Wilco- Lone Wolf 22

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘We built up a particular gang, and in West Africa they provided me with timely and vital intel on hostages, on gun runners, Islamic terrorists, all sorts. The quality of the intel was like nothing ever seen or recorded before, our success rate fantastic. It was labelled as the world’s most valuable source of intel.

  ‘But because I had built-up personal relationships I was key to the operation, and so – today – I find myself the nexus, the central point to which vital intel flows. I’m good at what I do, but the real hero is my phone: it does all the work.’

  ‘You had the insight to make friends, instead of killing some fella,’ came from the back. ‘A better approach than some of the lame managers we’ve had in the CIA and … in the damn White House.’

  ‘It was not planned, nor discussed, it just seemed to me that getting the intel for ten years was worth more than arresting one man.’

  ‘Excellent work, Major, whatever the reasoning,’ the same man commended.

  ‘Do they give you a free hand now?’ a man posed.

  ‘To some degree, yes, because I have the magic phone. But I discuss every step of an operation with London and Langley, and if they say it’s a no-go … then it’s a no-go.’

  ‘What’s the largest amount of money you’ve ever handled?’ a man asked, getting a look from Delaney.

  ‘What an odd question. Well, the largest amount was a set of Cali Cartel bank codes with several billion listed, Cayman Island accounts. I handed them in. In cash, I’ve handled twenty million, recovered and handed in, that much in blood diamonds.’

  ‘You were never tempted?’

  ‘And do what with it? Go sit on a beach and drink beer? I’d be bored in a day. Sorry to say, but I actually like this shit.’

  They laughed.

  ‘Can you tell us about the Lone Wolves?’

  I gave them a rundown over half an hour, tea and coffee finally brought in, a mini-break called.

  Stood with a group, a man asked, ‘Is the answer to many questions our special forces, or tanks and boats?’

  ‘In peacetime, your special forces and your Intel deal with the issues. But your aircraft carriers have made a hell of a difference in recent years, and some bad people have been shocked-shitless by an F18 dropping a bomb near them or tearing up a runway.

  ‘In recent decades your various presidents have held back, but my success record caused them to get involved, and one success led to another, and I made sure that there was always a cameraman standing by.

  ‘Fact is, my operations were not supported because of a genuine need, but because a few pricks with an eye on their ratings and career prospects wanted a good newspaper headline. Hostages? The White House doesn’t give a fuck until CNN is showing the families crying on prime time.’

  Heads were nodded.

  ‘I used the media and the publicity to get what I wanted, permission to go launch a risky hostage rescue. Before I came along … those hostages would have been left to rot.’

  Again they nodded.

  ‘In Africa, a town of a hundred thousand people are held hostage by twenty gunmen on the only road into town. For decades that was the case, still is in many places, a small group of armed men terrorising a large population. One platoon of your men could deal with them in a day. Just need the idiots in the White House to sanction it.’

  ‘Hell yes,’ an old guy agreed.

  A man had been studying me, I caught it from the corner of my eye, and he finally introduced himself, CEO of TLC. They made tanks and planes for the US military and some friendly states.

  ‘TLC, sir. Tender loving care?’ I joked.

  He laughed, ‘Tender loving bomb down someone’s throat maybe. So, you’re friendly with Delaney…’

  ‘We talk, yes, some common interests, and it’s good to have friends on the hill.’

  ‘A major in the British Army, who needs friends on the hill…’ He waited.

  ‘I get the difficult assignments, and political interference is one aspect that I’m trying to get a handle on. When I saw a need to get soldiers on your border, Senator Delaney offered to help. Otherwise, he may have blocked it just to spite the incumbent intern molester.’

  The man smiled widely. ‘You’re no fan of his I see.’

  ‘He is what he is, but I have to deal with him from time to time.’

  ‘But you’d like a tougher man there?’

  I was starting to get interested in this guy. ‘I would, yes. Two years, or less if the incumbent gets arrested.’

  ‘We can only hope,’ he joked. ‘But tell me; if I wanted assistance with selling hardware to Panama, would you be the man to talk to?’

  ‘I have to be careful what I say, even to you, sir.’

  ‘But the answer is not no … is it?’ he posed.

  ‘I could assist, yes.’

  ‘And West Africa..?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And would you be allowed to take a commission for your efforts?’

  ‘If you sent money to a nominated charity, it would break no laws or rules.’

  ‘It wouldn’t, no. And it would be tax deductible.’ He handed me his card, which I pocketed. ‘What would motivate you to assist us, because as you said you’re not financially motivated?’

  ‘The money can be used for a few very secret pet projects I have running.’

  ‘Such as?’ He waited.

  ‘Small private armies being trained up in various places, loyal to me.’

  ‘And you’re loyal to Washington and London?’

  ‘I’m loyal to the innocent civilian who gets kidnapped, killed or terrorised.’

  ‘A boy scout,’ he noted.

  ‘I don’t think they’d let me into the Scout Movement,’ I quipped and he laughed. ‘But I have an anger that needs an outlet, and in Africa I’ve seen villages wiped out. Tracking down the gunmen and slicing them up gives me a stiff cock.’

  ‘No mention of due process in there…’

  ‘Due process is only necessary … if you get caught.’

  He smiled widely. ‘These FBI mob. What was the view of Washington and London?’

  ‘I discovered the mob, then asked what to do. I even suggested we back off given who they were.’

  ‘Washington wanted them dealt with?’

  ‘Yes, it was not an issue for London.’

  ‘Was the White House involved in that decision?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Langley?’

  ‘They asked that I follow the evidence and stop the cruise missiles, rest was an accident, intel stumbled upon.’

  ‘Some of those supposed FBI mob men met with a grisly end…’

  ‘Not at my hands, not my team or anyone I know, but … I suspect another American group with its own interests.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘I suspect that secret organisations don’t like other secret organisations on their turf.’

  ‘I suspect … you’re correct, yes. And Langley?’

  ‘Lame and slow, and keen not to do anything naughty.’ He nodded his agreement. ‘I keep shocking them,’ I added, making him smile.

  ‘And Langley’s ability to deal with someone on home soil…’ he floated.

  ‘I would be both delighted, and shocked to fuck, if they did. Deputy Chief is … by the book and safeguarding his retirement.’

  He sighed. ‘As are many, yes.’

  Resuming, I used a blackboard to give a complex lesson on hostage rescue, the men all keen and wide-eyed. That led to everyone performing drills on the Valmet, my actor assisting since he was expert with the weapon now.

  On the range I lay next to many, adjusting position, advice dispensed as I worked down the line. Taking a break, scores tallied, I set-up ten targets and then walked sideways, always a look at the audience before turning, kneeling and shooting. Targets fetched back, and I had – luckily – hit every man-target in the chest twice.

  Fresh targets brought in, and I signed enough for each man to have two each, more photos posed fo
r with my facemask on.

  Taking a break, I nodded Delaney to one side. ‘The CEO of TLC wants me to be a bit naughty, cash in pocket.’

  ‘Play along,’ he firmly suggested.

  My garden gnome man finally approached, hats and t-shirts to sign.

  ‘Who do I make them out to?’ I toyed, making him smile.

  ‘The head of TLC, he made a pass?’

  ‘He was direct and to the point, money in my pocket. What’s his connection to you?’

  ‘He works closely with my bosses.’

  ‘Then we may cross paths in the future.’

  ‘You’ll assist him?’

  ‘We all have a role to play. Do you think I’m a good actor?’

  ‘I’m learning from you, the best. Your look-a-like is an amateur.’

  That amateur followed me back to my hotel, a meal on the cards, the staff and the Secret Service doing a double-take. Literally a double-take.

  ‘Oh excellent,’ Tiny let out when she saw him. ‘A threesome.’

  Bob the actor shook her hand. ‘Ma’am.’

  I told him, ‘She works undercover, and has been known to castrate a man – or ten.’

  ‘Ouch. Well I’m happily married.’

  ‘Boring wankers,’ Tiny let out, getting a pointed finger from me.

  After a wash and change we sat in a corner in the main restaurant, people puzzling us, photos refused – or we’d start shooting.

  ‘I’m listening to your accent. I think I have it down, but how you break sentences interests me, so I have that aspect down today.’

  ‘Come to the UK, have some real training. Or Africa. Go on patrol, you’d be safe enough.’

  ‘I’d love to, but the studio would go mad. I start back in a few weeks.’

  ‘What film?’ I asked.

  ‘Two and-a-half hour epic on Panama. Most shot in La Ninga - they delayed the construction work, studio paid them off. And they grabbed that hilltop for a week, Camp Nada. It will be a TV series, eight or ten segments, as well as available on CD.’

  My phone trilled, Tomsk. I said in Russian, ‘I have company, so careful what you say.’

  ‘Oh, OK. Well Carlos had men dig up the thing, and the thing is worth thirty million.’

  ‘That … is a surprise.’

  ‘His expert said something, that the shiny items were from The Congo.’

  ‘Ah, that helps some, yes.’

  ‘And I grabbed a bank … thing.’

  ‘Good. Tiny is coming back down to you tomorrow, I’ll visit in a few days, I have some ideas.’

  ‘My black friend in Africa got some money…’

  ‘As I was expecting, plans to be made soon.’

  ‘Should I be worried?’

  ‘No. You remember what I did when I first met you?’

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘Well, they want more of that.’

  ‘Build me up more?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh. Hit the other cartels?’

  ‘Most definitely.’

  ‘Well, it all helps I suppose.’

  ‘How’s the short version of you?’

  ‘He’s great, yes, learning Russian.’

  ‘Talk soon, I’ll be back in the UK tomorrow. Send my uncle Bob half of that money when you have it.’

  ‘OK, I talk to him often.’

  Phone down, I turned to my actor. ‘Do you speak Russian?’

  ‘A few phrases, for the films. Was that some dodgy spy?’

  ‘Definitely dodgy, but not a spy.’ I faced Tiny. ‘You booked a flight?’

  ‘Tomorrow, direct, Business Class. Day flight, so I’ll read.’

  I nodded. ‘My last flight over the pond, and the guy next to me is reading The Ghost. I signed it for him.’

  Back up in the room I called Bob. ‘Did I wake you?’

  ‘Just got up because a dog found his way in. My ground’s guard is chasing it.’

  ‘Your place secure?’

  ‘Like Fort Knox, sensors everywhere, bullet-proof glass, escape tunnel.’

  ‘Bob, are you in some dodgy profession?’

  ‘Depends on the day of the week. Yesterday I was a stock market trader.’

  ‘Listen, head of American arms producer TLC, I think he’s Anon Deep State - as Tinker put it, so do some research. This guy wants me selling his tanks in Panama and West Africa. I said yes, a commission paid via a charity.’

  ‘Involved with the Stingers?’

  ‘Yet to be seen, but I’m not snuggling up because I like him.’

  ‘I’ll get on it in the morning.’

  ‘Can you meet me in Panama in a week? A trip out of the office for you.’

  ‘Sure, I could do with a change of scene.’

  ‘Do you think Car 55 could train other snipers?’

  ‘I would think so, yes.’

  ‘Ask him if he wants a month in the sunshine.’

  ‘I’d say yes, chilly as hell here at the moment.’

  With Tiny on her way south I was waving goodbye to my escort at the steps of a C5, but it was – thankfully - almost empty inside, just the crew and a few rotating officers. After take-off I posed in my facemask with the crew, I even sat in the co-pilot’s chair and had a flying lesson.

  I detailed my first Cessna lesson, the crew in hysterics, Trish Deloitte detailed without giving away her name.

  I slept some of the way, my back still twinging from time to time, and we landed in cold rain at Fairford, now 7am. ‘Fucking marvellous,’ I let out to the crew. ‘I told you to take me to Barbados.’

  They shook hands with smiles as my MP escort got ready, Graveson driving me back with a local police escort, a catch-up on the way. I had my original greens on, an old American military jacket borrowed. At the gate house I ducked my head inside, a chat and a cup of tea after they questioned my strange appearance – and was I a body double?

  At the house I found Swifty awake, sat with his nurse, tea in hand. ‘When the boss is away…’

  ‘Be away more often,’ he told me.

  ‘When did you get back?’ I asked her as she made me a fresh cuppa.

  ‘Two days back,’ she answered. ‘But four of ours will rotate down there, the new team with 14 Intel.’

  ‘Any wounded down there?’

  ‘Sambo got a knife wound,’ she reported.

  ‘How?’ I puzzled.

  ‘A woman, who mistook him for her ex-husband.’

  I exchanged smirks with Swifty. ‘I’ll never let him live it down.’

  ‘Teams are back from Kosovo, all of them,’ Swifty told me.

  ‘All of them?’ I puzzled.

  ‘Something about a re-organisation, Moran said.’

  I nodded. ‘NATO wants to get involved at some point.’

  ‘Billy sorted Parker’s body, he was buried yesterday, Northampton I think, family there. Billy went to the funeral with the Regimental Padre, said the family were OK with him. Parker’s mum smelt of booze apparently, his French step-father there and crying - till he found out that Parker has been in Echo with you, then he was stunned.’

  ‘Post mortem?’

  ‘Done back here, and Billy said that London signed it off, no issues. First round went straight through his heart and cut his spine.’

  ‘Quick enough,’ I sighed out. ‘Any complaints from tourists at us?’

  ‘Apparently … no, they love us. Max is going to get them all together next month. Those people that were due to fly on that rescue flight, they all figured they would have been killed without your warning, kids and all, so they’re all fans now. But some have trauma, having counselling. When you miss death like that … well, civvies are affected by it.’

  ‘Soldiers too,’ I reminded them.

  ‘One family, there was twelve of them, six kids, youngest just two years old.’

  I took a moment, thinking of my new daughter. ‘That would hit you hard, to think that your kids would have been killed as well.’

  ‘Yanks are here tomorrow. Off
icers they said.’

  I nodded and sipped my tea. ‘Lone Wolf officers. We’ll see what they’re made of.’

  Susan asked, ‘You’re back still an issue?’

  ‘Just the twinges. I’ll go see a specialist. Again.’

  I walked across to the hangar at 9am, no detachment meeting pencilled in, and I sat with Billy for a few hours, paperwork to sort, Moran pitching in with kit damage and replacements.

  Hamster came and found me before lunch, and not with his happy face on. ‘Can I have a word, Boss?’

  I led him to a quiet room. And waited.

  ‘I’d like to try out for Echo.’

  ‘You run and shoot, but you’ve not done the years of soldiering,’ I pointed out.

  ‘I can still do better than some of these idiots. And I’m smarter than Tomo and Rizzo put together.’

  ‘Everyone’s … smarter than Tomo and Rizzo.’

  ‘Well, you either give me a go or I try the RAF Regiment, had enough of the armoury.’

  ‘OK, go see Sergeant Crab, explain it, get some training in for a week, then we’ll test you. And find me another armourer from Brize, a good one, not some fat lazy cunt like Bongo.’

  ‘There is one, Steve Messer, they call him Chef.’

  ‘Why do they call him Chef?’ I puzzled.

  Hamster looked at me like I was stupid. ‘He was a chef.’

  ‘A chef?’

  ‘Then he was REME, then RAF - an armourer, good man, getting on a bit but he’ll take no shit from Tomo.’

  ‘Ask him to pop over some time, and to shoot Tomo.’

  He laughed as he walked off.

  I went and explained it to Billy, who would start to look for a new armourer and check out “Chef”, assuming that Hamster made the grade, the man who used to sleep 23hrs a day at Brize Norton.

  David Finch called after lunch. ‘Are you well?’

  ‘Same as ever, just catching up on some paperwork, Yanks are here tomorrow, Lone Wolf officers.’

  ‘Well we have a problem, thanks to your man Rizzo.’

  ‘What’s he done now?’

  ‘He got himself filmed.’

  ‘Filmed? Where?’

  ‘At that compound in Mexico. There was a hidden CCTV camera, perhaps to keep an eye on the workers and the loot, a wire running to a nearby building some 600yards away. Someone has released a funny twenty-minute segment of Rizzo’s blocked anus and his odd toilet habits, his face in full view.’