Wilco- Lone Wolf 19

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘I'm sending in a helo.’ I turned to the radio operator. ‘Send a medivac helo back to where they just picked up two men, escort Huey. Fast!’

  I saw a medic from the tent walking past. ‘Medic, get the tents ready, wounded civilians coming in, at least four!’

  The man rushed down to the tents, a Seahawk setting down a few minutes later close to the tents, our two wounded reporters carried out, their hands tied.

  I faced Morgen, ‘Secure those wounded prisoners, they're dangerous.’

  Marines ran off, M16s ready.

  I went and found Major Spencer. ‘We have wounded civilians coming in, plus two prisoners. Make sure that the prisoners are flown to Panama City as soon as they can be, you have jurisdiction. Make them talk – the men posing as journalists. And the wounded, send them to Panama City and have them filmed being treated well, very well.’

  He rushed to the medical tents.

  I called the Panama minister. ‘Call back your friends in Costa Rica. We've taken prisoners, and they will talk, and we captured Russian mercenaries. Worry that Interior Minister.’

  ‘I will do so, yes.’

  He called me back a few minutes later. ‘That Minister is dead, shot, his bodyguards missing.’

  ‘Update his president please.’

  ‘I did so, they now worry he was selling out to the drug cartels.’

  ‘He was. How many more?’

  ‘There will always be some, yes.’

  Phone down, I had to wonder what was going through is mind, since he took money from Tomsk.

  My phone trilled. ‘It’s Slider, and Tomo and Nicholson shot most of this lot in the arse or the legs. I think there's four that will make it.’

  ‘Bind their wounds, get them on the Huey. Any wounds our side?’

  ‘Wolf got a scrape, another has a splinter in his arse, right in the hole.’

  ‘Ouch. Send them as well. Is the second Huey still there?’

  ‘Yeah, circling.’

  ‘Get me all the phones as fast as you can. Wilco out.’ I found the Wolf captain. ‘Update your men, have them sneak out and head here, we got the Russian gunmen. But make sure they tell us when they get close. In fact, don't use the tree line, use the fucking road.’

  He lifted his sat phone.

  The Colonel approached. ‘Who're the two wounded men hog-tied?’

  ‘They were sat with long lenses, sir, waiting for me and my men to approach the village that was massacred.’

  ‘So they work for the bad guys then, not Reuters.’

  ‘They do, sir.’

  ‘What'll you do with them?’

  ‘Panama police have jurisdiction here.’

  ‘And will they get a fair trial?’

  ‘Did the women and children in that village get a fair execution, sir?’

  He stared back. ‘I'm guessing that the local police will make them talk.’

  ‘They will, sir, red hot poker up the arse.’

  ‘This has been an eye-opener for sure. We just leaving the bodies in that village to get ripe, Major?’

  ‘Could be claymores sat ready. And their own authorities know about it and will be sending people. I'm not throwing lives away.’

  ‘And the reason for that thinking? A fear for your men, or a worry about the blame game?’

  ‘You're not as dumb as you look, are you.’

  He smiled. And waited.

  ‘The answer is … a bit of both, sir. I won't hold back my men, but I won't throw away lives unless the pay-out is worth it. And right now the bad boys are trying hard to get me blamed and discredited.’

  ‘There are now radio ships off the coast of Mexico, near Tiujana, hoping for some indiscreet chat.’

  ‘We might get lucky, sir, but generally the intel follows a line like a trail of gunpowder; one bit of evidence leads to the next. And most of the good intel comes by accidentally tripping over it.’

  He pointed north. ‘I have the diggers making trenches, and we'll man them, but come the rains they'll fill up, so we're using sandbags, and I requested a great many more.’

  At noon two Hercules lined up, loudly announcing their arrival, and we soon had Marines seen lugging heavy fifty cal machineguns and M82, with its heavy ammo. And most of these had come from the Canal Zone here in Panama. Up on the roof the Colonel had sandbag positions made, and any intruders would now get a nasty shock.

  With the Marines came CIA and FBI, Franks greeting them and getting them a coffee as Major Morgen organised more tents. With the tents up, beyond the medics, the mechanical diggers made walls, and now this airport was looking like a US base in Vietnam. A base that had taken a beating.

  I had not noticed the CNN and ABC news crews till I stumbled over them. ‘You lot. You don't film special forces soldiers, only from behind, and then you check with their CO. You'll know the men not to film, they look dirty and tired and lazy.’

  ‘Major Wilco, yes? You look just like the guy in that film.’

  My shoulders dropped. ‘If I had a dollar. Yes, I'm him.’

  ‘Can we have an interview?’

  Sighing, I pulled out my facemask and put in on, the cameramen grabbing their kit, the reporters taking out microphones. ‘Follow me.’ On the apron I stopped. ‘Use the backdrop of the helicopters south.’

  The cameramen got into position. I pointed at the lady. ‘Take it in turns, no fighting please.’

  ‘Three … two … one … Major Wilco, have we seen the last of the cruise missiles and guided rockets?’

  ‘We don't how many are out there, and we keep finding more. The North Koreans could have supplied twenty, or a thousand, we have no solid intel on the numbers.’

  ‘And who's behind this?’ the man asked.

  ‘It all started with a Russian defector called Terotski, codename Catfish. He defected in 1990, before the collapse of the Soviet Empire. He was relocated to Canada, where he faked his own death with the duplicity of CIA agents -'

  ‘CIA agents sold out?’

  ‘They did, yes, and this morning we caught a retired British agent.’

  ‘Were they recruited by the Russians?’

  ‘No, there's no evidence of Russian involvement here, and there are no political motives. Terotski was a missile designer for the Soviets, and instead of enjoying his retirement and taking up fishing he recruited an intelligence ring, contact made with the North Koreans, weapons moved through Nicaragua.’

  ‘Was the Nicaraguan Government involved?’

  ‘No, definitely not, they're trying to fix their country. The drug cartels facilitated weapons without serial numbers moving from the Pacific side to the Caribbean side, to go by ship to West Africa, to Ivory Coast. The ships were called The Cortez, and the Harvest Orion.

  ‘British Intelligence got involved when a ship heading to Europe blew up and sank off the British coast. If was reportedly carrying drugs, but that turned out to be a trick, the drugs had been transferred to the Cortez – which the US Navy boarded.

  ‘We tracked back the ship and its crew, and the drug link, and found the North Korean weapons by chance. That widened the investigation to include the North Koreans, and we discovered a crashed transport plane with guided rockets on board.

  ‘After the seizure of the drugs the cartels vowed revenge, and guided rockets were fired at this airport, and at civilian targets here in Panama. The location was chosen because there's a turf war going on with the Tiujana Cartel; they want to move into Panama and the government here is doing a good job of keeping them out.

  ‘This airport was targeted by cruise missiles, and someone – maybe an airport employee, placed a transmitter on the roof for the cruise missiles to home in on. The cartel knew that British and American special forces were here, and that we're a threat to them and their operations along the border here.’

  ‘They targeted American personnel?’

  ‘Yes, deliberately. What you don't know ... is how many secret missions the British and American teams have run in this
area in the past, against the drug cartels. Those cartels wanted revenge, and they hoped for a great loss of life here, the hope being that the President pulls out American forces and is reluctant to send them back in.

  ‘It is a perception by many ... that US presidents worry about their ratings when coffins come home draped in flags. So the cartel was hoping for that, hoping for your President to blink first.’

  ‘A ship was sunk today?’

  ‘Yes, a ship to the south of us was spotted, missile launch ramp on board, and was buzzed by your F18s till a British Lynx helicopter was on station. That helicopter fired at the ship and damaged it, but the crew refused to cut their engines. A British warship then fired on that missile ship, giving the crew enough time to abandon ship, which they did. The crew are in custody.’

  ‘Here an F18 shot down a missile?’

  ‘Yes, the brave pilot came in at three hundred knots, just above the height of this terminal building, and slammed two Sidewinders into the cruise missile. It crashed in the hangars south. A second missile failed to detonate and was blown up.

  ‘What you don't know yet ... is that this morning a group of thirty Costa Rican police commandos were dispatched by their Interior Minister to this region, ambushed and slaughtered, along with a village full of people, women and children. The cartel was hoping that we would get the blame.

  ‘The men responsible for that massacre met my men in the bush and have been killed or captured. We suffered no injuries. We also rescued wounded civilians from that village.’

  ‘And FBI Agent Manstein, he took his own life?’

  ‘Yes, a pity, I wanted to shoot the bastard.’

  ‘Why was he handed to the local police?’

  ‘This is their country, they have jurisdiction. If one of you commits a crime, they don't let you go because you have an American passport.’

  ‘The Panama police were remiss, he should have had no shoelaces...’

  ‘I won't be losing any sleep over his death, but I had some questions for him, not answered now.’

  ‘What do you expect to happen here, Major?’

  ‘The drugs industry will never change, there'll always be a drugs industry so long as Americans pay good money for cocaine. What’s happening now is that the cartels are growing and competing, and trying to kill each other off, and they don't care how they do that. Guns, bombs, guided missiles, they have the money.

  ‘Panama is a lucrative area for drug trafficking from Colombia up to the States, so the Tiujana Cartel wants to move in here. In cooperation with the Panama Government, British and American special forces and CIA agents have been keeping them out, so it’s a territorial war, but has spilled out into open combat and terrorism.

  ‘When people like the drug cartels get guided cruise missiles it’s time to worry. They could sink a US Naval vessel, a cruise liner, or hit a 747 in flight. We're in a fight now, not a fight of our choosing. The cartels are not just shooting each other, they're using missiles, innocent civilians caught in the mix.

  ‘And if the cartels could get hold of nerve agent, they'd use it, they care nothing for civilian deaths. They've grown strong and arrogant, and if not stopped they'll bring down a plane or sink a cruise liner. And keep in mind that just one of those cruise missiles would sink an American aircraft carrier.’

  ‘Is the Navy vulnerable?’

  ‘Now is the time to review that, and to plan ahead. When those missiles were in the hands of the Russians it was not a problem of proliferation. Now it is, as was seen in Yemen.’

  ‘Is the fighting here linked to Yemen?’

  ‘No, there is no direct link, but twice now we've seen sophisticated missiles in the hands of terrorists or drug cartels, not in the hands of governments.’

  My ear piece crackled, Swifty. ‘Got someone sneaking in, rifle in hand.’

  I placed a finger on my earpiece. ‘Shoot the bastard.’ The fire was heard, the news crews looking up. I told them, ‘Infiltrator. Don't worry.’

  The rooftop fifty call pounded out a loud burst, a blast registering from the far side, Marines seen running, the reporters now on their knees.

  ‘Report,’ I transmitted.

  Swifty responded, ‘It was two men, one with an RPG. This building will need some new paint I think.’

  ‘It’s OK, it was due to be decorated anyhow.’ I faced the reporters. ‘Any more questions?’

  ‘How much danger are we in?’

  ‘How much danger are your young Marines in, protecting the perimeter here, fighting so that you lot are safe back home?’

  The man shut up, but they headed inside, the wounded civilians landing by helo, soon followed by wounded Russians, followed thereafter by a steady stream of body bags, all being filmed.

  David Finch called. ‘We've linked Chalmers to Hollister, and wish we hadn't obviously. Now throwing up some phone links.’

  ‘If he talks then he's our best bet with Terotski, although having said that I doubt Terotski revealed where he is to Chalmers.’

  ‘No, unlikely. How is it there?’

  ‘I've got CNN here with cameras, so we'll have to be careful what we say and do. I'll shine my shoes.’

  ‘It’s all over the news here as well, been two sixty-minute specials, and your man Max has been sending out images and stories.’

  ‘He sold the film rights, his life story.’

  ‘I heard yes, we should be on a commission.’

  ‘I … should be on a commission, and since I have two body-doubles I should be on triple time.’

  ‘That body double in Mexico hasn't been filmed doing anything naughty yet.’

  ‘We don't think he will be filmed. We think that they want him to take power here.’

  ‘Well, yes, Petrov was seen as the strong man, and as being responsible for putting Tomsk in power. You created the Robin Hood legend, but did too good of job at it I'm afraid. But I wonder, is Gay Dave in danger - will they want him out the way.’

  ‘Well … yes, probably. But not much we can do, he's playing at being a tough bodyguard – he can't be seen to be guarded by anyone else.’

  ‘An odd conundrum, yes.’

  Franks approached me half an hour later, now a little more awake. ‘Grenade was thrown at Marines here, Canal Zone.’

  ‘A bit lame, but expected. Why aren't they on alert?’

  ‘They are, have been for two days, all movements restricted, men on the wire.’

  ‘Anyone killed?’

  ‘Six wounded.’

  He was back half an hour after that. ‘That grenade, it was a local pimp worked over by Marines and not paid. We're labelling it as a terrorist attack.’

  ‘Better than the truth, eh.’

  ‘Shit, yeah.’

  The American and British Wolves started to appear, and many had minor wounds looked at, cuts and scrapes, all told to get some down time and some fresh food, the local army mess tent busy, the ladies in the shop very busy – not least with home-cooked fried chicken fillets.

  We now had many more camp beds, and a shit load of tents set-up halfway to the treeline north, mud walls around them, trenches dug. The American Wolves occupied that tented city with a few Marines.

  I stepped to a group of four pilots sat eating that home-cooked chicken. ‘You're supposed to eat rations when in the field.’

  ‘Yeah, where'd it say that? We softies live on ship; nice meals, warm showers, comfy beds.’ They laughed.

  ‘You coping with your pig pens?’

  ‘All settled in, and Salome doesn't snore.’

  ‘You on first name terms now?’

  ‘She doesn't like to be called Major, says it makes her sound old.’

  ‘Seen her naked yet?’

  ‘She showered when we went, but we all looked the other way.’

  They all nodded heads less than convincingly.

  ‘Make sure that doesn't get on CNN,’ I warned them.

  Up on the roof I called the Greenies up-country. ‘It’s Major Wilco, you
alive up there?’

  ‘We like it here, all snug, and we have fresh water, fruit, fresh game to kill.’

  ‘And the job at hand..?’

  ‘Scorecard is thirty-four men employed in the drugs trade now de-facilitated, a tonne of product or two destroyed, twenty fields of marijuana chopped down – which broke our hearts, about forty weapons recovered and stacked up here, about twenty buildings burnt down, some local phones collected. Locals stay away from this area now.’

  ‘When you're ready, rotate back for some R&R.’

  ‘We're all comfy here, Major.’

  ‘You up to date on everything that happened?’

  ‘We chat to Major Morgen twice a day, he keeps us informed.’

  ‘This place now looks like a bad Vietnam war movie, tents and sandbags.’

  At 5pm the ship's Captain landed, now with a wrist bound up. He greeted the Colonel and Major Morgen, asking questions.

  ‘What happened to your wrist, sir?’ I asked.

  ‘Your throw to the floor.’

  ‘Will I stand trial for assaulting a senior officer?’ I teased.

  He faced the Colonel and thumbed at me. ‘Shout comes, he judo rolls me down, shots whizz by, then his men got the sniper – or I'd be dead.’

  I told them, ‘Maybe best for men of rank not to stand on the roof, especially with shiny golden braid to attract a keen sniper.’

  ‘Still men out there?’ the Captain asked.

  ‘A few, sir, but less each day.’

  ‘Ships are still at General Quarters, and all ships within a hundred miles of any Central American country are at General Quarters.’

  ‘Fire alarm needs testing now and the, sir.’

  ‘Hell yes. And we have six destroyers off the coast, one submarine, and the Nimitz group was diverted from its planned round the world cruise. All they need is a suitable target. She's off the coast of Colombia now speeding north.’

  ‘How'd you like what we've done with place, sir?’

  He tipped his eyebrows. ‘I think the owners of the airfield might be pissed with us. Who're in the body bags I saw?’

  ‘Russian mercenaries and some assorted bad boys, sir, all working for the cartels. At least they were till we shot them full of holes.’