by Geoff Wolak
‘- and the beer and good food, and the bonus they’ll get when we get back.’
Rocko and Rizzo were looking smug.
‘Tomo, I admire your fitness, or indeed your sexual desperation, as after a long hard job in the jungle you took three girls into the shower with you.’
Tomo smirked as people questioned him, all jealous as hell.
‘Did the British Army here not provide the rest of you with hookers?’ I teased.
‘No!’ came firmly back.
‘You can all be happy ... knowing that bonuses will be paid to all of you, thanks to those lads who came on the job.’
‘More like it,’ Slider noted.
‘If anyone asks ... yes you were in Colombia, no ... you can’t give the detail, and that Rocko and Rizzo slept through two separate attacks.’
They laughed, and jeered my staff sergeants.
‘All of those on the job ... RAF doctor to see when we get back, dicks to test!’
They laughed.
‘Dismissed till the morning,’ I told them, and sat with Moran and Hamble, going through what training the rest of the lads had been put through. ‘Fuzz fitting in?’ I asked.
‘He hadn’t done the HALO course, so they took him up, five jumps with hands help, so he’s got some experience now,’ Moran explained. ‘He works hard, wants to do well, so I see no issues.’
All of the other lads had completed four HALO drops, two day drops and two night drops, all in the jungle, long patrols afterwards, and all had completed long distance map reading exercises, some range work. But I had a surprise lined up for the team.
In the morning the lads all packed kit, but left crates behind in a secure storage area, and with the para instructors along we took an air-conditioned coach to an isolated beach hotel belonging to Tomsk, the only guests in this hundred room hotel, security tight.
I assembled everyone off the bus. ‘Listen up, this hotel is just for us for a few days, everything is free, and yes – I will organise some ladies. Get a room, you’ll find swimming trunks and robes in rooms, and ... kick back and relax.’
A perplexed group was led off by Tomo, Rizzo and Rocko, who were less perplexed and keen to get rooms.
That evening I sat on the balcony of my palatial suite, white fluffy robes around myself, Hamble and Moran, white wine in an ice-bucket, a sunset enjoyed; my balcony faced inland, west.
I turned to Hamble. ‘Your head any better?’
‘It’s better when I’m away, not waking every morning to expect another letter. I’m thinking of killing the postman.’
I nodded. ‘You’ll get past it.’ The room phone trilled, the room maid bringing it over. ‘Hello?’
‘Sir, your guests are here.’
‘Allocate rooms, I’ll be down now.’ I handed the phone back to my private maid.
Five minutes later, and Franks was eyeing up my white fluffy slippers and robe. ‘This is my boss, Rick Jacobson.’
I shook the man’s hand as he smiled at my robe.
Beyond him, a US colonel in uniform turned around, two aides at his side, one being a tasty lady captain. ‘So, we meet at last,’ Colonel Mathews stated, and we shook. He was thick set, a square jaw and square bald head.
‘This hotel...?’ Franks began.
‘Belongs to a Russia drug lord, so ... nothing written down,’ I said with a smile.
‘Jesus,’ his boss let out.
The two Cabinet Office guys stepped in with bags, our JIC mandarins absent, probably because I never told them about this place. I shook their hands and got them rooms.
An hour later, and now dressed, I sat at a large round table as my guests finished their third course, waiters on hand.
‘And this is all free?’ Colonel Mathews nudged.
‘Yes,’ I told him with a grin. ‘And since we are all here now, and fed, some beer down, the matter at hand.’ I took in their faces. ‘If the job had gone wrong we would have blamed the Russian gang, and two Russians were killed – bodies left behind. No ID on the bodies, but DNA could be matched if someone wanted to look hard enough.
‘Question is ... what next, since we destroyed a cartel that everyone thought was untouchable. What else ... could a well-trained team attack?’
Colonel Mathews began, ‘You think more cartels would fall?’
‘Sure of it, but they would be replaced in time, so it’s a sandcastle on the beach.’
‘FARC?’ Franks put in.
‘Would be easy enough to reduce their numbers at the border,’ I told him. ‘But they are spread far and wide.’
‘Gangs in Nicaragua, the pipeline people,’ his boss put in. ‘And all done with deniability.’
‘Whilst I was busy with the Cali Cartel, Tomsk was busy killing those Nigerians who had attacked British soldiers – and he would be happy assist in that manner in the future, no track back to any of us.’
‘Danger is -’ one of my Cabinet Office guys began, wiping his mouth. ‘- that Tomsk and his people would have a hold over us.’
‘As we have over them,’ I pointed out. ‘Tomsk is terrified of an aircraft carrier appearing off the coast. Gentlemen, and lady, there’s a chance here to destroy a few groups. Next year, who knows what the situation will be. And let’s be clear – each successful attack would be pinned as an American success, so draw up a shopping list and let’s look at it.’
‘I know what the White House will say,’ Colonel Mathews said with a sigh. ‘Divert resources to the Middle East.’
‘Not much of an overlap with the Middle East,’ I pointed out. ‘We have an opportunity here and now, and it would be a waste to ... well, waste it.’
‘This GCHQ role?’ Franks asked.
‘They have some smart people who can look for patterns in phone use and figure out who is who, where the bases are,’ I told them. ‘When I get back I’ll give them a nudge, it has lots of applications. They gave me the exact coordinates of secret bases, and told me which villas held the senior men.
‘You know how they figured where the senior men live?’ I took in their expectant looks. ‘They figured that the senior men would be disturbed the least late at night after an incident.’
Those around the table smiled.
‘Need a word with the NSA,’ Franks told his boss, who nodded, looking peeved. ‘Sometimes ... the simple solution is the best one.’
Later, stood at the busy bar, Rocko and Rizzo pointed out that they had not been searched.
‘Brize I said, not Belize,’ I lied.
They were not sure what I had said, and so sloped off shooting me looks.
I corned Fuzz. ‘You getting up to speed?’
‘I’m not complaining, Boss, but this is a really weird unit you’re running here.’
I smiled. ‘We have a style all of our own, yes. You think you’ll stay?’
‘You couldn’t lever me away, Boss,’ he threatened.
Swifty closed in. ‘Who are the Yanks?’
‘CIA and Pentagon E-Ring, which is like our UKSF Directorate – only they do a good job of it.’
‘Rocko and Rizzo had fun,’ he noted.
‘Job was disappointing, in that ... these Cartel bosses were just old married men in a house, not the ruthless killers I had expected. Easy to pick up a phone and order someone killed, not so easy for these old men to do it themselves. They were terrified we’d hurt their families and so caved in.’
Swifty nodded. ‘They be coming for you?’
‘No, we actually have a good relationship now. I got their families out of Colombia and got them some dodgy money. Nigerians might come for us.’
‘Why?’ Swifty puzzled.
‘Someone set off a bomb in the room holding the men behind the Liberia coup, no survivors.’
‘Someone ... could get the blame then,’ Swifty noted. ‘We heading back?’
‘No hurry, a few days here, bit of a break. Lads work hard and get killed for fuck all pay, so they deserve a few perks.’
‘Damn rig
ht. Moran spoke to the Major, fence back at GL4 has been improved, towers, GPMGs, the works. Call it Colditz now.’
‘It’s necessary, unfortunately,’ I said with a sigh. ‘Now more than ever.’
I had a one-to-one with Colonel Mathews for an hour, a similar one-to-one with Franks and his boss, and I would not be reporting the in-room massage service that a few gentlemen got.
The Cabinet Office guys left us the next day, as well as Colonel Mathews and his team, Franks and his boss in no hurry, and at noon a coach arrived, many of the Russian hookers from La Palma arriving, plus an assortment of supposedly high-class hookers paid for by Tomsk, many local to Belize.
Tomo grabbed two familiar girls and led them off, Rocko and Rizzo grabbing their girls.
Later, sat on the balcony, Moran said, ‘Whose arse is that?’
We peered down at the hedge around the pool, someone banging a hooker with vigour.
‘Looks like Slider’s arse, I put those stitches in,’ I noted. I faced Hamble. ‘You not having a massage?’
‘No...’ he sighed. ‘My head is not there yet.’
‘Be dead in a month,’ I told him. ‘Go for it.’
‘Well ... maybe,’ he agreed.
Moran noted, ‘Before I met you I was an officer with a career, thinking of getting married. Now I’m in a drug dealer’s hotel with prostitutes.’
‘Which do you prefer?’ I teased.
‘Could never go back to a desk,’ Moran said with a sigh. ‘Regular Army would be so tame, firing blanks.’
A short two days later I had to shout to get the lads dressed and ready to leave, and for faces to be shaved. With tans evident we returned to the training camp, kit collected and checked, crates checked for bombs, and we headed to the airport for our return flight, our long return flight. Still, it was a night flight and so most of the lads slept all the way.
We arrived back at “Colditz” around noon, the sky grey and a cold wind blowing, our counter-terrorism police on the gate, new tower noticed, new fence peeked at.
In the house I found a note from MP Peter. “Today is Tuesday, milk and bread in, heating is on.”
‘Good man,’ I quietly commended as I knocked on the kettle.
‘Huh?’ Swifty asked as he plonked kit down.
‘MP Pete left bread and milk,’ I told him. I was soon sat with a brew in hand, boots off, kit all over the floor.
‘I think I have sunburn,’ Swifty idly noted.
‘Put some cream on before you sleep,’ I softly answered. ‘There’s Savlon, use that.’
He nodded. ‘Will those Columbian fuckers come for you?’
‘No. Others might, Nigerians, not the cartel.’
‘Locals might not be happy with the extra security.’
‘Well ... they don’t see down here, down the road.’
‘I heard that the local armed police drive around a lot,’ Swifty noted.
‘Ah ... well they’d see that I guess. Still, it’s necessary.’
I was not that tired, so left Swifty to rest, and I walked around to the hangar, a chat to the Major before he left, a chat to O’Leary, soon a debate with Crab and Duffy about the next batch of police recruits; those recruits were due here next week.
I agreed that much of the training would be done in Sierra Leone, an element of risk, as well as realism.
I had lunch with Henri and Dicky, few others about save a troop of regulars down using our pistol range and Killing House, and headed back to the house, kit to clean.
The turn in the road
At 8pm, just as I was feeling tired, Tomsk called me. ‘Problems already?’ I asked him with a smile.
‘Yesterday I had a file delivered to me, by a courier, and it has your entire life story in it.’
I lost my smile, and I held my breath, a flush on my face, suddenly afraid, then realising that Tomsk was a long way off. The fear passed quickly as the anger built; this was the London Marathon all over again.
Tomsk continued, ‘You’re a captain in the British Army. I was sceptical, so I checked carefully, and got the photos of the London Marathon, and it is you.’
I breathed out a long sigh. ‘Yes, it is me. Captain Michael Milton, known as Wilco.’
‘You’re famous in Britain, all those rescues, and I asked Frank, and he’s a big fan of this Captain Wilco, but Frank doesn’t know about the file yet.’
‘Best not to tell anyone that I fooled you, you may lose some credibility.’
‘Well, yes, there is that,’ he softly agreed. ‘But tell me, why did you come to me? And where’s the real Petrov?’
‘The real Petrov is dead, his body on ice in London. I looked like him, scars from injuries in Bosnia -’
‘I have been learning all about Bosnia, and from some Serb soldiers. They called you The Ghost.’
‘Yes, and there’ll be a book out about it soon.’
‘They sent an entire infantry division after you, and you walked out alone, a great many dead Serbs, but I was not surprised by this. And the real reason you came to me?’
‘London wanted your organisation infiltrated and destroyed, you in prison.’
‘So ... why did you not do that?’ he puzzled.
‘First I wanted to bide my time and find out everything I could, but I liked training the men and leading them, probably too much, and then I had the idea about attacking the communists and tipping off London about drugs. After you started doing that they did not want you in prison so much, and then we started to tip off the Americans, and they cooperated on leaving you alone.’
‘You decided to do that, not London?’
‘Yes, my choice. London knew nothing till the first tip-off, then I convinced them it was a good thing.’
‘You saved my life, put me where I am! Why?’
‘Things unfolded, I had no plan, but it made sense to me to have someone in place that would cooperate, and after it got started London was happy about the deal and wanted it kept.’
‘Frank still says that the British are not allowed to kill people!’
‘That’s true, and someday I may answer for it, and a long list of other things I’ve done.’
‘You are world class actor, but that does not surprise me, you are a real spy, better than this fucking James Bond idiot on the TV. But why help me so much?’
‘You and Big Sasha are like family now, and I like the soldiers I trained. I would have resisted if they wanted to move on you.’
‘And now ... if they want to move on me?’
‘I’ll tip you off first, and worry about what they do to me later.’
‘You are a captain, you are supposed to follow orders!’
‘So they keep reminding me.’
‘And ... what happens now that I know?’ Tomsk asked.
‘Nothing happens, unless the detail gets out, but then you may look stupid.’
‘I say I knew all along, and many people think you are oddly connected to London and Washington anyhow.’
‘Will I still be welcome to visit?’
‘Yes, of course, I owe you everything.’
‘Do me a favour, put that file in a bag and taped up, addressed to Captain Wilco, SAS, and handed to the British Embassy. It may have prints on it, and I can find out which little shit wants me dead.’
‘I do that, yes.’
‘Describe it to me.’
He listed photos, and some seemed to be still images taken at the MOD building, then he described a photo of my daughter with Kate, detail on the back about her nursery, and a chill went through me, followed by more anger than I could control. I had to make a fist and control my breathing.
‘OK, pack it up, hand it all in, maybe I find these bastards. Try and find out who delivered it, track back to the courier company, get me their phone number.’
‘OK, and if you need some help, you let me know. These shits want you dead, I want you alive. But tell me, those scars on your body?’
‘From Bosnia, and other battles.’
‘And your real salary?’
‘Around £24,000 a year.’
‘My god, what a fool you are.’
I coughed out a laugh. ‘Thanks, but I’m not in it for the money.’
‘That is certain, yes. I will send my friend in London some money for you, but will the British grab it?’
‘No, I’ll give my team a bonus.’
‘Those soldiers, they worked for you?’
‘Yes, I recruited and trained them.’
‘After I read about you as Captain Wilco I felt better, to know I was duped by the best.’
‘An odd compliment. And you keep using that treadmill, eh.’
‘Now you sound like Big Sasha. But I am losing some weight. Tell me, No.2..?’
‘He didn’t know who I was till after I saved his life, and he woke on a British warship, very badly hurt. I took a few weeks to persuade him to work for me, but he never had issues with you, just the heat and the bugs. London offered him the chance to work with me.’
‘I know the soldiers prefer to work with you more than me.’
‘They’re soldiers, I’m a soldier, but they don’t hate you.’
‘And No.3..?’
‘He would have moved against you, yes.’
‘London wanted him stopped?’
‘They ever knew.’
‘Oh...’ came after a long pause.
‘If what I did was known by London it would be a big problem for me.’
‘Then we stay quiet, eh. And the President of Liberia?’
‘I did what I thought was best, and told London afterwards.’
‘Your fucking boss must love you!’
‘I do give him a few sleepless nights, yes.’
After the call, I stared out the window for a while, boiling with anger, and finally I called London. The Director herself called me back.
‘Ma’am, Tomsk took delivery of a file detailing who I really am, he knows the truth. And from what he described in the file it was one of ours that sent it.’
‘Christ. He called you and challenged you?’
‘Not quite, we’re still best of friends, status quo in place.’
‘You’re still ... on friendly terms?’ she puzzled.
‘Yes, Ma’am, he’s grateful for all I did, and not mad at me.’