Wilco- Lone Wolf 21

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘Should he use the Officers Mess?’

  ‘Only if he wants to. And find some good rooms or a house for Morten's medics, there'll be four here from now on, all the time.’

  ‘There is a house they can use, I'll get it checked, new bedding.’

  Rocko stepped in. I waved him closer. ‘We'll have four RAF medics here permanently, MOD wants them stood behind the soldiers using the new ranges.’

  ‘Some young Para will put a round through his foot sooner or later.’

  ‘When they have down time, the medics, sort range time and some laps for them.’

  ‘Do I have to be nice to Tomo now?’ he complained.

  Those in the room laughed. ‘You have to be nice till his skin graft is sorted, then you can hit him.’

  ‘He did very well,’ the nice lady captain told Rocko. ‘So don't be mean.’

  ‘You don't have to work with him, Ma'am. Has he smacked your arse yet?’

  ‘If he smacks my arse I'll knock his teeth out,’ she threatened.

  I told Rocko, ‘She's tough, our Captain Perky.’

  She spun and glowered at me.

  ‘Perky?’ Sanderson asked, just stepping out of his office, the nice lady captain about to faint.

  I told him, ‘When I call in at 5am she's always perky, the men … less so.’

  ‘Really?’ Some of the captains looked worried. ‘They better sort out their ideas when on night shift,’ he warned. ‘But good to know she's perky.’

  Well, if looks could kill. She headed to the toilet to compose herself.

  Sitting at the large new computer, I could see Wolves in Moldova still, at the border. It seemed to work well enough.

  After a long stroll in fine weather I arrived back at the house. Tea made, my nurse noted, ‘That lady captain, she looked like she wanted to kill you...’

  ‘She once had erect nipples in uniform, wrong bra, hence I call her perky.’

  ‘I'd avoid her if I was you.’

  ‘Yes, for a while, till I can run away quickly.’

  ‘Tiny likes you...’

  I sipped my tea. ‘It would be selfish, because if the bad boys knew I liked someone they'd try and kill them, and they have done. They killed my father, went for others. Dating someone is like handing them a death sentence.’

  ‘Makes it hard for you to have a life...’

  ‘Very hard. But when you're always going at 100mph you don't notice the passing of the years. And the fact is … I'm doing good work, stopping the bombs and the terrorists and the idiots who want to rule the world their way.’

  ‘For how much longer?’

  I glanced at her. ‘That's down to luck and random chance. Look at Tomo. He could be dead, bullet grazed his skull, but it won't affect him, he's sat over there now boasting about it.’

  ‘And Swifty..?’

  ‘Is terrified of the outside world and being a nobody, an old man in a nursing home being spoon fed. He told me not to hold him back, so I took him on the para drop.’

  ‘He has nothing to lose. He needs a family.’

  ‘And I'd be happy to see him get one, and live to a ripe old age. So if you can organise that, do so.’

  I lay down and slept, a little tired after my walk.

  At midnight I was up and peeing into a bottle, and in need of a glass of water. At the sink I ran the water, the light off, a shadow seen at the back window. It was moving slowly, too slowly.

  Rushing to my room, and in pain for doing so, I grabbed my pistol and moved to the front door, wondering if it was one of the MPs – and if I was being paranoid. Door opened quietly, I stepped barefoot into the cold night air, the concrete path freezing, no one seen, an MP jeep driving around the far side. I glanced down at a slug and tried to avoid stepping on it barefoot.

  Stepping onto the damp grass, a snail crunched under foot, I grimaced and wiped my foot in the wet grass, one foot remaining on the concrete path, and I peered around the side of the house and down, not seeing anyone.

  The tremendous blast had me ducking, my ears ringing, the sounds of breaking glass behind me. I shook my head, stunned, and peered inside my house as many bright fires now burnt.

  ‘Swifty! Get out now! Swifty!'

  He came running down the stairs with the nurse, just his pants on, pistol in hand. She had bra and pants on, a jacket thrown over her as the fires spread, the base alarm sounding out. Footsteps registered behind me, dogs barking.

  With Swifty and my nurse outside I shouted at the MPs to get the fires out. Extinguisher grabbed from a jeep, two men rushed inside, numerous small fires tackled.

  One ran back to the doorway. ‘It's phosphorous! Can't get it out.’

  ‘There's a body!' someone shouted, and barefoot or not, pain or not, I walked around the house as Moran and Ginger ran in.

  An MP was knelt over a body, flames seen on that body. ‘He set off his own bomb, phosphorous as well as Semtex.’

  ‘Get me his fucking ID!'

  ‘I recognise him, he's a Yank Wolf.’

  ‘What!' I screamed.

  The ID was brought to me. ‘He has a pistol as well, sir, Berretta.’

  I walked back to the front of the house, smoke billowing, and into the light of a jeep, Swifty and the nurse close by, my feet freezing. I had a look at the ID.

  To the MPs I said, ‘He never flew here with a bomb, so check the cameras tomorrow and see when he went off base.’ I called London as Echo men ran in. ‘It's Wilco, Broken Arrow! An American Wolf recruit just tried to blow me up with a bomb laced with phosphorous.’

  ‘What!'

  ‘Run this name.’ I gave the detail, name and DOB. ‘Pass it officially to the CIA.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Have MI5 send a team.’

  'Oxford Police Duty -'

  ‘This is the Duty Officer, SIS. Broken Arrow, Broken Arrow! Bomb blast, men hurt at GL4.’

  I called Max, waking him. ‘Did I wake you?’

  ‘Of course you fucking woke me!'

  ‘Get a paper and pen.’

  ‘Hang on. OK.’

  ‘Put on Reuters straight away. An American Wolf recruit tonight tried to plant at bomb at the home of Major Wilco as he lay in bed recovering from his wounds -'

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Major Wilco received only minor cuts, his house wrecked and set alight. The soldier – you can name him and give his DOB – was killed as he planted the bomb, an unregistered illegal pistol found on him. He was killed by his own bomb, which contained phosphorous to start a fire.’

  ‘Fucking Yank media will go ape.’

  ‘That's the hope. Send it.’

  The MPs insisted they drive me to the Officers Mess, the fires still burning in my house, so we mounted up and were driven around, Swifty freezing. At the Officers Mess we found Doc Willy up and ready, an Intel captain with him.

  There were enough rooms, so we all grabbed one, Swifty soon wrapped in a blanket. Ginger brought over a pair of well-worn blue slippers, some clean socks, and Doc Willy had spare clothes for Swifty, some found for our nurse as I walked around in blue slippers.

  Finally sat downstairs, warm cuppas in hand, MPs drove over and informed us that the fire was out now, and they handed us clothes and boots grabbed from our upstairs rooms, the nurse handed her backpack.

  My phone trilled, No.1. ‘Hey No.1.’

  Doc Willy puzzled the reference.

  ‘Story came up on Reuters so they woke me. A Wolf recruit?’

  ‘Yes, so we have to figure out who recruited him as a young soldier then encouraged him to apply to be a Wolf – and to get close to me.’

  ‘Deep State?’

  ‘Not necessarily. That story on Reuters will spook someone, and I think the lad primed his bomb incorrectly, blew himself up.’

  ‘So not an expert, not Wolf in Wolf's clothing.’

  ‘Bob, that was good, I shall have to remember that one.’

  ‘You hurt?’

  ‘No, I was up and peeing thankfully, o
r I would have been blasted with glass, maybe killed, and set alight by phosphorous. Talk soon, and tell No.7 I'm fine.’

  Call ended, Doc Willy noted, ‘If I didn't know better I'd think you were some sort of spy chap.’

  I smiled, and turned to the nurse. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Would like to have got hold of that fucker, sir, and kicked him to death.’

  I faced Swifty as he stared at her wide-eyed. ‘Don't go upsetting this lady.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed.

  ‘But it's good to know that she's the kind of lady that will fight back, not whimper.’

  She put in, ‘Man tried to rape me last year, and I smashed his face against iron railings … like twenty times.’

  Swifty was looking worried as I smirked at him.

  ‘Army nurses,’ Doc Willy noted. ‘And from the Combat Team. They make ‘em tough.’

  Rocko stepped in, kitted for war. ‘You still alive?’

  ‘Just about. Listen, I want none of our lot giving the Wolf recruits a hard time, that guy would have been recruited as a young soldier by some very capable people. You sort them before I start shooting at people.’

  ‘We keep the Yanks here?’

  ‘Yes, keep training them, but restrict movement at night, no one goes anywhere alone.’

  I headed up to bed, the meds still an issue, lay down and closed my eyes – phone off, many men patrolling around. Question was, did any want me dead? The meds forced me into the land of dreams.

  My nurse woke me, brew in hand, and I eased up. ‘Did you strain the stitches last night?’ she asked.

  ‘No, no sudden movements.’

  She had a look as I stood, and all was OK.

  Dressed now, she led me down and I joined a few of the Intel captains as they ate breakfast, Doc Willy sat eating. From the Brize Norton batman I ordered a hearty breakfast.

  As I finished the breakfast the Wolf captain stepped in, looking fraught. ‘I … can't apologise enough for what that man did, or tried to do. Rest of the Wolves are shocked, you're a hero to them, they'd have liked to have caught up with him. Are you gunna ship them out?’

  ‘No, it was just one man, at least we hope it was. Training as normal, since they need to get used to the unusual aspects of Intel work.’

  ‘Joint Chiefs have been screaming, US media going nuts, President has vowed to catch whoever recruited that Wolf. It's a mess, a real mess.’

  ‘Keep them busy, not sat around gossiping.’

  The MP captain stepped in. ‘Sir, we found a phone on the body, MI5 men took it. But the CT police rang London with it first, if that helps.’

  ‘It will, they've had time to track it. How's my house?’

  ‘In need of a decorator, or ten, SOCO there now. Get comfy in this place.’

  ‘Bugger.’

  Ten minutes later a familiar MI5 officer stepped in with his buddy, long wax coats on. ‘Got a hit from that phone, Washington.’

  ‘No surprises there.’

  ‘Someone you upset over there?’

  ‘There are factions with their own ideas about how to rule the world, shall we say. Any local calls?’

  ‘A local hit, trying to trace it now.’

  ‘That would be the bomb man, since I don't think they flew here with it. Gate cameras?’

  ‘He went to the pub with a group, walked back alone.’

  ‘And grabbed the bomb from the bushes on the side of the road. We need lists of cars using this part of the UK, petrol station receipts, motorway cameras, hotels.’

  He nodded and headed out.

  Tinker stepped in fifteen minutes later, and nodded me outside. Out in the cold he said, ‘We have a link from your bomber to Manstein.’

  ‘Ah, so the FBI has its own Deep State within. Work on that assumption, have Reggie and the team on it. In the mean time I'll spook them.’ I called Max. ‘You awake?’

  ‘Just about.’

  ‘Put on Reuters that British Intel have linked the Wolf recruit with a bomb to FBI Agent Manstein.’

  ‘What!' he hissed.

  ‘Do it.’

  ‘You'll hear the screams all the way over here.’

  David called half an hour later. ‘I just got the updates, and the Reuters releases. What the blazes are you up to?’

  ‘Trying to spook them. There's a Deep State buried within the FBI, and Manstein was linked in, and … they want me gone and Tomsk gone.’

  ‘Then maybe your buddies in the other Deep State will do something – for a change.’

  ‘They don't know who the FBI men are, I asked last time.’

  ‘Hard to fight back when you don't know who you're fighting against. Deep State left hand, Deep State right hand, Deep State no longer welcome, or FBI Deep State.’

  ‘It is a tangled web,’ I agreed. ‘So let's hope they sort it. It's their mess not ours.’

  ‘You were not hurt?’

  ‘A few seconds earlier and they would have had me, the guy primed the bomb wrongly. As No.1 said, he was no Wolf in Wolf's clothing.’

  ‘That's good, I'll borrow that one. And if you identify someone in FBI Deep State?’

  ‘They get dealt with. And I'm starting to wonder who was behind the uranium.’

  ‘Since they want you dead, and this week, they must have an interest in the uranium, yes.’ He sighed loudly. ‘It was so much easier when all we had to worry about was Russia and World War Three.’

  ‘The good old days, eh.’

  ‘I now have two armed men drive me everywhere. And I worry more, my daughters asking questions about my drivers.’

  ‘I'll try harder to stop upsetting people.’

  Miller's boss called lunchtime. ‘Wilco, you hurt?’

  ‘No, they missed by a few seconds.’

  ‘We're beyond livid, beyond enraged and pissed off. They're pissing in our pond and we don't like it.’

  ‘Know who they are?’

  ‘We heard things, right back from the days of J.Edgar Hoover, the original Deep State. But they don't talk to us, or to the military.’

  ‘They talk to someone in the military, they recruited that Wolf when he joined up, not recently.’

  ‘We'll look at that yes, but your Reuters story has muddied the waters some, his family being interviewed by the media as we speak.’

  ‘They'll be running scared, and that's how people make mistakes. They'll rush to hide his handler, so look for his handler, because that man would have gotten access to a military base and pretended to be CIA. Look at his first posting.’

  ‘You're a fucking genius at this game.’

  ‘I have moments.’

  ‘Assault on Precinct 13, 1976.’

  ‘What..?’

  ‘One of my favourite films, and the bad boy character says, I have moments.’

  ‘I'll look it up.’

  No.1 called half an hour later, my nurse minding me, MPs outside. ‘I spent some money, but it was worth it. Manstein was just linked to the death of Senator Phillson, and the link should hold up under scrutiny - for a while at least.’

  ‘Bob, you're an evil little shit.’

  ‘I know. Thanks.’

  ‘The screams will be loud Stateside.’

  ‘They already are.’

  ‘No.7?’

  ‘In Prague, looking at a Russian who's linked in.’

  ‘I need a link between him and Manstein, a genuine one. Tell Tiny: any doubts and just kill the guy.’

  ‘She has a rifle, and back-up, and No.55 is there.’

  ‘55?’

  ‘Your former sniper.’

  ‘Why 55?’

  ‘He said he had a toy car when he was young, red, 55 on it. Easy to remember.’

  ‘Car 55 it is then.’

  ‘We saw the CCTV tape of Tomo, good shooting, but does he have a death wish?’

  ‘No, he's just too stupid to consider the afterlife. Ignorance is indeed bliss.’

  ‘Wish I had some, I'd sleep better.’

  ‘I have pain me
ds, great for sleeping.’

  ‘How is it?’

  ‘Sore, throbbing, but the meds suppress it. I just need to avoid getting blown up.’

  I sat in the Officers Mess all day, Intel officers coming in to get meals, many chatting about the American Wolf spy. After 6pm the mess was quiet, the batman off to Brize Norton, no night staff nor meals so the regular canteen would have to be used, but it was just a short walk away.

  At 9pm I was sat with Swifty and my nurse, Doc Willy with us, Graveson on guard duty.

  Graveson touched his ear mic. ‘Intruder in the south woods,’ he shouted and stepped outside as Swifty, myself and Doc Willy all checked pistols.

  'Duty Officer Oxford Regional Police-'

  ‘This is the Duty MP, GL4. Broken Arrow, Broken arrow, armed intruder spotted, south woods!'

  Ten seconds later the GPMGs opened up, two of them, Elephant Guns heard as the base alarm sounded out.

  I sent the nurse upstairs and called London. ‘It's Wilco, Broken Arrow! Intruder in the south woods, shots fired!'

  After it fell quiet I stepped out into the cold night with Swifty, Graveson reporting, ‘Lone gunman, rifle.’ Echo lads and British Wolves were now rushing past and to the armoury.

  ‘Send someone around to look for a vehicle.’ We stepped back into the small Officers Mess.

  Graveson came in ten minutes later. ‘Boss, they found a car, plus a ladder at the fence.’

  I gave Swifty a puzzled look. ‘We have regular patrols, so this guy was an idiot. Why leave a car there, and would he take a shot at night?’

  ‘Fuck no,’ Swifty let out. ‘Amateur.’

  ‘A distraction,’ Doc Willy suggested, and I nodded my agreement.

  I told Graveson, ‘Transmit that it's a distraction, contact imminent. And tell them that the most likely attack will be someone bluffing their way through the front gate.’

  He stepped out and transmitted the warning as a standard military jeep slowly drove around through the dark, headlights on. I was stood just inside the doorway with Swifty, peering out, our two tanks seen with their lights on – for all the deterrent they were.

  The jeep pulled up, Graveson stepping to it. A question asked with a smile, and he jumped back, aiming at the driver as a shout was issued. He fired three times as I shoved Swifty back into the Officers Mess, the lights knocked off as I shouted ‘Down!'