Wilco- Lone Wolf 15

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘I never said the bank plots your overthrow, or anything about a secret society – your words. And you never said what you had reason to investigate them for. So I’ll assume you’re clean and I’ll tell you what I know.

  ‘They’re heavily invested in mines and oil in Africa, and they don’t care if they have to start a coup to get at the oil and the mines, or if they have to bribe African presidents or kill African ministers. They do so through Bastion Security Services.’

  ‘We know of them, French and Belgian mercenaries working for them.’

  ‘They were behind the coup in Liberia, where British and French forces stopped their ambitions. I could prove that they funded weapons that targeted French soldiers. I could also prove that they tried to kill me, twenty or thirty times.

  ‘Most recently they were involved in the coup attempt in Guinea, and I got the credit for spoiling their plans. The Mi5 agents that put a bomb on a van and killed their own people, and the boy from Oman, were answering to London power brokers, thinking they were working for London, those power brokers in bed with the Dutch and Belgians.

  ‘And, most recently, they killed Princess Diana.’

  He eased upright in his chair.

  ‘No, we won’t be making any claims about that, because like you our own government our ministers have money invested with the bank, and our most powerful men sit on its board of directors. That’s why your men took the order to kill me, and ignored you.’

  He stood, and poured himself another drink, staring out the window for many seconds. ‘You do not dare rock the boat, nor I.’ He turned to face me, and seem apologetic. ‘If you damage them you damage London and Paris.’ He shrugged.

  ‘If a man is shot dead, the police will investigate. If that man has a heart attack, then there is no investigation. The cancer can be cut out, by being as bad as they are, and doing it quietly.’

  ‘The man who slipped extradition..?’

  ‘CIA rendered him to Oman. And you can be 100% certain that if your men had killed me today you would have had a heart attack next week.’

  He stared back, worried, then looked away. ‘So your connection to the CIA is a strong one.’

  ‘I did not come here to ask you to fight the bank, I realise they are inside your organisation. I came about Diana.’

  He sat and faced me.

  I continued, ‘Her driver was talking to Mi6. Before he crashed the car he had a drink with an Mi6 man, Paul Dickson, who slipped the driver a drug, a drug that makes people paranoid – and to drive very fast.

  ‘Paul Dickson was killed later. What I want you to do is to bury the tox report - personally, and to make sure that Paul Dickson has links to some bad men, any bad men. As we speak, Mi6 are framing him, making him look corrupt. But, if it gets out, then the British Government will be in turmoil.

  ‘Also, the bank may have some evidence, to blackmail Mi6. Maybe a video of the drug being poured, of Paul Dickson meeting the driver. Mi6 would not risk such a video surfacing, and would be open to blackmail.’

  He solemnly nodded, deep I thought. ‘I can assist you with Diana, because if you are in trouble then I am in trouble also – we have used such a drug on someone recently, and now I suspect that some evidence is being held, by the bank.’

  He made firm eye contact. ‘Can you … take them down without anyone knowing that it was a take down, without losing the money invested, no publicity?’

  ‘Yes, I think so, and I need to move fast. They had thermite ready to bring down a London building insured by them.’

  His brow furrowed. ‘My god, to be so open. I would have never have believed that they would risk such a venture.’

  ‘It will cost billions to take down the building, they’re desperate, at least some of them. I don’t think the British men invested in the bank would have approved.’

  ‘No, of course not, it will harm London. Nor the Queen.’

  ‘Queen?’ I puzzled.

  ‘Your Queen, she has money invested with them.’

  ‘Ah … bollocks.’

  ‘Yes, a problem for us all if the detail is known. A fine line must be walked here.’

  ‘You’ve given this some thought already,’ I posed. And I waited.

  He eased back. ‘I have known for many years, we all have, but we dare not do anything. And if they shoot some Africans, who cares here in Paris, France gets more money.’

  ‘Are you prepared to help me, names and details, or could they find out and put you in a shallow grave?’

  ‘They have their spies yes, which is why we are talking in here. But there is a man I know, hiding in Panama of all places. He investigated them, and they tried to kill him twice.’

  ‘I have such a man in England helping me, he likes a good conspiracy.’

  ‘This is no conspiracy, they are everywhere.’ He gestured towards me. ‘They re-directed my men today.’

  ‘How do I find this man?’

  ‘French speaking man, some English, sixty, grey, maybe bald now, a scar down his cheek from a car bomb that nearly got him, walks with a limp, left foot was blown off. He needs drugs for diabetes. He once told me that to contact him, put an advert in the Panama newspapers in French, for veterans of the Napoleonic wars.’

  I smiled widely for a moment. ‘Are there many still alive?’

  ‘He has been out of touch for years, might be dead already.’

  ‘It’s a lead anyhow, but I am making progress against them, step by step. They got a shock when their man turned up in Oman.’

  ‘They got a shock? Half the men in my office fainted!’

  ‘They’re going to know that I survived this attempt, and that we had this chat.’

  He made a face and shrugged. ‘This chat is about Guinea, and … you are not so easy to kill.’

  ‘If it’s not too much trouble, how about you personally escort me back to the airport, because I can be killed – and easily.’

  He seemed saddened for a moment, and concerned, his chest heaving a sigh. We stood. ‘Explaining the deaths of those men will be very hard, there will be an enquiry, then … it’s your word against theirs.’

  ‘Do you want to see me on a witness stand?’

  ‘Not even the bank wants to see you on a witness stand!’

  ‘Then you need to plant some money in the homes of some of these men, and reluctantly agree that something very odd happened, unusual contact outside the country. Or just blame the Islamists as usual.’

  ‘People saw you?’

  I shrugged and held my hands wide. ‘I was one of your officers, who … survived the attack by … Moroccans.’

  ‘Let me clean up this damn mess first. First business, get you out of my city, make you someone else’s problem.’

  ‘I have a warm glowy feeling all over.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ he said with a smile as he led me back to the main office.

  After numerous cups of tea and a chat to David Finch he led me down whilst looking harassed and stressed, a select few men now accompanying us, and we boarded vans and cars with tinted windows, quite a convoy, and we set off.

  ‘We cannot use the Islamists here,’ he admitted with a sigh. ‘Many witnesses saw you, but we already find odd contacts, undeclared contacts, so … we have to paint these men as dirty, and the politicians will want my head on plate this week.

  ‘One of the police you shot is alive, and he may talk. And that bakery; two dead and four wounded badly when the police car crashed.’

  ‘Bugger.’

  At the airport the Group Captain was waiting, surprised by the forty armed men now escorting me, flashing blue lights everywhere. I waved goodbye to the Director as he stood staring after me, and he looked like a condemned man.

  To the Group Captain I said, ‘Anyone touched this plane, sir?’

  ‘Touched it? No. What do you mean?’

  ‘Could anyone have put a bomb on it?’

  ‘A bomb! No.’

  ‘Sure? Because you’ll be on it with me,
sir.’ We boarded.

  ‘Pretty damn sure, I’ve been here all the time. The pilots had a coffee and used the toilets, then we sat chatting, they’re ex-RAF.’

  ‘Fingers crossed then. Fly me to Scotland, whatever runway is closest to Balmoral.’

  ‘Balmoral?’

  ‘Yes, just do it, sir, world is coming to an end.’

  He stared at me as he stooped over in the aisle. ‘Aberdeen is the closest airport.’

  ‘Get me there please.’ Sat phone out, the Group Captain talking to the pilots, I called David Finch.

  ‘Wilco, you OK? What happened?’

  ‘My French escort from the airport, they were working for the other side. I killed eleven, or ten.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘Listen, Queen still in Balmoral?’

  ‘Yes, and having loud words with the Prime Minister; he wants her down in London for Diana’s mourning crowds, the press calling for that as well.’

  ‘I’m going to chat to her, she needs to know, and just to make our lives more interesting – she has investments with our Dutch friends.’

  ‘Oh hell.’

  ‘Tell her I’m on my way, talk to the RAF about this plane.’

  ‘I’ll make a call now.’

  The Group Captain finished his chat to the pilots. ‘We can’t take you to Aberdeen, we’ll go back to Northolt.’

  ‘When we get to Northolt they’ll order you to fly me to Aberdeen. Makes no difference.’

  ‘Then let them show me some paperwork, I’m responsible for this plane, and it’s not a toy.’

  ‘I understand, sir. You’re a pen pusher, I have a threat against the Queen to deal with - hard to understand from your perspective.’

  Wide-eyed and angered, he stared back. ‘A threat against the Queen?’

  ‘What the fuck is it that you think I do for the government? I tackle the most dangerous jobs, and the most sensitive jobs. I make messes go away, bodies not found. You just flew and Army major to Paris, no questions asked. When was the last time you did that?’ I waited.

  After a moment’s consideration he turned around and spoke to the pilots before he joined me again and sat. ‘We have fuel for Aberdeen.’ He finally faced me. ‘Is the Queen in danger?’

  ‘Unfortunately, more danger than she’s ever faced,’ I said with a sigh.

  ‘And … was there anything underhand about Diana’s death, car tampered with perhaps?’

  I gave him a long tired look, and eased back. ‘Save your career, sir, by not asking questions like that.’

  We started our engines with a whine.

  ‘If there was something underhand, do the public not have a right to know?’ he pressed.

  ‘They have a right to sleep at night, not knowing what I know about how the world really works, without knowing which bomb threats to the UK were dealt with quietly, the evidence made to go away.’

  I turned my head towards him, suddenly very tired. ‘Is it not better than men in the shadows keep the horrors out of the press, the threats played down, the bogeyman belittled. Do we not tell our children that there’s no monster in the cupboard.

  ‘Or do we tell our daughters that in university there’s a good chance of being drugged and raped.’ I sighed. ‘Men have come for me, and they’ve been dealt with quietly, bodies buried deep, and I have no thirst to see the detail in the press, the public worried. You work for the same government that I do, and that government makes decisions on our behalf, to keep some things quiet and not to worry the public.’

  ‘And should the public be worried?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And are men in Mi5 dirty?’

  I nodded back at him.

  He faced front as we taxied around. ‘I served twenty-four years for Queen and country, honourably, not for those bastards to plot and scheme and set off bombs.’

  ‘It’s not the first time, and the other incidents were … made to go away. It takes a certain type of person to be a spy, a fine line between loyalty and arrogance, between duty and … spite, between doing what they’re told to do and doing what they think is best.

  ‘Unlike the RAF, spies have personalities on a knife edge, and they can fall on the wrong side. And I’m sure that some probably thought that bumping off Diana might be a good thing for the Royal Family and the nation, not see her marrying a Muslim.’

  ‘Would not have surprised me if Charles had wanted her dealt with.’

  ‘Your rank precludes such thoughts, and such talk.’

  He stared at me, angered. ‘Unfortunately, it does.’

  An hour and forty minutes later we touched down at Aberdeen’s small airport, and as I exited I was hit with a stiff breeze. Seeing a police helicopter, pilots sat setting controls, I walked straight for them as I took out my phone.

  ‘David, what’s the word with the Queen?’

  ‘She’s sat waiting. Oddly enough, she offered no objections whatsoever. Most odd.’

  ‘I’ll be there very soon.’

  I focused on the helo crew. They saw me, I pointed at them. To the rear door I strode, opening the rear, and I rudely eased inside as the co-pilots stared at me, the headsets placed on, a glance over some expensive thermal imaging kit.

  ‘I’m Major Wilco, SAS, and I need a ride to Balmoral Castle.’

  ‘You’re Wilco?’

  ‘How many men get a private RAF jet and a fucking Group Captain at his disposal?’

  They exchanged looks, having seen me exit the aircraft.

  I added, ‘There’s a threat to the Queen, MOD sent me. We can go inside and make a call and waste time, or you get me there before there’s an incident you’re reading about in tomorrow’s papers. Contact the tower, notify them that I’ve commandeered you, or we go waste some time.’

  The pilot started the engines, soon on the radio, his co-pilot rushing through the pre-flight and start-up checks.

  The co-pilot asked, ‘That plane waiting for you?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll be on the ground at Balmoral less than an hour, if all goes well.’

  ‘You want ground units dispatched?’

  ‘There’s an RAF Chinook with men on,’ I lied. ‘Hope they’re not needed, could be a false alarm.’

  In that same stiff breeze we lifted off, the nose down as we picked up speed, soon whizzing past fields with sheep, rolls of hay, tractors seen, soon hills glimpsed – and soon approached.

  I told them, ‘Nice around here in the summer, I’ve only seen the Highlands on exercise, and the weather was always terrible.’

  ‘They say you jumped from a helo up here..?’

  ‘Yes, a Puma, the crew killed. We heard a loud bang, metal on metal grinding as we were doing a hundred miles an hour towards a cliff. We saw the lake and chanced it.’

  ‘If the gearbox goes we drop like a stone, little auto-rotate,’ the pilot noted. ‘Always checking the oil for metal particles.’

  ‘You flew up from London,’ the co-pilot noted.

  ‘No, Orly Airport Paris.’ I sighed. ‘You’ll see it on the news later, but … I shot dead eleven French police officers.’

  ‘You … what?’

  ‘They tried to kill me, long story.’

  They exchanged looks

  ‘And the Mi5 mini-bus?’

  ‘Little shits in Intel doing their own thing, and thinking they know best how the world should be run, not the elected government.’

  ‘Bad business, chaos merchants, not the rule of law.’

  ‘Some people … can make more money from chaos,’ I told them as I stared out the window.

  Castle sighted, we set down on the front lawns, and I told my pilots that I was expected, and to wait. And there she was, stood waiting, staff behind her.

  I ran bent-double a few steps and straightened up as the rotors wound down, striding across whilst taking in the old castle, but it had little in the way of battlements. I stopped in front of her. ‘Ma’am,’ I let out whilst studying her old woollen tights.

  She ge
stured me to the grounds without a word, but with a stern look, and led the way, walking with a slight stoop.

  ‘I guess you figured this would be a private chat,’ I began.

  ‘The Government would not send you … if it was good news, or it could be handled over the phone. Rumours abound of you cleaning up messes for the Government, so I’m wondering what the mess is.’

  I glanced at her.

  ‘I’m far more informed than you realise.’

  ‘Sadly, you’re blind to what goes on around you, Ma’am.’

  She shot me an angry look. We walked on. ‘Explain that statement!’

  ‘They killed Diana, they have the evidence, to blackmail Mi6 and our Government. And you.’

  She stopped dead, horrified. ‘They?’

  ‘The Dutch bank you invest in.’ She puzzled that with a heavy frown. ‘Let me start at the beginning. My actions in West Africa started out as being hostage rescue, but we came across coup attempts, and I stopped them with my men. A certain Dutch investment company, owners of the Royal Bank of the Netherlands, has a subsidiary that organises these coups – to get at the oil and the mines.

  ‘The experts tell us that the oceanic continental shelf off Guinea, Sierra Leone and Liberia is rich in oil, worth trillions, and they want to get at it. My recent actions in Guinea stopped a coup, and I stopped other coup attempts previously, the most famous being the small war our military fought in Liberia. I got the credit, I also got a man – or ten – sent to kill me, the mess covered up, bodies buried, the public none the wiser.’

  ‘They blame you? You followed orders?’

  ‘I did follow orders, Ma’am, but my fame caused some anger in far off corners. The bank’s subsidiary is far more aggressive than you would believe, they kill on a daily basis, but -’ I heaved a sigh. ‘- they have people in Mi5, parliament, the City of London Corporation, French Intel, the European Parliament, relationships going back a hundred years.

  ‘I don’t know why they’re being more open and aggressive at the moment, maybe the culmination of me costing them a great deal of money, and … they tried to bring down a tall London building.’

  She offered me a shocked look.