ‘And Deep State really exists?’

  I nodded.

  ‘You don't need a Tux, you make Bond look like an amateur.’


  ‘Why thank you,’ I mocked.

  ‘At Camel Toe you were running the show...’

  ‘Yes, and I have a carrier battle group off the coast of Nicaragua, at my disposal.’

  ‘Makes my knickers wet,’ Salome noted.

  ‘Grey naval vessels … or sailors?’ I teased.

  ‘The power.’

  ‘Ah. But with the power comes responsibility, and blame. You know, you were in a dream I had.’ She keenly faced me and waited. ‘We were naked, in a cave, and I was dragging you around by the hair before we had sex.’

  ‘It is your frustration, to try and make me behave.’

  I faced Frank. ‘She doesn't always behave.’

  Gay Dave put in, ‘This is soooo much more exciting that I would have thought.’

  Frank stared at him, before facing me. ‘Going to … er … need a voice coach I think.’

  I laughed, Salome joining in. I told Frank, ‘It has been suggested that the North Koreans might sell weapons into this region.’

  ‘Not a chance.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Since the end if the fighting a year ago the place is awash with guns. You can buy an AK47 for twenty bucks in Nicaragua, mines by the tonne. Last week they found a stash of a thousand mines, blew them. They sell guns, they don't buy them.’

  ‘Interesting,’ I noted.

  I walked around and checked in on the lads, many with hookers, soon sitting in the common room with Moran, Ginger and Swifty, beers in hand but weapons close by. ‘No ladies?’

  ‘I decided against it,’ Moran told me. ‘One might have been with Tomo.’

  Swifty put in, ‘I had a nice girl, just a blowjob, no risk of nasty diseases.’

  ‘These are checked with the doctor regular, so don't worry too much.’

  ‘Yeah, well the one I was with is now with Dicky, and I ain't sharing.’

  ‘Tomo has two with him, and they seemed pleased to see him,’ Ginger noted.

  Mitch came in and sat.

  I faced him, ‘Well?’

  ‘I had massage and a blowjob. Needed a massage after the flying, and she was OK.’

  Moran asked me, ‘You any further forwards on the intel?’

  ‘Going around in circles at the moment, but we uncovered a double-agent here, shot out his knees. He's in the woods, naked, tied to a tree.’

  ‘I'll take the comfy bed over that,’ Mitch put in.

  My phone trilled. ‘Can you talk?’ came a British accent.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Duty Officer, SIS. Hollister suffered a stroke, now in hospital.’

  ‘I'll send flowers. Did he say anything?’

  ‘No, he said he would take what he knows to the grave.’

  ‘I think I have most of the story anyhow. It was about stealing drugs and making money. Drugs were taken off that boat.’

  ‘And a boat in the ocean depths is hard to search.’

  ‘Yep. Wilco out.’

  I checked my watch and called Franks, getting a rating. I had to wait.

  ‘Franks here.’

  ‘It’s Wilco. We caught one of your ex-employees, or contractors, Chanon. He's now tied naked to a tree, kneecaps shot out.’

  ‘That’s gunna hurt in the morning. Is he talking?’

  ‘He fed me a story, which we've unravelled. Drugs were not on the ship that sank, they were stolen by your ex-contractors. The story from Hollister was just that, a story. And I'm doubting North Korea is involved here since the region is supposed to be awash with guns after the fighting ended.’

  ‘Are you still going into Nicaragua?’

  ‘Got to find a target first, then decide. And I'm sure they’ve set a trap for me somewhere, but we don't know where that somewhere is, and Hollister had a stroke tonight – he's not talking. No one has hinted at a location yet.’

  ‘So what'll you do?’

  ‘Wait a few days for fresh intel. You kick back.’

  ‘Kick back? I'm in a small bunk!’

  ‘In that case, curl up your knees.’

  ‘Here's Major Harris.’

  ‘Wilco?’

  ‘Yeah, how's the food on that tub?’

  ‘Good, and it’s all very modern. I've chatted to the Top Gun pilots and had a look at the radar set-up here. So, what’s the plan?’

  ‘We're waiting some good intel, no hurry to raid an empty farm in a swamp.’

  In the morning I called David. ‘How's Hollister?’

  ‘Mumbling, drooling, paralysed down one side...’

  ‘Did he say anything?’

  ‘He said he'd fight us to the last, then keeled over.’

  ‘Could he fake a stroke?’

  ‘We checked carefully, and he's not faking it. But he won't be let go anyhow. If he wants to pretend to be paralysed he can do it in prison. You told our people that the drugs were taken off..?’

  ‘Yes, my intel says it was a trick, the drugs to be sold on. No one can search a ship in deep water, and it was supposed to sink mid-Atlantic.’

  ‘Hiding the evidence, or lack thereof. What'll you do?’

  ‘Piece together the real story; I have an ex-CIA contractor being questioned as we speak.’

  My next call was Tinker. ‘It’s Wilco, you got anything?’

  ‘Got a good pattern, and we checked around the location of HTZ and found calls to Nicaragua and the Congo.’

  ‘Very suspicious, yes.’

  ‘They're linked in to Hollister indirectly, in that two phones were use, three times, at the exact same spot, a cosy two star hotel in East London, a gay haunt.’

  ‘That would be him, yes.’

  ‘We have a cluster on the coast of Nicaragua, an isolated small port, and a place fifty miles inland, and on the map it says there are just dinosaurs living there.’

  ‘A port suggests a ship, but to ship what? They grow coffee not drugs.’

  ‘The hit in the Congo is a town where the rebel leader is based, and their civil war is heating up.’

  ‘Could be guns and anti-personnel mines, Nicaragua is supposed to be awash with them,’ I noted. ‘Hold on.’ I got out my notepad and then wrote down the map references.

  Inside, I laid out a large map in the room I had used as HQ when planning the attack on the Cali Cartel. Salome and Gay Dave assisted me, Moran and Ginger wandering in to find me.

  I told them, ‘We have a small port, here, and a base inland … here.’ I marked the map.

  Moran leaned in. ‘How can you have a port with no town or roads?’

  ‘Well, when I say port, I mean a place where guns could be loaded to a ship.’

  ‘And that inland location is … nowhere, not even a track.’

  ‘Good for hiding things, likes drugs and guns,’ I told them.

  ‘Aerial recon?’ Ginger asked.

  Nodding, I took out my phone and called Franks, giving him the coordinates. ‘I want daylight high-altitude recon photos, and thermal at night.’

  ‘Be on it now, Navy are keen to do something.’

  ‘Tell them that the port is used for loading guns, that'll keep them interested.’

  Back with the team, we discussed what we might do.

  Moran suggested, ‘We land ten miles from the jungle hideout and walk in, the US Marines land at that port and search it.’

  I nodded. ‘Nicaraguan Government will be pissed, so we need evidence, solid evidence.’ I stepped out and called Libintov.

  ‘Ah, Petrov, how are you?’

  ‘Good. Listen, the Congo civil war; who's supplying guns?’

  ‘Ah, all sorts, but the budgets are not great. They pay in blood diamonds.’

  ‘Heard anything about weapons landed by ship?’

  ‘Ship landing … where? Ships land in Ivory Coast and I sometimes fly the cargo to the Congo.’

  ‘And weapons delivered in the last few months, and what were they?’

  ‘My spies said there were two batches, AK56 and Chinese mortars plus mines, lots of mines.’

&nb
sp; ‘Chinese. Interesting. Try and get some serial numbers.’

  ‘They had none.’

  ‘None?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Chinese and Russian weapons always have serial numbers. Hard to remove.’

  ‘These had none.’

  ‘So they were made to be sold.’

  ‘You know who?’ Libintov asked.

  ‘Smart money is on North Korea.’

  ‘Shit, I'll have to avoid the consignments, Americans will be all over them.’

  ‘Do you know which ships transported them?’

  ‘One ship I know, Cortez III.’

  ‘South American. Thanks.’ I called London.

  ‘Duty Officer.’

  ‘It’s Wilco, run a ship's name, Cortez III.’

  ‘Hold on.’ A full two minutes later he came back with, ‘Panama registered, owned by a Chinese company, they run fertilizer around the Caribbean.’

  ‘They also supply guns to West Africa, Ivory Coast, so put a team on it fast. Oh, can you supply Major Harris with all intel updates when you get them. Ask GCHQ to do the same.’

  ‘Will do.’

  I called Tinker. ‘Ship called Cortez III, I want its movements and GPS positioning and phone use. Go all out, it’s out best lead.’

  ‘I'll call them now.’

  After staring at my phone, guards wandering past, some of mine sat in the sun and relaxing, I called Franks with a grin. ‘Listen, pass this to the Navy, from me, official. If a ship, Cortez III, approaches a US Naval vessel, assume it hostile and packed with explosives.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Wilco out,’ I said with a mischievous grin. ‘They wanted some action...’

  I rallied Moran, and he would take the lads up to the training grounds, to return after sun down. He would sort magazines and ammo.

  Tinker called back an hour later, as I sat outside with Tomsk, cold lemonade to hand. ‘That ship, it runs from several Central American ports, Caribbean side, mostly to the islands or Brazil, a few trips to West Africa.’

  ‘Got any manifests?’

  ‘Some, old ones, it takes fertilizer to West Africa.’

  ‘Bollocks, it takes guns. Has it docked in Nicaragua?’

  ‘Records say no, GPS says it got to with five miles of that location I gave you.’

  ‘Ship-to-ship transfer. Where is it now?’

  ‘South of Havana, heading due south. It'll pass the Nicaraguan coastline.’

  ‘Excellent.’