Wilco- Lone Wolf 21

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘Water is not good for storing or transporting radiation, and we use water to cool nuclear reactors, pump it into the rivers, all quite safe. Radiation needs something to latch onto, something solid, like metal. The fish would absorb it, so fishing in the Med would be out for many years.

  ‘Then there are the undersea cables, they'd be irradiated, and particles would wash up on the beaches. Those particles won't kill anyone, just elevate the chances of cancer, but we tend to err on the side of caution, and even a small reading would close the beaches for years.

  ‘So the effect would be closed beaches but no deaths, no fishing, and ships moving through the waters might pick up radiation on their hulls. Radiation in water is less of a problem than in the air. In the air it spreads far and wide, less so in water.’

  ‘Do me a favour, and get your best brains checking all that and reporting up the line to the Prime Minister, because this time tomorrow you might see it happen.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘Chat to Doctor Summers when you can, he's flying at the moment.’

  My phone trilled. ‘Duty Officer, SIS, and we have a plane at Bremen Airport.’

  ‘I'll head there now.’

  ‘Go to the luxury jet area.’

  A glance at my muddy boots, and I rallied the team, crates lugged, the MPs to give us a lift, and we set off in a hurry, Moran to organise the exercises whilst I was away.

  In the jeep, Swifty asked, ‘Where we off?’

  ‘Private jet to Gibraltar. But by time we get there it might all be over, the ship stopped.’

  ‘Why not do that anyhow?’

  ‘Would you just hand yourself over to face the death penalty?’

  ‘Well, no, I might blow the ship and sink it to spite you, with the radioactive stuff on it. Will it contaminate the Med?’

  ‘Not in a huge way, but they'd close the beaches in Spain and France for a hundred years.’

  ‘Fucking European economy would take a hit!'

  I nodded. Taking out my phone, I checked the driver and called No.1. In Russian, I began, ‘Assume that the European stock markets will crash tomorrow, and try and make some money.’

  ‘Why will they crash?’

  ‘The Spanish and French coastlines could be closed permanently due to the radiation.’

  ‘What! You do realise where I live!'

  ‘Bet the downside, and yes – you may have to avoid those nice long beach walks for a few thousand years. Get Tomsk to bet the downside. But tell me, where's the market now, up or down?’

  ‘Up, expecting a correction.’

  At the airport we found the luxury jet section in the dark, luckily expected, the staff shocked at the uniforms – a glance at my muddy boots by the nice lady receptionist. We were led to a Gulfstream, crates in the cargo hold, soon boarding and asked to sit in the middle.

  ‘This is the way to get to work,’ Dicky commended.

  ‘For condemned men,’ I told him, making them laugh.

  ‘Last meal of caviar,’ Henri suggested.

  After take-off, the pilot came back. ‘You are Major Vilco, yah?’

  In German, I said, ‘I seem taller on the TV.’

  He smiled. ‘We will be in Gibraltar in just over two hours. They said it was urgent.’

  ‘I have to transfer to a ship.’

  ‘No nuclear bomb in Africa?’

  ‘No, just twenty year old contaminated metal. Don't believe what the American media says.’

  He returned to the cockpit, and the three air hostesses warmed up food for us after issuing menus.

  ‘This is fucking posh, ain't it,’ Dicky noted.

  ‘It is, you're not, so clam up.’

  ‘What's wrong with me?’ Dicky protested as Swifty laughed at him.

  ‘You look like Henri and sound like Tomo.’

  As Henri ran a hand over his scarred bald plate, Dicky said, ‘That's nice that is, and here we are risking our lives.’

  ‘You're a good solider, not a good socialite,’ I told him.

  ‘We are unsung heroes,’ Henri noted. ‘All of Europe will be worried, and watching the TV, but if they walk past us in the street they don't know us.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ I told him. ‘If you're killed I make sure they show your photo.’

  ‘Ah, yes, such a benefit,’ Henri complained as Swifty laughed.

  At Gibraltar we taxied into a sea of flashing blue lights.

  ‘Very subtle,’ Swifty complained. ‘Now every fucker will know we're here.’

  Down from the plane, Mutch was waiting.

  ‘No, you don't get a hug,’ I told him.

  He introduced a police commander. Mutch told me, ‘There's a room for you. Just four of you?’

  ‘More on the way, some French. At least I hope they're on they’re way.’

  My phone trilled as the crates were sorted. ‘Duty Officer, SIS, and I guess you just landed - because the phone now works.’

  ‘Yes, what you got?’

  ‘First, the Americans confirmed the radiation spike on that ship. Second, that ship is two hours from Gibraltar, and its paperwork says it's headed to Aden next. Third, weather is OK, wind is 15-25 knots at the moment. It will drop later, but at no time in the next few days will it drop below 12 knots where you are.

  ‘Fourth, French Marine Commandos on their way. Five, Navy ordered to stay away, no closer than sixty miles to the target ship, but a French submarine is closing in from the Mediterranean side. Americans have ships closing in from both sides.’

  ‘Any news leaked?’

  ‘Not about the ship near you, just about the radiation in Liberia.’

  ‘Update everyone that we wait for the French commandos and the RAF Hercules.’

  ‘Ah, that flight … should be there soon, hour or so.’

  Call ended, it beeped, so I called back Salome. ‘You called me?’

  ‘Yes. My uncle did not admit anything, but hinted they killed the scientist. The processed uranium came from the Ukraine, he doesn't know why, or where it is.’

  ‘Update your people, that material is on a ship, Clava II, about to pass Gibraltar heading for Aden.’

  ‘I tell them now, I look good.’

  ‘You always look good.’

  ‘I do?’

  ‘Apart from when you're asleep, you snore a little.’

  ‘I snore?’

  I cut the call, smiling.

  The police drove us the short distance to our nominated building, and I could see the Spanish coast one way, the Rock the other way. Inside, they fetched us tea and coffee, crates down.

  The Rock's governor appeared with his team, and he appeared more Spanish than a pale Brit. We shook. ‘Major, what are the dangers here?’ he demanded, as if he ran the place. Which he did.

  ‘That's classified top secret, and if you discuss that outside then my government will send someone to put a bullet in you. Do you understand me?’

  He straightened, offended. ‘I'm responsible for this rock, and despite the fact that we're a British colony we have some independence here!’

  ‘There's no immediate danger to Gibraltar. We're launching an operation from here, that's all.’

  ‘We had two men killed on the streets, two bodies found on a rig, now this.’

  ‘They are related, yes, but just because of your geographical position. The rig stopped here because of a storm, not because anyone wanted to harm your citizens.’

  ‘And this operation you're about to launch?’

  ‘Is at sea, a long way off. We'll try and parachute onto a moving ship at night, from altitude.’

  ‘What? Are you mad?’

  ‘We only need one man to make it, to stop the ship. French submarine can pick up the others.’

  ‘That all sounds very dangerous, for a simple stop and search operation.’ He waited.

  ‘I'm not allowed to discuss the detail, but the action is not here, it's at sea. Contact London.’

  ‘In West Africa you were searching for
an atom bomb, now a ship coming up from Africa.’

  ‘No atom bomb on board, trust me. And if the weather is not suitable we'll simply let it sail past.’

  A plane came in and landed, another Gulfstream, the Governor being notified is was Delta Force.

  ‘Now American Delta Force here.’ He waited.

  ‘There could be hostages,’ I told him. ‘Relax. And make sure there’s a news blackout, or you won't be Governor.’

  With Castile walking in, the Governor enquired about hostages on a ship. Castile glanced at me, and I shook my head slightly. ‘Just here on standby. We'll get orders soon, I hope. Any coffee?’

  With the unhappy Governor gone, Castile asked, ‘What's the panic?’

  ‘Ship with fissile material on.’

  His team stopped dead.

  ‘You ain't planning on going aboard, are you?’

  ‘HALO drop at night, moving ship.’

  ‘Are you fucking mad?’

  ‘Stick of eight men, one snags the boat, takes the bridge. It's that or they blow it and all the beaches in the Med are closed for a thousand years.’

  ‘Hey, I love these beaches,’ came from his sergeant.

  ‘Then we best stop that ship,’ I told him. ‘Have you got night sights? Helmet fitting?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I want them. And the helmets.’

  Testing the kit, I said, ‘I'll take two volunteers from your team if you have volunteers, that way you make the news Stateside.’

  ‘I'll ask the guys, but it's a shit mission with a high price tag.’

  ‘And if that ship was heading to New York?’

  He stared back, and sighed. ‘I'll ask.’

  My phone trilled. ‘It's No.1, you down in Gibraltar?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I bet the downside via the American exchanges, not sure what Tomsk has done. And Leon bet the downside.’

  ‘I'll give you a time when I'm due to board that ship, and you can accidentally release the story then.’

  ‘We found the original insurance for that ship. Guess what?’

  ‘The Belgian bank.’

  ‘Yep. And they paid someone who's a slippery customer, so we're trying to find out who he is. Tiny is checking files as well, she's quite good at the paperwork.’

  ‘She was an officer in the RAF,’ I reminded him. ‘And her handwriting is way better than mine. Listen, if I don't make it...’

  ‘I'll take good care of her. Don't worry, go do what you're good at, clear your mind.’

  When the French C160 landed the soldiers were brought around, none of whom I recognised. Two said they had been on the boat off Somalia hit by rockets, Henri chatting to a man he knew.

  ‘What is the plan here?’ their boss asked, a tough-looking old soldier, a Lt. Col. no less.

  ‘Why did they send you, sir?’

  ‘It sounded important.’

  ‘There's a ship two hours sail from here, cargo ship, with radioactive material on board.’

  His eyebrows went up. ‘You mean to board it?’

  ‘I mean to parachute onto it at night, from altitude.’

  ‘Are you crazy?’

  ‘Your submarine is going to follow it. So we drop eight men, night sights, ahead of the ship. They drift down, one catches the metal rigging, and takes the bridge, turns the ship. Any who land in the water get picked up by the submarine.’

  ‘A hope, not a certainty.’

  ‘If that radioactive material is blown up, it will close all Spanish and French beaches for the next ten thousand years.’ I let him think about it.

  He heaved a sigh. ‘Honour dictates that we try. For France.’

  ‘For France,’ I repeated. ‘And the economy of Europe, soon to be down the toilet. You have parachutes and west suits?’

  ‘Yes,’ he sullenly answered.

  ‘We will get ready soon, but we may wait on the wind speed.’ I gathered everyone after we found a white board, most sat down, some stood around the edges. I drew the ship's outline. ‘If we pull chutes at 1,000ft, how far will we drift in a 12 knot wind?’

  ‘Sixty seconds drift,’ Dicky noted. ‘Give or take. Into the wind is slower.’

  The French debated it. ‘We say three to four hundred yards.’

  ‘So we aim at a point 300yards ahead of the ship. If the wind is here, southwest, we aim at a point 300yards behind and to the right – allowing for the ship's speed. We should get the ship's speed from the submarine.

  ‘We adjust when we get close, and we aim to snag the parachute on the metal cranes and poles. We take rope to get down, pistol and spare magazine, little more, life vest and light. Do you have a light that activates in salt water?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So each man has a light, a torch as well, life vest, pistol and spare magazine, knife maybe. Any man that gets on the ship gets to the bridge, kills or captures the crew, turn the ship around. If the ship is secure enough, helicopters come in. It's also possible that we beach the ship on the African coast, the radiation won't go far.

  ‘If you're the only man on the ship, turn the ship, kill all the crew, and then look for a bomb to disarm maybe. Steer south to the coast and west. And don't hesitate, kill all the crew – they know what they're carrying and won't let themselves be taken alive.

  ‘You are hereby ordered to kill them all not risk someone sinking the ship.’ I let them think about it. ‘If they sail the ship north, and blow up the radioactive material, French and Spanish beaches will be closed for a thousand years, the fishing industry destroyed, the economy of Europe destroyed. I need four men to volunteer, and the risks are high.’

  All of the French commandos volunteered.

  I faced the Lt. Col. ‘Pick four men without families.’

  He took in their faces, and reluctantly called names. Men hugged each other and held shoulders.

  I told the remainder, ‘You come out by helicopter when we've secured the ship. When you land – they may shoot you, so be careful. And the ship may blow up with us on it. And the radiation might be leaking.’

  I faced Castile, and waited.

  ‘I'm going, and Micky here.’

  I asked the French for spare wetsuits, and they opened their kit bags.

  My phone trilled. ‘Wilco, PM here, how's it going?’

  ‘We have the men and the equipment, sir, waiting for the RAF Hercules and some good weather.’

  ‘None of us want you on the mission.’

  ‘I understand, sir, I'll supervise.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Fuck no, I'm going.’

  ‘And if we ordered you not to?’

  ‘Then we'd have a problem in our future working relationship. I'm going because I have a good chance of succeeding, and saving the European economy. I'm the best man for the job, and the stakes are high here, very high.’

  ‘I understand the logic. But you are hereby requested not to go.’

  ‘I acknowledge your request, sir.’

  ‘Well good luck.’

  The Hercules landed half an hour later, and now we were set, both C160 crew and the RAF crew in having coffee as I detailed the mission, aircraft being refuelled.

  The RAF pilot said, ‘We'd need position correction from the ground.’

  ‘You have GPS, and we can get the ship's GPS track,’ I told them. ‘Just need the ship on a straight course for ten minutes.

  The C160 pilot offered, ‘We can fly at 2,000metre behind the ship, it will not see or hear us, and we give the position, then we turn away.’

  ‘That could work,’ I agreed.

  The Lt. Col. stepped in. ‘Our submarine will be close to the ship in thirty minutes. Two destroyer ahead, fifty miles, one ship behind forty miles. It can pick up men in the water.’

  ‘We time it so that the submarine is a mile behind, your ship twenty miles behind. At the point we drop, the ship increases speed. That ship has a helicopter?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Commandos?’
/>   ‘Yes.’

  ‘It launches five minutes after the estimated time we land, to try and land four men on the bridge, then to rescue men in the water.’

  ‘I talk to them now.’

  The police commander stepped in.

  I asked him, ‘You have search and rescue helos and boats?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have them on standby, launch the boats ready, fuel the helos. What's their range?’

  ‘We cover about sixty miles. When that ship passes through it will be within ten miles.’

  ‘Winches?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have a doctor on board, oxygen. And go check that we have a news blackout. Give a fake story if you have to.’

  He nodded and stepped out.

  I called Tinker, and he was getting the ship's track in ten minute intervals and would relay them to Mutch, Mutch to update the air traffic controller here, the ATC to update the Hercules.

  I stepped to Swifty and led him to one side. ‘If I was a clever fuck, and on that ship, I would get to know about all this activity here.’

  ‘What can they do? Blow it early, shoot at us as we land? If they know we're onto them they know that half the fucking Navy is ahead of them and they turn back.’

  I nodded, and took in the men getting ready.

  ‘Is this job really necessary?’ he asked.

  I considered my answer. ‘The people who sent that boat are the same ones that sent the drug boat to the UK, so maybe the crew don't know it's wired to blow. If they crew do know then they're armed and expecting trouble, a warm welcome for us. But they'd not expect parachutes at night, they'd expect a destroyer bearing down on them.’

  ‘What's on the news?’

  ‘The place in Liberia is on the news, so if they're paying attention they know they're on the clock. The smart men behind this must be wired-in enough to know we're here.’

  ‘Like you said, they'd not figure on a parachute drop. Even a crazy person wouldn't figure on that,’ he emphasised.

  ‘If you make it onto the ship alone, shoot the bridge crew, turn the ship south then west, and if there's a second man go search for a bomb. If it's just you, wait on the outside railings ready to jump. If it blows you'll have seconds.’

  ‘This is not quite our usual work...’

  ‘Got somewhere to be?’

  ‘No, but the sensible part of me is worried.’