by Geoff Wolak
‘Yanks won’t be happy when the news hits,’ Rizzo noted.
‘No,’ I sighed out. ‘So we try and keep it out of the news.’
‘This is sooo … centre stage,’ Gay Dave noted, Rizzo again appearing uncomfortable.
When my phone trilled it was an odd American number. ‘Hello?’
‘You in need of some TLC?’ came a familiar voice.
‘Always; the people of the world don’t treat me well.’
He laughed. ‘We got the Panama deal, so I owe you some money.’
‘Whatever you think is reasonable.’
‘Where’d I send it?’
‘You donate it to the President of Liberia, for the building of … schools and churches.’
‘Hell, a tax benefit for me to boot. I’ll send something when they close the deal, should be in a few days. And Liberia, they in need of some APC?’
‘I would think so, yes. I’ll check with them. Leave it with me.’
In the morning, Bob Staines called at 11am. ‘Our friend in Cyprus was found stabbed to death, witnesses listing that three naked boys killed him for some reason, the boys now missing, the brothel burnt down.’
‘Two off the list.’
‘Three, since the man’s assistant was on the list and took a blow to the head, now brain dead just about. And with what he was injected with … he’ll stay that way.’
‘Did you learn that from me?’ I teased.
‘I seem to recall I gave you the idea, an old Cold War technique.’
‘You may have done, yes. Has the news hit?’
‘In Cyprus yes, but I made sure it hit Reuters as well.’
Miller called next, as I had lunch, Tiny out visiting the city prison. ‘Our two FBI men were surprised that we knew the story, now keen to cooperate. They were being pushed along by a man we can’t touch, an arms producer.’
‘Which … arms producer?’
‘Not your friend at TLC, he seems to be clean. This guy runs Amtel, listed in the top 100 companies, and ten times bigger than TLC.’
‘Was he at the NRA meeting?’
‘No, but one of his directors was, friends of Senator Delaney.’
‘Pass the following theory to Delaney. FBI mob were in bed with Tijuana as we know, but also Medellin and the Bolivians, drugs sent to Saudi to sell on around the region, drugs re-packed and put on US military flights back to the States, money made for al-Qa’eda supporting men.’
‘You’ve got to be shitting me…’
‘Like I said, just a theory. And … have a nice day.’
‘Have a nice day?’ he loudly complained.
I cut the call, smiling. ‘I love screwing with that guy,’ I muttered.
Tiny returned with a man in handcuffs, a gringo with a Rizzo moustache that was now turning grey, and a face that had taken plenty of knocks, his grey hair unkempt, his prison orange clothes in need of a tailor. And a wash and iron.
Rizzo had been summoned, and he now stared at the haggard and scarred face in front of him. ‘Fuck me. Toby Allison.’
‘Rizzo?’ the man puzzled. ‘The little snot nose upstart?’
I laughed.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ the man asked me, stood flanked by two police officers.
‘Some call me Petrov, but I have other names, and I graduated from Bosnia with a few scars.’
His eyes widened. ‘Him?’
‘Him.’
I had the police taken to a side room, cold drinks provided, Allison taken to the patio with Rizzo and Tiny, his cuffs removed. I handed Allison a cold beer, his first one in six years. He sipped it and savoured it.
‘So what did they get you on?’ I finally asked.
Tiny cut in, ‘He was working as a merc up on the Nicaraguan border.’
‘Best paid man in the cell block,’ Rizzo scoffed.
Allison studied him, then turned to me. ‘So you’re Wilco. I get the newspapers inside, a few weeks out of date, but I read them cover to cover three times over, nothing else to do.’
I nodded, and studied him. ‘You want out?’
‘Of course I want out,’ he angrily replied. ‘Who the fuck would want to stay?’
‘Think you could still hit the target?’
‘With an hour’s practise, yes.’
Tiny cut in, ‘He knows the Nicaraguan gangs, some of them, and some might still be operating.’
‘I’ve been inside a long time,’ he warned us. ‘My contacts might all be dead now.’
‘Here’s the deal,’ I told him. ‘You get cleaned up, you get some beer, some hookers, some relaxation, and then you work for us. You train some men, you go shoot some cartel men, you never go to prison – even if caught, we’d get you out. And you get a salary.’
‘What’s the downside?’
‘Getting shot and wounded in the bush and bleeding out,’ I told him.
‘I’ll take that over prison,’ he snarled.
‘Me too,’ Rizzo put in.
I pointed at Allison and addressed Rizzo. ‘Was he any good?’
‘Back in the day he was good, very good.’
‘And your specialities?’ I asked him.
‘Explosives, sniping. And I did a year with the Nicaraguan Army special forces, so I know this area and Nicaragua, speak Spanish well enough.’
‘You get a chance, Mister Allison.’ I froze. ‘Is that a movie?’
Tiny cut in, ‘Heaven Knows, Mister Allison, 1957, Robert Mitchum.’
We all stared at her.
‘I like old movies,’ she said with a smile.
‘You Mi6?’ Allison asked her.
‘Kind of, but I work for Wilco’s Intel team.’
‘If you were trying to get info from me, Love, you’d get the full story with no arguments.’
‘Orrrr … that’s sweet,’ Tiny told him.
‘She would anyhow,’ I told him. ‘She loves nothing better than to burn a man’s balls.’
‘Ouch.’
‘So, Mister Allison, you have a chance. And if you let me down it won’t be prison, it’ll be a slow painful death. No British law here, no rules apart from my rules.’
He faced Rizzo. ‘You’re out now, facing charges?’
‘If they can find me,’ he scoffed. ‘Wilco got me a fake ID and out the country.’
‘Well, Mister Allison,’ I pressed. ‘Are you ready to start a new career?’
He sipped his beer. ‘It’s my kind of work, and it beats the hell out of prison.’
‘When you’re ready, you’d go back into Nicaragua and shoot all your old contacts.’
‘With pleasure. But … some were OK, helped me out, got me some food in prison.’
‘Those men, you recruit to come work for me.’
He sipped his beer. ‘And the pay?’ he risked.
‘We’ll start you on fifty grand a year tax free, plus bonuses. And you get holidays.’
He smiled and nodded.
‘First, get yourself cleaned up, start exercising, eating properly, and adjust to life outside.’
With Rizzo leading Allison to the bunkhouse, talking about old times and people they knew, I called David Finch. ‘Run a name, old SAS man called Allison, got banged up in Panama six years back I think.’
‘Hold on … here it is, closed file. Known associates with Nicaraguan gangs, arrested and wounded, sentenced to twenty years.’
‘He’s out and working for me. Was he ever on your books?’
‘It says … we approached him with no luck. He wanted to make some fast money it seems, but got a cell and some cockroaches instead. We left him to rot, as a message to others.’
‘So run a background check for me, just in case.’
‘Will do, now that he’s out. What will he be doing?’
‘He speaks Spanish and knows Nicaragua, so he’s our man up there.’
Back with Tiny on the patio, I said, ‘Well done, now check the prisons in Nicaragua and … anywhere else around here.’
‘Tomsk
gave me some money, for getting the banker…’ she risked, and waited.
‘What I don’t know about won’t cause me sleepless nights. I just hope you’ll stay, and not run off and retire.’
‘I’m not retiring yet, not for a long time.’
‘Good to know, Girl Friday.’
‘Robinson Crusoe. Book was better than the films they made. And it was Man Friday.’
In with Joe, his allotted office was now looking busy, three new men here, white boards up, maps up, a large map table in the centre of the room.
Tinker called so I stepped out. ‘Reggie got an email from Deep State, CDC statistics, we just got a copy. What we using it for?’
‘I want to know where Bolivian product is going, most importantly where it’s landing and where it’s centred. I want tonnage worked out by an expert and compared to production tonnage estimated, and then I want to know what the shortfall is.’
‘Where’s the shortfall going?’ he asked.
‘Maybe to pharmaceutical companies.’
‘Ah. Well London has a man or two that are expert with this, so we’ll get them on the case. They advise Interpol.’
‘As soon as you can, I want an opinion on missing Bolivian product.’
‘You mean cocaine?’
‘Yes. Those of us in the industry call it product.’
He laughed. ‘I’ll update everyone, then we’ll all be in the industry.’
‘Work fast please, something is up. And then, next project: try and tie together Tijuana lords with the Bolivian cartel with rich Saudis and FBI men and American weapons manufacturers.’
‘Jesus, how are that lot linked?’
‘Missiles and cocaine, my friend, missiles and cocaine. But make it Top Secret, a side room; you might get interference from London.’
‘I’ll mention that to the Director.’
Back in with Joe, I had a look at the map, cartel areas drawn over in coloured chalk. ‘Chalk?’
‘So we can move areas and wipe out the lines.’
‘Good thinking,’ I commended. I pointed, ‘Call Carlos and get a clear picture of his area.’
‘His area grows quickly,’ Joe noted.
An old man was led in, and he seemed nervous. ‘You are Petrov?’
I shook his hand. ‘I am. And who are you?’
‘I wrote a book about the cartels. I am from Mexico, and was once a regional governor.’
‘Then you are most welcome, we have some money for you.’
He studied the map. ‘What is it that you want of me?’
‘We want to destroy certain cartels, or kill as many of their men as we can.’
‘You have done well against them,’ he noted. ‘I read what I can and keep the newspaper cuttings.’
‘You will assist the men here to create a large book of information about the cartels. What area were you governor of?’
‘My area was within Sinola territory.’ He pointed it out.
‘Help us find the leadership, and we’ll kill them.’
He shrugged, and appeared sadden. ‘They killed my family.’
‘So you have a chance here, to help us, and to stop other families from being killed.’
He pointed. ‘Here, above this town is a green valley. They live there, well protected.’
I made a note of the coordinates and stepped out, calling Langley.
‘Duty Officer.’
‘It’s Wilco. Ask if I can borrow a satellite and have it scan Mexico.’
‘There is one, three in fact, they could all be used.’
‘Make a note of these coordinates.’ I listed the numbers twice. ‘And standby an airstrike.’ I considered my words. ‘My official report to you is that the Sinola Cartel leadership had a hand in the recent attacks on the border.’
‘I’ll pass it up the line now.’
‘Have the NSA focus on that area as well please.’
Next call was Tinker. I gave him the coordinates. ‘Look for any phone use in that valley, it’s the Sinola Cartel leadership. Americans will get a satellite photo for us.’
At 5pm Allison was shaved and showered, hair trimmed, in clothes borrowed from Rizzo. ‘You look ten years younger,’ I told him.
‘Feel like it - just had a girl, first time in a while. They have hookers in prison, if you have the cash saved up.’
‘Had a good meal?’
‘Had a steak with vegetables, and a cold beer,’ he enthused.
‘Need a doctor?’
‘Nothing serious, some back pain. Prison beds ain’t the best.’
‘Kick back for a while, but spend an hour with Joe, and detail all you remember about the Nicaraguan men you worked with. If any might come to our side, list them, we’ll get them out, passports and money.’
‘If they’re still there. It’s been almost six years.’
‘How did you survive in prison?’
‘One, I can fight, so I got a reputation, and I sided with an old gang leader, and he helped.’
‘Does he have information on any gangs here?’
He pulled a face. ‘Most of his gang on the outside was removed, probably by you and Tomsk. He’s a bit of a nobody on the outside, respected inside. But he had a pipeline for a decade.’
‘Where?’
‘Through here, up the west coast route and to the Tijuana boys.’
I walked Allison into Joe, introductions given, and told Joe to get the old gang leader out of prison, to fake his death. Allison sat and started to detail what he knew, a map annotated. We were making progress.
My phone trilled. ‘It’s Murphy, Boss, we’s just landed Stateside, be in Tucson later, some CIA men with us now. What we doing?’
‘You’ll go to the same place south of the border, I’ll meet you there soon. American Wolves will meet you there.’
‘Well these here CIA fellas said that there was like sixty Wolves sat waiting.’
‘Sixty? Well, men from the first and second batch I guess. If you get there without me, start to train the local young soldiers, sniping and hiding … or anything you want, but set a perimeter and stag rotation. Stay sharp.’
In the morning, Khrushchev called. ‘We want to fly into that hilltop place that Carlos runs, followed by the Wolves, and we have Captain Running Bear with us.’
‘I’ll call him now, hang on.’ I punched the numbers for Carlos.
‘Si?’
‘CEO Carlos?’
I heard the sigh. ‘Petrov.’
‘Some men will land soon, CIA as well. Kindly make them welcome, supply food and chefs, water. There will also be some Huey helicopters and pilots, find some fuel please and a mechanic who can be trusted.’
‘I will get the airport people involved. You want the same helicopters and pilots?’
‘Yes, for many weeks. We will hit Sinola as well as Mexicali, and we have inside men with us now, and defectors from Tijuana.’
‘They can see what is happening, yes, and run away quick like cockroaches.’
‘Expect some helicopters soon, warn your people. Smiles shown, not guns pointed.’
I called Khrushchev. ‘OK, they’ll be expecting you. Tell the men to be well-behaved, or else. And Carlos doesn’t know my true identity, but he suspects, and he knows I work with the CIA anyhow. They’ll supply food and water, and Carlos can be trusted.’
‘Plate of beans coming up, eh.’
‘It’s a bit better organised than that.’
After lunch Carlos called. ‘I now have the entire American Army here, so I send for more huts, and some tents in a hurry,’ he complained.
‘And they will hand you some money for your assistance, so play nicely please.’
‘There are CIA men here, but … they are polite and courteous and ask my permission and my advice. But what will these men do?’
‘They will start to attack anyone you tell us about, especially Sinola to the south. So sit down and think about where the Sinola men are located, and any gangs that bother you. Star
t close and work outwards, towards Mexicali as well.’
‘My son has them on a map for you.’
‘That will be a place to start, yes. And these soldiers will be training your young soldiers. Send your young soldiers for the training.’
‘I will. And today the loud American attack helicopters flew over my town, a worry to see them.’
‘You will never be a target, so don’t worry. Those helicopters are for others.’
‘Your friend, Mister Bob, he took six million dollars and turned it into twenty million dollars for us.’
‘He trades the stock markets, and gets inside information.’
‘He refused to take a cut...’
‘My aim is to see you grow, so use the money … and grow your territory, remove the gangs.’
‘Things are better now, but yesterday … we hung a man in the town square, after he raped two women.’
‘Good, I agree with your policy. Keep hanging them. Did you think about a clinic?’
‘It is built already, an old building we painted,’ he enthused. ‘Twenty rooms, six doctors and twenty nurses. Now a dentist as well, all free to the people of the town.’
‘Careful, or people will raise a statue to you after your death.’
‘Well … maybe,’ he modestly conceded.
‘Talk soon, Master Of All He Surveys, and I visit soon.’
An hour later my phone trilled, the Deputy Chief. ‘I just briefed the White House, and they’re pleased we’re making progress, and they now know about Carlos and the men inserted. We spoke about the Sinola leadership but we can’t be seen to wipe out families.’
‘Might get the leaders at a meeting, if we’re lucky,’ I told him. ‘If not, you damage the roads, a message sent.’
‘That we can do, yes. But for a raid with helos it’s a long way south.’
‘No need, but if there is a chance to grab the leadership you can land a Hercules on a road, soldiers in the back. Have you spoken to the Mexican Government?’
‘They know we’re breaching their territory, but from an economic point of view they won’t risk upsetting us.’
‘Ask them to kindly move police and soldiers away from Carlos, without mentioning Carlos.’
‘I’ll make a note now.’
‘What about the condos?’
‘They want to grab them, and they’re threatening to take us to court over the assets we seized. But hell, whenever we grab drug money we keep it, always have done.’