Wilco- Lone Wolf 22

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘If you get a lieutenant, we check the name and then pay more. For a boss, a lord, we pay well. What are your rates?’

  ‘For a foot soldier, armed, one thousand dollars. Lieutenant, ten thousand, and if we got a boss … a hundred thousand.’

  ‘Good, make a start when you get back. We’ll give you some money on account.’

  ‘How much will you spend, in total?’ he risked.

  ‘Two hundred million dollars.’

  He blinked, but I held my cold stare on him.

  ‘You have deep pockets, Senor.’

  ‘We do. Make a start, but first … tell us where the Sinola are, what you know, earn your advance money. We know where the bosses live already.’ I left him with Joe and the maps.

  An hour later, and he wanted to see me. ‘I think I can get a bomb near the bosses of Sinola.’

  ‘Then you will be well paid. Just tell us when it is supposed to go off, and where, and you get paid.’

  ‘They … own bars and restaurants…’

  I led him to a quiet spot. ‘Fifty thousand at least for each car bomb, but that bomb must kill Sinola men, a few at least. No one must ever know, this is between you and me. If you destroy a property with no one in it, twenty thousand, some proof of ownership. And we can check.

  ‘If your bomb gets a boss, and ten lieutenants, you get the value of them. Simple. But if you miss the cartel and kill women and children, don’t come back here, run and hide from me.’

  He considered that. ‘And other cartels?’

  ‘Carlos the Jackal is a friend, and Los Zetas. Anyone else … yes, we pay.’

  ‘There is a small cartel trying to move into Cancun…’

  ‘I want them killed quietly, no tourists affected.’

  He nodded. ‘Tourists don’t read the local newspaper. And police commanders, government ministers?’

  ‘Yes, we’ll negotiate a rate, but it must look like a cartel killing, and some evidence must be found. They must look dirty.’

  He nodded. ‘I know a police commander with Sinola, and his cousin is a politician.’

  ‘If they were both killed at the same time … that would look best.’

  Again he nodded. He pointed at my chest. ‘Is it true?’

  I eased my shirt off, and even my dead guest reacted.

  ‘You hold hands with Death, Senor.’

  ‘Every day. We are old friends now, me and Death.’

  ‘For a man like me, it is honour to meet you.’

  We shook.

  ‘Make a start, and make some money,’ I encouraged, and he was soon on his way, money wired to a Cayman Islands bank account, some cash in his hand as well. I could not have said that he was happy, not with a face like that, and I was sure he had been in an old Peter Cushing film that scared me as a kid.

  In the morning, the Deputy Chief was on. ‘Our DA friend is now prison meat, his files now unsealed. Your friends in low places?’

  ‘They’re your friends too, or they should be,’ I pointed out.

  ‘His phone was just linked to some odd numbers, and according to the Feds he’s sat crying his eyes out. They found bank statements at his house, and he never earned the money from his damn DA salary, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Wife and kids?’

  ‘Wife has clammed up - which is an odd thing to do if you’re innocent. Kids are in college.’

  ‘His look out. But see who tries to interfere with the investigation, and then let me know. Oh, my people tell me that the estimated tonnage of Bolivian product farmed and shipped doesn’t match that sold. Some is missing.’

  ‘A pharmaceutical we missed?’

  ‘Could be.’

  ‘There are many of them, in many countries, most beyond our reach.’

  ‘Any in Saudi?’

  ‘Yes, a big one, it supplies the region. Part owned by a company here.’

  ‘Take a quick look at that company, and its board of directors.’

  He was back on half an hour later. ‘That company is Atlanta Pharma, and your good buddy Delaney is on the board.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean they’re dirty, or that he knows, and he wants the Air Force men involved to be publically executed for tarnishing the Air Force.’

  ‘Another director is on the board at TLC.’

  ‘Them again. OK, keep digging from your end, we’ll look from our end.’

  I took a walk, time to think, and I took a gamble. I called Miller and insisted that Delaney call me back.

  Delaney called half an hour later. ‘Wilco, they said it was urgent.’

  ‘You’re on the board on a pharmaceutical company.’

  ‘Yes...’

  ‘And they part own a Saudi pharma.’

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘We have a suspicion that your Saudi branch is using Bolivian cocaine, and that Air Force personnel got some and shipped it back. It turned up on the streets of Kansas, and an Air Force sergeant then met with an accident, the details sealed by the Wichita DA, who’s on the make. If you know something, then say so now, or this investigation could land on your head.’

  ‘I’m not a party to it, whatever it is, and if I find out who is then they go away. So keep investigating, and don’t hold back because of me.’

  ‘Your people are on it, so too the CIA. But if we get something we’ll deal with it quietly.’

  ‘I want the Air Force personnel dealt with quietly, and buried alive; they’ll set back the Air Force reputation. When you know who’s at the top of the food chain … I want him.’

  ‘I’ll bet twenty bucks on an arms supplier, and known to you.’

  ‘That’s … annoying. I have some thinking to do. Carry on, Major.’

  Call ended, I repeated, ‘Carry on, Major? I don’t fucking work for you, dickhead.’

  Murphy called as I sat on the patio alone, and thinking. ‘It’s me, Boss, and we got us another big fish, old guy in nice clothes.’

  ‘Any wounded?’

  ‘Got a snake bite, choppers inbound.’

  ‘Anyone shot?’ I pressed.

  ‘We hit them hard and fast, left the old guy alive, and he’s no fighter.’

  ‘Drop him over the border, unless he wants to make a deal. Tell the CIA men.’

  ‘Will do, Boss, looking forwards to some hot chow. Oh, and I called London with the fellas sat phone, like you taught me.’

  ‘Good work.’

  Big Sasha brought me some food, and an ice-tea as I enjoyed the weather and the view, a slight smell of chlorine from the inviting blue pool.

  Tinker called next. ‘We got a phone number from your man Murphy, and it tracks back to the Sinola leadership, so we have a house fixed now - in that valley, and the guy’s favourite restaurant. We had our guy call it and make a reservation, then be rude. Prices were steep and he was threatened. It’s a cartel restaurant.’

  ‘Good work.’

  ‘I’m not done yet,’ he complained.

  ‘Sorry. Go ahead, Grumpy.’

  ‘Our guy has been busy in Mexicali, calling up known Tijuana men and proving who he is, then offering them a way out, pretending he’s working for Tomsk on the side. Three threatened to find him and kill him, two want to come over, like today.’

  ‘Tell them they drive to Carlos and hand themselves in, Panama passport arranged, plus cash.’

  I called Thomas in Mexicali. ‘It’s Petrov. Any word on our colonel?’

  ‘He disappeared quickly, they said, a helicopter south. Now, nobody knows anything, not even for a million dollars, and in this town that is very strange. It is as if he trusted no one local.’

  ‘I bet that was the case, yes.’

  ‘A Sinola lab was hit, so they say…’

  ‘Yes, a hundred kilos taken, the men all killed, the bosses and their bosses caught and dropped across the border.’

  ‘They lose face now, because they sent men here to talk now that the Tijuana is less.’

  ‘Are those men still there?’

  ‘Yes.’
<
br />   ‘Grab them for me, take them to Carlos.’

  ‘Well, I have to be careful - we have a code of conduct here, and they ask for negotiations, and then we can’t hit them.’

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. ‘Find someone who can do it without being caught, blame someone else, and get them to Carlos. You will be well paid.’

  ‘OK, I arrange something.’

  Call cut, Tomsk walked up. ‘In Mexicali, the idiot gunmen and dealers have a code of conduct?’ I complained.

  ‘Yes, all over Mexico, but they break it all the time.’

  ‘The Sinola drugs lab that my men hit, they already know about in Mexicali.’

  ‘That it was you?’

  ‘No, just that it was hit.’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s Mexico, news travels very fast.’

  Considering that, I called GCHQ. ‘It’s Wilco. Have your people drop a hint to … anyone and everyone, that Petrov hit a Sinola drugs lab yesterday, twenty miles south of Carlos. The news does, apparently, travel fast there.’

  ‘It does, yes, these cartel men are like old ladies over the garden fence.’

  ‘Use that fact, and trace the calls and the keywords in text messages.’

  Thomas called me back at 7pm, as we sat eating on the patio, Rizzo now in greens and training with Allison and Gay Dave, an unlikely trio. ‘The Sinola men were grabbed, they are now close to Carlos, to be handed over. Also, word on the street is that you hit the Sinola drug lab, but … word also that Americans were seen and heard there.’

  ‘I was not there. And I doubt the quality of the gossip.’

  ‘Of course, yes. When will your people move into Mexicali?’

  ‘First we are hitting Sinola, but my people will be there in a week.’

  ‘Wait.’ I heard the Spanish conversation. He came back on with, ‘A series of six car bombs in Sinola towns, talk of lords and lieutenants hit.’

  ‘Some internal feud maybe, I’d never harm a fly.’

  ‘Of course. Talk soon.’

  I called the number for my dead-faced hitman organiser. ‘It’s Petrov. Have you been busy?’

  ‘You heard?’

  ‘Yes. And to work that fast you must have already had the plan, and the bombs and men in place for some time.’ I waited.

  ‘It was planned and then stopped, a month ago. The bombs were buried close by, just in case, the men ready.’

  ‘Be careful about lying to me, because I don’t think Los Zetas had the stomach for the car bombs.’

  ‘No, they were not paying.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me who did?’

  ‘No. I have a professional pride, and rules, or no one would use me.’

  ‘That I can respect, yes. Count up the bodies, and what we owe you, list them to Jose here.’

  Off the phone, I faced Tomsk. ‘Someone paid the hit squad to set-off car bombs in the Sinola heartland, then cancelled the contract. Today the bombs went off though, the leadership hit.’

  ‘Who paid them before?’ Tomsk puzzled.

  ‘They won’t tell me, not at any price.’

  ‘That’s good, it means they don’t talk about us,’ Tomsk pointed out.

  ‘We need to figure out who wanted the Sinola hit, and why. It was not Los Zetas.’

  When my phone trilled it was the Deputy Chief. ‘Wilco, any clues as to what happened with Sinola today?’

  ‘Some internal feud, or a rival gang maybe,’ I lied. ‘It smacks of a cartel hit.’

  ‘Six well-placed bombs, so it would have taken someone close by, and a lot of time to plan it.’

  ‘Any word on who was hit?’

  ‘Mexican police are listing six lords out of ten, but that the main man was not involved, some sixteen lieutenants caught up in it, some killed and some wounded badly. It sets them back though, big time, and you hurt them in the north.’

  ‘The sharks can smell the blood in the water,’ I suggested. ‘Any luck with those sealed documents?’

  ‘FBI have them, case re-opened, so someone will be panicking. But whoever they are they’re not sloppy.’

  Running Bear called at 6pm. ‘I’m sat here with the Major and Mitch, just reviewing today’s raid – over a cold beer that is.’

  ‘How’d it go?’

  ‘We grabbed a shit load of grass, damn Huey was weighed down, and we grabbed a gringo. That dude, and he was a dude – dressed like one, is now across the border and having a torch shone up his arse, his dreadlocks cut off.’

  ‘Body count?

  ‘Twenty dead on their side, and another twenty dead when they realised they’d been hit, place burnt down.’

  ‘Any wounds our side?’

  ‘Guy landed hard out the chopper; he went back with a sprained ankle and a face full of dirt. And we got two ricochet. No drama, but we sent them back to be worked on.’

  ‘Sounds like a good raid.’

  ‘Well here’s the thing, they’re not Sinola, and Rada is scratching his head as to who they’re aligned to.’

  ‘There are a thousand gangs, so don’t worry, just record the detail and send it back via Khrushchev.’

  ‘Might get some answers from our hippy dude when he gets his own cell to rattle around in, a mirror to see his shaved head.’

  ‘More raids planned?’

  ‘Yes, Rada pointed out a lawless village, so we’ll surround it and work our way in. He says it’s like the OK Corral in there.’

  ‘Pack them six shooters, cowboy.’

  ‘Cowboy? I’m the spic watering the horses at the stables in that damn movie.’

  Called to the training camp the next day, I found thirty local Panamanian soldiers in green fatigues lined up in rows, the oldest around thirty in my estimation, the men now being organised by the same local Army captain I had met at the big meeting. We shook.

  He began, ‘Sir, these men have been selected after volunteers were called for. They are all good snipers, fit, and have jungle training. We also made sure that they have local family, at least one child, one parent alive.’

  I nodded. ‘Good work, Captain. Do any speak English?’

  ‘They were selected because they speak some English. They like their gringo TV of an evening, Baywatch.’

  I smiled widely. ‘Best way to learn English, yes.’ I stepped closer. ‘Welcome to the training camp of Mister Tomsk, I am Petrov. You men have volunteered to become snipers, and to work against the cartels that bother your country.

  ‘That fight is not to help me, not to help Mister Tomsk, it is to help Panama, and to help all those women and children that want their husbands and fathers to be safe.

  ‘You will train here, you will be tested, and then you will be sent out, in teams and sometimes alone, on the Nicaragua border or on the Colombian border, to kill any armed men, or FARC.

  ‘Hold your heads up high, and do God’s work, and rid the planet of these men. Some of you may also go to Mexico and other countries, to clean the earth of the gunmen and the cartels. If that is something you might enjoy, then welcome. If not, you need to think carefully and then go back to where you came from – you will not be harmed.’

  Rizzo walked up with Allison. I pointed at Rizzo. ‘This is Mad Dog Rizzo.’ Not a single man could help smiling. ‘He will be teaching you, and you are in good hands.’ I faced Rizzo. ‘Over to you.’

  Rizzo waved the men after him. ‘Follow me, you useless fucks.’

  I chatted to many of the Russians here, most known to me, a cold drink with No.3 in his office – he ran this camp and ordered the toilet roll, then I observed as the new men tackled the Valmet, weapons laid out on tables with white tablecloths.

  The men would strip, assemble, load and fire, a run around the camp, over and over, all of them sweating already.

  I stayed for a leisurely lunch, and after lunch the new men were tested at 400yards, most achieving a good score from the start considering that they had all trained on the M16 not the Valmet. Switching to M16s with optical sights, the men were soon
found to be excellent snipers.

  At 4pm Rizzo approached me with Allison, wiping his brow. ‘They’re all shit hot with an M16, they can shoot straight, and good enough with a Valmet. Some practise and they’ll be good snipers.’

  ‘They don’t need to be super-fit, just not afraid of a forty mile walk through the bush. Test and train them on hand to hand, knife fighting, pistol work, then we’ll test them with some live bodies to hit, not paper targets.

  ‘Get them webbing like us, then spend a night out with them, and teach them how to make a good OP, a good hide, rain shelter. I want them comfortable sleeping in the bush with some traps and warnings laid around them.’

  ‘My area,’ Allison put in. ‘I spent a year in the Nicaraguan bush.’

  ‘We were up there,’ I told him. ‘East coast, white sandy beaches in the jungle.’

  ‘And fuck all fresh water,’ he noted.

  ‘Take them on long patrols in FARC territory and up on the Nicaraguan border, teams of four, start a body count. I want our two borders free of gunmen, totally free. I want it so quiet you’d get bored and fall asleep.’

  ‘We use these Russian lads?’ Allison asked. ‘They seem switched on, all built like Rambo.’

  ‘Yes, use some of them. Probably get some Lone Wolves down here as well.’

  Rizzo asked, ‘We go up to that Carlos dude?’

  ‘Place is bursting with men at the moment, so clean up these border areas first. But don’t shoot up the local growers, Tomsk buys from them.’

  The next day the news was odd, odd in that our hitman was listing fifty men killed. We checked with crooked police officers and crooked Interpol agents in Mexico City that Carlos knew, and the names and places tallied.

  Our hitman boss was going all out, keen to make some money and retire maybe. I wondered if his retirement condo would be grabbed by the Mexican Government.

  Unfortunately, the action hit CNN, labelled as “Cartel Wars”, but that just brought discrete praise from the White House via the Deputy Chief.

  I asked him, ‘Do they think they know what I’m up to here?’

  ‘They don’t, but they suspect it was your teams and my teams.’

  ‘Let’s hope the DOJ doesn’t have the same suspicion, eh.’

  ‘If they did they’d be light on evidence. Is there … any evidence floating around?’ he asked me.