Wilco- Lone Wolf 21

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘You have a family fortune?’

  ‘Well, when my father dies I share it with my brother. He has power of attorney, and he's a right pain in the arse. There's no cash but we have a shit load of farmland to sell, paid for by the money stolen here.’

  ‘Wow. Maybe you know someone buried here, we could check the index.’

  ‘He was a dick plantation owner who fucked his black slaves, so fuck him. He had eight half-caste kids.’

  ‘Guess that happened a lot in those days.’

  I had a good look at some old cannons, and paid to try a flintlock, hitting an old whisky jug, a large puff of smoke shrouding me.

  ‘Good aim, son,’ the old man told me, his beard down to his waist.

  ‘I normally use a Valmet.’

  ‘Valmet? 7.62 Russian old standard?’

  ‘You know your rifles.’

  ‘It's my passion, and I got me a Valmet.’ He waved me to a side room off the range, and opened a tall metal case, a black Valmet pulled out.

  ‘I have a green one, brown for the desert,’ I told him.

  He clocked the agents, and frowned at me. ‘What ya'll do then, you a soldier?’

  I lifted a marker pen, pulled over an unused target, and wrote ‘Best Wishes, Major Wilco' on it. The old guy almost fainted. ‘Got a camera?’

  ‘Heck yes.’

  He fetched the camera as I placed on my mask, and I stood with the Valmet. Tiny took three photos of us stood together before I stripped the Valmet and had a good look.

  ‘You have some ammo?’

  He rushed to open a tin and we loaded a magazine as he told me just how much his friends would never believe this. Outside, and still with my facemask on, a crowd turned my way as they stood behind the barrier. I realised that I was in the same cheap suit, so they recognised me off the TV.

  Ducking under the barrier, I made ready the rifle, stood and aimed, and I loudly blew to pieces the bottles lined up for the musket practice. Fortunately, I hit everything I was aiming at. And at this range it would have been embarrassing if I missed.

  Magazine out, rifle made safe, and I turned, the crowd all snapping away. Back under the barrier I allowed each of ten people to stand next to me, Valmet held ready, and they all got snapped by friends and relatives.

  I handed back the Valmet and thanked our host, and with facemask still on we reclaimed the vans, heading back to Washington, and once in the city and the traffic we had a tour around Congress. We did not venture inside since I figured I would not be that popular today. The assistant to the Deputy Chief called at 3pm, so we headed south, an hour's drive, but the traffic was OK, our driver tipped well.

  At security they were expecting us, the agents flashing badges, and we were soon in an underground car park, being led inside, two agents sticking close. I wondered if they were worried about rogue CIA agents.

  In the Deputy Chief's outer officer the agents waited as I was led in with Tiny. We shook.

  ‘You need better security,’ I told him.

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘Tiny, show him your knife.’

  She lifted her dress with a coy smile, the Deputy shooting me a look.

  ‘I'll have them check the foreign lady agents more carefully,’ he offered as he made us coffee. ‘So, you had a visit at your hotel; Delaney.’

  ‘You been spying on us?’ I teased.

  ‘Word travels fast in this city.’ We sat around his large modern desk, a computer either end.

  ‘He wanted a chat, and to say that he has no interest in Kosovo but could I clean up Liberia a little, better for business, better for the Masonic Peoples of Liberia.’

  ‘I know my history,’ he complained.

  I thumbed at Tiny. ‘Her great grandfather fought for the south.’

  He focused on her. ‘A traitor in our midst. Not some sort of spy, are you?’

  ‘Trainee.’

  I turned my head to her. ‘That Russian in Prague..?’

  ‘I lured him into the toilets for sex, and he could see I was unarmed, but I had a .22 in a tampon. I took my dress off and slipped out the small window, shoulder at a time, and I'm supple. Prints wiped first of course.’

  ‘Prague police are baffled,’ the Deputy told us. ‘So good work, not that we approve of extra-judicial murder.’

  ‘You couldn't deal with that Delta quietly?’ I asked.

  ‘He was arrested by your police, processed, so he was in the system. We had to extradite him. Being that he was working for us the extradition was very quick and easy.’

  ‘And the Berlin FBI chief?’

  ‘Has been linked to Chevron. But after your timely intervention the White House has changed tack and is slowing things down. DOJ is delaying an investigation in to Chevron, and we're piecing things together. Since the subsidiary is registered in Europe ... we can get involved.’

  ‘If you need someone to go away, and quietly, let us know.’

  ‘Any more speeches planned?’

  ‘No, I got to chat to the President, slowed him down, and I slowed down the media - I hope.’

  ‘You're popular in here, we managed to smile today. Some FBI agents, they were finding it hard to function. They'd turn up to question someone and they'd get abuse about working for the mob.’

  ‘It will take time,’ I said with a sigh and sipped my coffee.

  ‘Your boys made the papers again, Kosovo, more KLA shot up. We've had a message from the KLA, complaining. There could be trouble there, the KLA going after your men.’

  ‘They'd lose the men.’

  ‘Your people need to cross the border and be picked up, and those are KLA supporters.’

  ‘I'll find them another way out, don't worry.’ I pointed at his phone. ‘Can you get Colonel Mathews at the Pentagon.’

  He made the call and reached over the phone.

  ‘Wilco?’

  ‘Sir, I'm formally requesting twelve American Wolves for Kosovo, passive intel gathering, fast as you can. I'll bolster my teams as well, we need more boots on the ground.’

  ‘I'll sort the paperwork now, veteran Wolves are available.’

  ‘That would be good, sir. Wilco out.’ I faced the Deputy as he placed down the phone. ‘With Americans in the mix the KLA will not dare go for the teams. We already have two Americans in the mix, but this move will be seen by the KLA as the new men cross the border.’

  ‘They don't dare upset us, we're bankrolling their independence.’

  ‘I met the Serb Ambassador, and he's chatting to his government about a peaceful settlement. I threatened to send all my men in, and it's not a big place. I could put five hundred men in a small area.’

  ‘Serbs would be massacred, and they know it. Did you base all your training on what you learnt in Bosnia?’

  ‘Yes, and designed the Valmet around it, dog evasion training. My boys are good in the woods. But Murphy is superb, and he spent his youth hunting game. He set up snares in Germany, and the dogs chasing him all ended up on their backs and hog-tied.’

  He laughed. ‘In Kentucky they teach that in 5th grade. In class!'

  ‘A good place to recruit men,’ I told him. ‘Men like Murphy are at home in the woods, no fear.’

  ‘And anyone standing out in our Wolves?’

  ‘I never got to chat to them at length, but they all make the grade. Yet to be seen if there are any genuine Lone Wolves in the pack, but I would say that five of them would be like Murphy.’

  ‘He could go across a border and shoot someone?’

  ‘Yes, and get back out in one piece, no evidence left behind. I have five new men, and they all show great potential, as good as I was when I started.’

  ‘We all watched the video of your man in Bosnia, and that was a reminder of what your boys can do. They all shoot like circus performers?’

  ‘Many shoot well, yes. Tomo is in the top group.’

  He faced Tiny. ‘And you?’

  ‘I'm good with my M4, but I generally like the up-close kill, knife
in the throat. Men never suspect me, always thinking with their dicks. And who examines a lady's tampon?’

  ‘She plays to her strengths,’ I told him. ‘And we recruited a former Deep State lady, testing her as we speak. So far she's not contacting her old bosses, not least because Tiny here killed her old bosses.’

  ‘You trust her?’

  ‘We'll give her time, and she gave up people she had worked with in Africa. She'd be a good candidate for you, good looking, big boobs, and a poor moral compass.’

  ‘Might look at her, yes.’

  I faced Tiny. ‘Remind No.1 when we get back, a test for her, a big bag of cash discovered somewhere, tracker in it.’

  She nodded.

  ‘You don't seem injured..?’

  ‘A bit of a limp, and every now and then I get a pain shooting up my spine. I'll be taking it easy for a while, I certainly won't be parachuting into a place.’

  He introduced many of his senior staff, hands shaken, questions asked about jobs and men, attacks at the base.

  At one lady, in her late thirties but good looking and fit, I paused since I recognised her. ‘What's your area?’

  ‘Was Asia for a long time, now I coordinate field training.’

  ‘Night or day..?’

  ‘What?’ she puzzled.

  ‘Uniform or not..?’

  She stared at me.

  ‘Hot or cold..?’

  She gave the Deputy Chief a puzzled look as I stared at her.

  ‘UK, Africa, Europe...’

  I finally snapped out a punch and sent her across a desk, people rushing in.

  The Deputy Chief stood at my side, and had failed to react. ‘Memory recall. You were trying to place her.’

  I nodded as they lifted her, all shocked. ‘Has her work ever officially crossed mine?’

  ‘No, never.’ He faced those men who were assisting her. ‘Detain her!' He faced me. ‘Where did you meet her?’

  ‘Pamela, Mi5. This lady was with her, in London.’

  The Deputy Chief stood in front of her and gave her a look that said he would kill her as everyone in the room stood frozen. ‘You wanna talk to me, or do this the hard way?’

  She lowered her head and said nothing.

  ‘Take her to holding, get a doctor to look at her nose. Isolate her!'

  They led her off.

  He faced a man. ‘You're either stupid, Bill, or involved. Either way, you're suspended, pending some Q&A. Take him to a room.’

  The man was led off, everyone else in the room shocked.

  I faced the Deputy. ‘You got a file of photos, and a large pot of coffee?’

  His shoulders fell, a loud sighed issued. ‘Come with me, we'll organise some food.’

  Near his office I whispered, ‘She could be Deep State, not FBI.’

  ‘Either way, I don't want her here.’

  I was placed behind a computer, a man operating it at my elbows, but he told me to just hit a button when I wanted to advance photos. I started to scan faces, the screen images good, the images large.

  An hour later and I had not identified anyone.

  ‘No news is good news,’ came from behind me, the Deputy. ‘They're ranked from senior down, so I'm kinda happy we don't have a high level mole.’

  ‘How many more?’

  ‘Thousands!'

  ‘Sandwich, biscuits, cup of tea.’

  Tiny sat with me, eating, and we flicked through the faces. She screamed at one. Men came running.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘I dated him briefly.’

  ‘You're sure?’

  ‘Fuck yes.’

  I faced the operator as he sat. ‘Tell me about him.’

  ‘He was … stationed in London, yes, been in Germany two years, now back here.’

  ‘Where did you meet him?’ I asked Tiny.

  ‘He was … in finance, London city, friend of a friend.’

  ‘So just a cover story, not trying to get anything from you,’ I suggested.

  ‘I was in the RAF. And I suspected him, a few too many questions, so I made my excuses and got rid of him. He was best friends with a Group Captain.’

  ‘Which … Group Captain?’ I pressed.

  ‘Head of ATC training, Poppleman.’

  I faced the operator. ‘Any reason why he would want to infiltrate the RAF?’

  ‘Would seem odd. If we need to know something about the RAF we just ask you.’

  The Deputy stepped in. ‘Got something?’

  ‘Possibly,’ I told him.

  The operator read the file jacket off the screen. ‘No listed contact with a senior RAF officer, not his area.’

  ‘Pick him up!' the Deputy ordered, calls made.

  I used the desk phone to call London. ‘It's Wilco. RAF officer, Group Captain Poppleman, is he still serving?’

  ‘Hold on … retired a year ago.’

  ‘Pick him up, Q&A, he was keeping CIA company a few years back, and the CIA don't know why, it was unauthorised. Ask David if we can do this quietly.’

  Call ended, I said, ‘So … onwards. I pressed the key.’

  An hour later and my eyes were killing me. We took a break, letting the Secret Service agents know what we were doing. They got some food and coffee delivered to them as they waited.

  An hour later and I stopped at a photo. ‘I know him, he's dead.’

  ‘Dead? Uh … no, still alive, Belgian man.’

  ‘I shot him dead, and there's no way he survived the wounds. Does he have a twin brother?’

  ‘Not listed.’

  ‘Pick him up and find out why he's alive. Which could be an odd conversation to have.’

  Calls made, and the contractor was missing, no contact for a week.

  The Deputy Chief finally told me, ‘He was a contractor, a few jobs a year, ex-Belgian mercenary, good record, no issues. His apartment has been cleaned out, a few days of mail there.’

  ‘He saw the news, figured he would be found out, maybe a link to Chevron.’

  ‘He'll be on Interpol's list tonight,’ the Chief threatened. ‘Zombie or no zombie.’

  Half an hour later, and they discovered that the file photo from Paris was different to the one in the computer, voices raised, the Deputy Chief threatening to shoot a few people. We called it a night but would return in the morning.

  Back at the hotel room I called Miller's number. He called back a few minutes later. ‘Wilco, you after me?’

  ‘I was at Langley, and they had me look at file photos, and I recognised a few people, who were picked up. If they were yours, don't blame me.’

  ‘I haven't heard of one of ours being picked up, but I'll check.’

  ‘If your people get close to me and I recognise them, it's an issue for you, so keep your people away if their faces are in the system.’

  ‘I'll review that, yes.’

  ‘Did you find any damage done at the hands of the DOD guy?’

  ‘We dealt with one other, changed a few codes and procedures. We're not hurting from this,’ he insisted.

  ‘I'm at the hotel if you want to meet.’

  ‘Too public. I'm keeping a low profile from now on.’

  ‘Delaney wasn't.’

  ‘No one is worried about a senator meeting you and courting publicity. Oh, you'll be in a few of the papers in the morning, some gun range.’

  ‘Gettysburg.’

  ‘You brought a girl with you?’

  ‘Field agent, the one that saved your Nimitz. We're not an item, not least because she sleeps with suspects and cuts their cocks off for fun.’

  Tiny balled her fists and stood with those fists on her hips, but just managed to look sexy.

  ‘Ouch. Would be hard to get a good night's rest I'm thinking. My wife is a receptionist in a hospital, and has no idea what I do.’

  SIS called ten minutes later. ‘We've found some old links with this retired group captain, sent it up the line. GCHQ found nothing with his current phone nor trips made. He has a daug
hter in college in America, so he made a few trips there, being looked into now.’

  ‘What did he have access to?’

  ‘Not much as far as we can see, he was ATC most if his career, training staff for the final ten years.’

  ‘But he would have an ear to ground and know people...’

  ‘Yes, he was well placed in the MOD building.’

  In the morning the Secret Service brought us the papers, not least because I was all over them on the front page. The one had an image of me looking down the long cemetery road, “So many” in large letters.

  The other papers had me at the Gettysburg rifle range, holding a Valmet. Well at least the Valmet company in Finland would be pleased, more sales for them.

  We were soon in the vans and heading back to Langley, the coffee delivered with doughnuts, and I started again on the faces. After four hours and a lunch break I had not highlighted any further faces, the Deputy Chief pleased. We called a halt.

  ‘That lady you hit has cut a deal. She was reporting to the FBI, and she gave up one other. Her boss was not in the know, just ignorant, so he'll get some shit for it. And our dead Belgian turned up dead. We're running DNA and prints now, and trying to figure out just what the fuck was going on with him.

  ‘Someone replaced him after you killed him, but … he did a good job for us and never got access to anything, so … fuck knows why he was there.’

  ‘A link to Chevron in West Africa would be a safe bet. Sat waiting, observing your contracts. Anyway, I'll head back soon, before they start complaining in London that I'm having fun at the taxpayer’s expense.’

  On the way back to the hotel I called Colonel Mathews, and he would get me on a military flight to Fairford, Tiny booking a first class flight via New York. He would also explain to Admiral Kurkhold and General Boltweir that I had been recalled. We checked our bags carefully for bugs and bombs and kissed goodbye, soon heading in different directions.

  One of us headed for a comfy ride and some champagne, one of us for a C5. Waiting for the aircraft, I was inundated with officers heading to Europe. Still, it passed the time, and on the flight I pretended to sleep longer than I actually slept.

  At Fairford an RAF bus was waiting with MP escort, Graveson stood smiling, and I had an hour in the bus heading down to GL4 in the rain. Still, the rain always kept the assassins away.