Wilco- Lone Wolf 22

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘He’s avoiding anyone with a heat-seeking missile.’

  ‘Yeah? Well … good idea,’ Rizzo enthused as worried men glanced out at small boats full of men fishing, the men in the boats probably wondering just what the fuck our crazy pilot was doing.

  A ship sped past, our nose lifted, and we climbed like a rocket. And I was sure that air traffic control were shitting themselves right now.

  Levelled off, and the captain came on with, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this is your captain, and welcome to Crazy Airways.’

  The lads exchanged looks.

  ‘This is a company jet, company pilots and crew, so the chances of getting there in one piece are slim.’

  The lads smiled.

  ‘We have some food for you, some coffee, but no inflight movie I’m afraid. We do have a few old magazines and some well-used paperbacks. Time to Texas will be about ten hours with the wind in our favour, then we turn west to San Diego after refuelling. If we have to ditch in the Caribbean it will be warm at least, just a few sharks to worry about.’

  ‘Pleasant fucker,’ Slider noted.

  The ladies brought down the trolley, coffee and tea handed out, small bottles of water. Tomo’s request to lay on the floor at the back of the plane was puzzled, but they assisted him, cushions laid out for him.

  When a lady served me, she said, ‘Wilco, right?’

  ‘Is my photo on file?’ I teased.

  ‘You look like that actor.’

  ‘I never got a penny from them,’ I complained.

  ‘Your man at the rear…’

  ‘Is a pain in the arse, yes. Ricochet in the buttocks.’

  ‘Painful spot to get shot,’ she noted with a grin. ‘Why is he even active?’

  ‘He shoots well, and to do that he lays on his front.’

  ‘I have pain killers…’

  ‘Give him some, yes, might make him shut up and sleep.’

  Swifty later noted, ‘I can see some nice beach hotels down there.’

  ‘Gambia probably,’ I told him.

  ‘Odd, to see nice hotels in this part of the world.’

  I checked my dirty finger nails. ‘Be some built in Monrovia soon enough, big fence around them. And when we hit the Caribbean, plenty of nice hotels to view. You not sleepy?’

  ‘I got three hours, a solid three hours. Be awake now for a bit then I’ll probably drift off.’

  The air hostesses handed out scented wet wipes and told the lads to wipe armpits, or else. I smiled as I accepted one, soon wiping my own arm pits.

  Swifty noted, wiping his groin area as well, ‘Now I smell lemony fresh, which has to be better than the usual smell.’

  ‘And your nurse?’

  ‘She smells lemony fresh most of the time as well. We have a room, and she bought some soap and shampoo and deodorant. We have a good wash first, long shower together.’

  ‘Lucky fuck,’ Moran told him as he sat with his arms folded, his eyes closed.

  ‘That nice lady captain…’ I teased.

  Moran opened his eyes. ‘She’s friendly, but not that friendly.’ He shrugged and closed his eyes again.

  I ran a finger over a scar on Moran’s forearm. ‘Where’d you get that?’ I puzzled.

  He looked at it. ‘Not sure, which is a worry. When you’re not sure where you got a big scar it’s time for a desk job.’

  ‘You’d be bored,’ I told him, a glance out the window.

  ‘Yeah, probably,’ he sighed out.

  I remained awake, and I glanced down at coastline before accepting a book about Everest attempts, the occasional peek down at the ocean, and at the myriad of small islands as we crossed the Caribbean.

  We bumped down somewhere unknown in Texas, a vast USAF base that stretched out forever, the lads yawning and less than fresh. When the pilot said that we had an hour – and a change of pilots - I had everyone down on the tarmac, MPs seen, and I had the team bend and stretch and then practise sprint relays.

  ‘Get those legs working!’ I shouted. ‘Or you’ll be no fucking use at all later!’

  Checking my phone, I called London and left an update, early evening there, afternoon here, then called GL4. They had a sealed envelope waiting for me. Harris was on his way already, the Americans alerted to his movements, but he would be in civvy clothes, uniform in his luggage.

  A missed call registered, so I called back Tomsk as I stood on the apron glancing at distant Hercules aircraft.

  ‘Where are you?’ he asked.

  ‘Just landed in Texas.’

  ‘I have the police in Panama alerted, but they’re very worried, and someone leaked it to the press, so maybe some tourists stay away now,’ he complained.

  ‘We can’t be sure what they’ll do with the missiles -’

  ‘Carlos got some information, and I promised this man in Tijuana a new life here, plenty of money. Some missiles will go to Cancun he says. Will take two or three days to get there.’

  ‘What will they be used for?’

  ‘He doesn’t know.’

  I called Bob Staines. ‘You awake?’

  ‘It’s 10pm, so get a globe and turn it slowly!’

  ‘Don’t be a bitch. What’s in Cancun in Mexico?’

  ‘Nice beaches, Aztec ruins, and British tourists.’

  ‘Missiles are on the way there, two or three days.’

  ‘To shoot down British airliners on approach maybe. They want to hit back at you, and hitting British civilians is the best way. It won’t do any good, but you have to see their mind set; they’re playing to their gang audience, not thinking clearly.’

  ‘The American element to this would never hit British tourists surely.’

  ‘If it causes panic, they might. And British tourists only make up around 20% of the Cancun trade, rest are Americans and lots of Canadians. So a plane shot down closes the airport and upsets a great many Americans about to plan a trip, coast to coast coverage Stateside and they get what they want. You need to warn London.’

  ‘My next call. You have Car 55 ready?’

  ‘Yes, and others, and suitable cartridges pre-loaded.’

  I called GL4, and they would hand the sealed envelope to Tinker. In it was, I was certain, a list of Saudis to be retired, and a hornets’ nest to be kicked over.

  I studied my phone for a minute, then called London.

  ‘Duty Officer.’

  ‘It’s Wilco. Send to David Finch and Director the following. My intel sources now confirm movement of Stingers from Tijuana to east coast, Cancun tourist area, British airliners to shoot down on approach, timescale of at least three days before missiles are in place.’

  ‘Bloody hell, there’ll be panic – and a few pissed off tourists! My brother is due to fly there next month.’

  ‘Better he alters his plans, and goes to Benidorm instead.’

  I called Langley, getting the Deputy Chief.

  ‘Wilco? We have the NSA looking at Tijuana, and we have contacts in the area, some gossip of weapons being delivered from that ship.’

  ‘I have good men in the area, and the Stingers - some off them, are being taken east to Cancun to shoot down British airliners.’

  ‘They want back at you? Jesus, this is personal.’

  ‘What if they hit the wrong plane, and it’s one of yours?’

  ‘Be a panic, followed by a shit load of claims as people cancel holidays down there, followed by the boys on the hill wanting blood – and my head on a plate.’

  ‘You got the intel, you got two or three days, so they can’t complain. Send it up the line now.’

  ‘So this about revenge? Shooting down civilian aircraft?’

  ‘The mind-set of the gang, as was pointed out to me. It won’t stop us from operating, but it may appease the lower ranks.’

  ‘Jesus, tattooed idiots stroking each other’s cocks and egos.’

  ‘There is another element, and … some powerful men in your neck of the woods want the chaos, especially with mid-term elec
tions coming.’

  ‘Same shits as the fissile material?’

  ‘Linked in, yes. And desiring a swing towards the right.’

  ‘Ha, no need, the incumbent is doing a good job of putting people off the Democrats.’

  ‘And if they get a majority at the next election, the folks all afraid…’ I posed.

  ‘They could start a small war someplace, yes,’ he conceded.

  ‘Iraq won’t be a small war,’ I warned him.

  ‘You sure that’s the aim here?’

  ‘More or less.’

  ‘Do you know where the Stingers came from?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And..?’

  ‘A friendly nation.’

  ‘We have a global inventory, and the right to ask questions and inspect depots!’

  ‘When the news hits you’ll get a tonne of shit, then try and hide the evidence. They’re a friendly nation.’

  ‘They can’t lose Stingers! We have agreements in place.’

  ‘We’ll chat about that some other time, and not on the phone.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Send it up the line, get an opinion for me, I’m heading to San Diego.’

  ‘They have a task force being assembled, and it’s on the news, as well as that ship sinking. All our ships near Mexico are at General Quarters, all scared shitless of a cruise missile.’

  ‘This will get out of hand,’ I said with a sigh.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I think I know their plan, and … you won’t be getting any sleep.’

  ‘And just when the fuck do you share that with me?’ he barked.

  ‘When I have a better idea of what’s going on, some better intel. Get me that opinion.’

  ‘And the plan here is what..?’

  ‘I send my team in to blow the missiles when we know where they are.’

  ‘Could bomb them.’

  ‘Need to be sure what they are first, eyes on. Need to be sure we have the right missiles, no fakes nor decoys. Oh, while I think of it, I want an expert on Stingers to meet me in San Diego.’

  ‘I can handle that, yes, but listen, if the news leaks, and people cancel holidays, someone will take the blame here…’

  ‘I stand by my intel as stated to you, so put my name on it. They can bill me.’

  ‘They may try and bill the Brit government!’

  ‘In which case … I won’t be popular back home.’

  Staring at the phone, I called GCHQ. ‘It’s Wilco. Who’s handling the phone patterns in Tijuana?’

  ‘Hold on, that’s Rick.’

  ‘Wilco?’ came a few seconds later.

  ‘Yeah. What we got on the Tijuana Cartel?’

  ‘We’ve made great progress. After you finished in Central America we kept at it, and we have a man with a Mexican accent, and he’s now believed by several locals to be a lieutenant. He chats to a man at the airport, at the docks, and at some lonely road checkpoint. He gets the gossip.’

  ‘Anything on the Stingers?’

  ‘We’ve been hard at it, dropping hints, and have a lead from the man at the docks, someone he drinks with – a name, and we traced the man and hacked his phone; the idiot sends text messages. Something about a movement east.’

  ‘Yes, Stingers were sent east, to shoot down British tourist airliners in Cancun.’

  ‘Bloody hell, I was there last year.’

  ‘Use that information, give it to the men who don’t have it, see where it goes. Do you have a location on Charall?’

  ‘We think so, yes. He had an indiscrete row on the phone the other day, we have the local tower hacked, but they use code words.’

  ‘I have a man that could get the code words to you. Concentrate on Charall, and any storage facility, a heavily protected one. I’ll get back to you.’

  I called Carlos. ‘It’s Petrov. Does your man in Tijuana know what the cartel code words mean?’

  ‘Yes, they are all about football.’

  ‘Can you get me a list? Send it to Tomsk by fax.’

  ‘I get them to do that now. And the border … it should be loud later.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  My phone trilled, David Finch. ‘This warning about British planes. If you’re wrong…’

  ‘What’s the alternative? We wait the first plane hit and then say we knew but were not sure?’

  ‘That would be a hard conversation to have with the PM, yes.’

  ‘My sources are solid, and so far everything dovetails nicely together. GCHQ just confirmed a movement of weapons or missiles east.’

  ‘I’ll check what they have, then go see the PM, an initial warning.’

  ‘We have a few days, so more intel may appear,’ I assured him. ‘And if something goes wrong you can blame me.’

  ‘Already have enough politicians complaining that you’re a lone wolf, don’t need more.’

  ‘Lone wolf eh. Let me know what the PM says, I’m about to fly to San Diego, however long that takes from here.’

  Stood outside, thinking, I called Colonel Mathews. He was still in the office.

  ‘Ah, Wilco, there’s a panic on, Navy gearing up, and they mentioned your name?’

  ‘Sir, get some spare shirts and socks and a shit load of coffee.’

  ‘Ah hell. What we looking at here?’

  ‘I want you to plan a scenario, the closing of the Mexican border with a full mobilisation of police, FBI, National Guard and regular soldiers.’

  ‘What the fuck for?’

  ‘The Tijuana Cartel will try and sneak weapons across the border soon.’

  ‘We can’t deploy soldiers -’

  ‘Politicians are chatting about a temporary order to allow it.’

  ‘That would be a first since the 1960s, so what the fuck is going on?’

  ‘Not yet, sir, but start to get ready. Put all special forces on alert, some training exercise near the border, start moving them south but quietly.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Some air base in Texas.’

  ‘You kept that quiet!’ he complained.

  ‘Walls have ears. I’ll have more for you tomorrow, make a start, and yes – you should be worried. Oh, and I want operational control on the ground, so send that request up the line.’

  I called Miller’s boss.

  ‘Ah, Wilco, we were just talking about the situation. Delaney is chatting the boys on the hill as we speak.’

  ‘Does he understand the full picture?’

  ‘Yes, and he’s mad as hell.’

  ‘He’s a Republican, and this will help mid-term…’

  ‘It may, but we’re not in control here, and we don’t like that.’

  ‘Start moving police and FBI to the border, and special forces, pretext of an exercise, I’ve already asked Colonel Mathews to do that.’

  ‘Reuters is reporting panic in Panama, flights cancelled.’

  ‘It leaked, and it will leak here soon enough, so get ready.’

  I led Brigson and his mate, plus Muscles and Dobbin, to one side. ‘Brigson, you two are veterans, and this job should not be an issue, but there may be some close-up fighting. These cartel men are shite, but there are lots of them, and they may pay the local police and army to help them.

  ‘Over there, don’t let yourself get caught, they’d burn you alive, so the last bullet is for yourself.’ I faced the other two, and they looked just like my lads. ‘Muscles and Dobby, right?’

  ‘Dobbin, Boss, but either will do’

  ‘You’re new, but you have the skills and you’ve seen a little action. Don’t fear these cartel men, they’re civvies who don’t even know if their weapon is cocked. Don’t trust any locals on the ground, not even police or doctors, they’d all sell you out. Stick to your pairs and teams, follow my lads, and you’ll be fine.

  ‘And don’t worry about a high body count. You see some idiot with a gun, shoot the fucker and enjoy it. These are drug dealers; best place for them is in the ground.’

&
nbsp; In warm afternoon air we were led to a room, cold water in bottles, tea and coffee provided by keen airmen.

  A colonel stepped in with an aide.

  I called, ‘Ten-hun.’

  ‘So, Major Wilco, yes.’ We shook.

  ‘Your base, sir?’

  ‘Yes, and we got the note about tight security.’ He glanced at the bottled water. ‘You have everything you need?’

  ‘Got some strippers, sir?’

  He smiled. ‘In the local town, yes.’

  ‘We’ll fly soon, less of security headache for you.’

  ‘I have a brother, Navy, was in the thick of it last month, his wife none too happy, but we all signed up to do a job and take a risk.’

  ‘We did, sir, yes.’

  Tomo approached and addressed the colonel. ‘Wouldn’t happened to have a haemorrhoid cushion would you, sir?’

  I blinked.

  The colonel frowned. ‘Since I don’t have haemorrhoids, no!’

  ‘He was shot in the arse, sir,’ I explained.

  ‘Ouch. But I have just the thing in the jeep.’ He fetched a flight neck cushion and handed it over. ‘For long flights.’

  ‘That’s fucking excellent, sir,’ Tomo thanked him, showing the lads the doughnut shaped cushion.

  I told the colonel, ‘My man will be less of a pain in the arse now. And if he’s killed on this mission I’ll steal that cushion for the flight home.’

  The colonel and his team laughed, and wished us well before they left us.

  Boarding the plane, I glanced at a line of Hercules sat waiting some attention, and we were soon heading west. It was dark when we landed at Miramar, made famous with the Top Gun movie. Security was tight, very tight, Franks and Dick waiting with a small team.

  With the team down and off the plane they were transported in a bus to a room, I was taken with Franks and Dick to another room. In that room I found a dozen senior naval officers in brown uniforms, plus Marines officers. I smiled warmly at Colonel Dehaviland and shook his hand.

  ‘Did they drag you out of bed, sir?’

  ‘I had nothing on anyhow,’ he quipped. He introduced most of the officers, finally the admiral in charge.

  ‘Odd to meet you finally, Major, and I saw the movie about Camel Toe. You look like that actor.’

  I held my hands wide and offered them all an exasperated sigh. ‘I never got a frickin penny, they never even consulted with me!’