Wilco- Lone Wolf 5

by Geoff Wolak

  He considered that. ‘Try and avoid a fight, hide, wait down the road.’ He handed me a sat phone. ‘Let me know if you think the Colombians have by-passed your men, we’ll need them to be back here in a hurry’

  ‘Could you get a helicopter quickly?’ I pressed.

  ‘There is one we could use if urgent. Call me, I’ll have it on standby.’

  ‘How will we recognise the Colombians?’ I asked.

  ‘The border guards will tell me, I’ll tell you; how many trucks, what colour.’ He raised a finger. ‘And to come that route, they paid off the fucking communists.’

  ‘Normal for the communists to take a cut of what moves thorough their territory,’ I said.

  Tomsk nodded. ‘I pay a cut sometimes. But they should have called me, sold me this information, these fucking mountain boys.’

  ‘Don’t sleep in the same place,’ I told Tomsk. ‘Keep moving around. The Colombians have deep pockets, someone will talk, trust only a few men, change plans at the last minute.’

  He nodded. ‘I was this careful a year ago, now I have many more men, plus you and your team.’

  I peered out at the new teams as they trained. ‘You can trust all these men?’

  ‘They are all recommended, all wanted criminals, and I am careful.’

  ‘But if someone offered a man out there a million dollars..?’

  He considered that. ‘Keep them up here for now.’

  ‘I prefer this place,’ I told him with a smile. ‘I like the jungle.’

  ‘I understand you better than you think,’ he said, wagging a finger. ‘You refuse money and nice villas, and you like this shit. You like to be busy, and challenged, you like a puzzle to solve.’

  I smiled. ‘Maybe. But I told you, in a past life I was a soldier, maybe at Stalingrad.’

  An hour later we were kitted out and ready, two trucks arriving and belching smoke, and we mounted up, the day hot, soon trundling east and growling in American-made trucks, our drivers being Panamanian Army sergeants who needed some extra money.

  It took just over the hour to reach the drop off point, a crossroads, and we waited for the traffic to disappear before clambering down and running for the tree line, radios on, earpieces in.

  ‘Form up, in your pairs, Team Two behind. And fingers off triggers.’

  With facemasks and gloves on we moved off, and I led them parallel to the road along a ridge, peering down for a good ambush spot. Having found a perfect ambush spot, plenty of escape routes and tall trees, I had the teams set-up camouflage flysheets and put down ponchos, and every second man would sleep a few hours, the afternoon damn hot.

  I settled down, Number Three being my wingman, and we got comfy, the road below observed, old trucks trundling along, a few buses, even a few donkeys trotting slowly past.

  A convoy of six jeeps stacked with gunmen caught our attention for a while, the men moving away from the border, but the biggest fright was a column of communists snaking along the opposite side of the valley to us, and then taking up position as if to ambush someone below.

  I called Tomsk. ‘It’s Petrov.’

  ‘Problem?’

  ‘Big fucking problem; there’re communists close to us, setting up an ambush on the road.’

  ‘Who for?’

  ‘Could they be waiting the Colombians?’ I asked.

  ‘No, definitely not, they have relations with the drug cartels. They must be waiting an Army patrol.’

  ‘If they hit the Army, the road will be blocked, soldiers will come out, the Colombians will turn back.’

  ‘Fuck.’ After a pause came, ‘How many communists?’

  ‘No more than thirty, we can take them, or at least scare them off, then we wait for the Colombians.’

  ‘Shit.’ After a pause came, ‘Do that, let me know if anything else happens.’

  Phone away, the sun dipping, I clicked on the radio. ‘Stand to, get ready.

  ‘Listen up: there are communists across the valley, here to ambush the Army, but if they do that it will close this road and we miss our target. So, get fire positions, and quick, before we lose the light. We’re in shade, they still have some light. Get ready.’

  I peered through my sights and found a few faces, men with red neckerchiefs seen getting ready, some with RPG and machineguns. ‘OK, when I fire, you fire. Team Two, aim for those on the far left and work in, Team One, start on the right and work left. Standby.’

  I took careful aim at the guy I figured was in charge, a simple three hundred yard shot with no wind, and I gently squeezed the trigger; a clanking reload felt through my cheekbone, a brass cartridge flying off high and right.

  The man went down, those around him rushing to his aid, and I hit three in the back as cracks echoed out around me. The communists had no idea where the firing was coming from, a few random bursts fired out, and after six minutes we could find no one to hit.

  Thirty minutes of observation provided no further targets as we lost the available light.

  I called Tomsk. ‘We killed the communists quietly, they hardly got a shot off.’

  ‘Good, good.’

  ‘There is one benefit to this.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘They may get the blame for the ambush of the Colombians.’

  Tomsk laughed loudly. ‘That would be good, yes. I’ll call you when I know about them.’

  Phone away, the lads returned to resting.

  At 1am my phone quietly trilled above the roar of the tree frogs, men nearby stirring. ‘Hello?’

  ‘We have the detail now; six trucks, two jeeps at the front, jeeps are blue – not that you can fucking see that in the dark. Shouldn’t be anyone else on that road at this fucking hour. Call me if something happens.’

  ‘OK, goodnight.’

  I wiped mud from my glove and clicked on the radio. ‘Listen up; six trucks, two jeeps at the front. Aim into the rear of the trucks, set automatic for the first magazine. Team One, last three trucks. Team Two, first two trucks, and the jeeps if you can. Standby, they should be here inside of twenty minutes, border is not far.’

  ‘We try and stop them?’ came a voice.

  ‘No, we aim to kill and wound a lot of them, they’ll turn around, we don’t risk lives with close-up fighting, no need.’ I swiped a large millipede from my telescopic sight and got ready, the animals of the night shrieking at us.

  Fifteen minutes later we could see headlights and hear the trucks above the steady background throb of the crickets and tree frogs, and seven sets of lights came into view, two jeeps at the front, so I was satisfied that we were not about to shoot up the wrong people – reasonably sure this was not a party of tourists.

  I took aim at the third truck with my left eye open, my telescopic sight of limited use at night, and I aimed at the truck’s canvas back, and at the unsuspecting men carried within.

  As it drew near I opened up, the rest of the team joining in, and I emptied my magazine into that third truck, panning right as it passed, swapping magazines as the road was blocked by a jeep swerving and rolling over.

  Onto my second magazine, I fired into the fourth truck, long controlled bursts, clicking empty, and I got through four magazines, finally calling a ceasefire.

  ‘Form up in teams, back out the way we came in, slow and quiet, and ... fingers off triggers.’

  As I pulled level with a burning jeep I glanced back, not seeing any movement, and I called Tomsk as we slowly progressed along the track.

  ‘Hello?’ came a sleepy voice.

  ‘It’s Petrov, job done.’

  ‘Done?’

  ‘All dead by the look of it, no one wounded on our side, they hardly got a shot off.’

  ‘Ah, you are a miracle worker.’

  ‘Get some sleep, we’ll walk back, good exercise.’

  The walk back went off well enough, two Army patrols avoided by darting into the trees, and we covered the sixteen miles in a good time, back after dawn, cool showers taken, food downed befo
re we hit our camp beds.

  I was awake at 2pm, and summoned, a jeep waiting, so I washed again and changed into civvy clothes, soon heading west with four of the villa guards, chatting about the night’s action.

  At the villa, Tomsk threw his arms in the air and loudly hailed me, a huge smile across his face. He gripped me by the shoulders. ‘The Army has been out to the scene, and the communists are getting the blame for attacking the wrong convoy. Brilliant – two birds with one stone. Come, come, have a drink.’

  Sat chatting on the terrace, I relaxed with a beer, then three beers, the day hot, but at 4pm we got a surprise, a surprise visitor, an unexpected government minister. Tomsk was suddenly very concerned, but welcomed the man in, our guest’s escort of soldiers taken out cold drinks. Big Sasha offered the minister cold lemonade after the man sat and faced myself and Tomsk.

  After sipping his lemonade, the minister began, ‘You speak English?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Some,’ Tomsk offered.

  ‘There are three reasons for my visit. First, we are under a great deal of pressure from the Americans and Interpol, since they believe you to be harbouring someone called Petrov.’ He focused on me. ‘I have seen the sketches, so I assume that you are Petrov.’

  ‘I am,’ I confirmed, Tomsk not looking happy with that revelation, but I had my suspicions about our minister. As a rule, government ministers did not pop down to chat to wanted men and drug dealers.

  ‘Second, you have moved on your rivals here, and are on your way to becoming the main force around here. You rivals have ... vanished, a lack of bodies found.’ He waited.

  ‘I am a world class sniper, special forces soldier. I have been training a team to ... deal with problems quietly.’

  Tomsk appeared to be having a heart attack, a quiet one, and he sipped his own lemonade.

  Our minister nodded. ‘And you now have a military camp in the jungle, training men?’

  ‘We do, minister,’ I confirmed. ‘And I am glad you are here, because we may have sought some sort of implied permission for what we would like to do next.’

  ‘Do next?’

  ‘We don’t like the communists much,’ I began. ‘They ... interfere in our business affairs, so we were going to send out patrols and ... kill the fuckers.’

  Our minister sipped his lemonade as he considered my words. ‘And you’d seek implied permission ... to do that?’ He again sipped his lemonade. Finally he made a face. ‘If you were to kill communists, we’d have no problem with that. In fact, we’d be quite grateful.’

  ‘Then perhaps, minister, in a certain sector you could pull back your soldiers, because we don’t wish to come across your men at night.’

  ‘We could do that.’

  ‘And ... drug runners in that sector?’ I nudged.

  ‘In that sector ... any man carrying a gun ... kill him.’

  ‘There are also the roads around here,’ I added. ‘They’re not very good. We were thinking of paying for them to be fixed, at our expense, through the town council of course, work for local men.’

  ‘An excellent idea.’

  ‘We also have in mind to give some money to the local schools, maybe computers for the kids. We wish ... good relations with the government.’

  ‘We will be happy for any such assistance.’

  ‘Minister, are there ... troublesome gangs in other parts of Panama that are beyond your reach, that maybe ... we could assist you with?’

  Tomsk stared at me, wide-eyed, and turned to the minister.

  ‘There are, now that I come to think of it. Any ... assistance, would be gratefully received.’

  ‘If you send us the details, we will see what we can do.’ I turned my head to Tomsk and he nodded. ‘Now, if we were to bring in more Russian soldiers, and train them, and hit the communists hard along the border, it would save you some money, and the lives of your young soldiers, and our men are under strict instructions never to risk firing on your men.’

  ‘I think, if you were to hit the communists like that, that my government would be most grateful.’

  ‘And pressure from the Americans?’ I nudged.

  ‘This is our country, not theirs,’ he angrily stated, a finger raised.

  I faced Tomsk. ‘Our guest must have used up much gasoline in coming here, so the least we could do is pay ... his expenses.’

  ‘Of course, where are my manners,’ Tomsk said with a smile, and opened a draw, several large wads handed over. ‘The taxpayers should not be at a loss when you come to visit us, and you are always welcome.’

  The minister stood, the wads bagged up. ‘I think we will work well together. And if there is anything you need...’

  ‘You have Huey helicopters, and pilots, that we could ... hire out?’ I risked.

  The minister shrugged. ‘Pay fuel, they’re yours.’ And off he went, Tomsk needing a stiff drink.

  He sat, and faced me. ‘What just happened?’ he puzzled.

  I smiled widely. ‘The government here gave you a blank cheque to do whatever the fuck you want, so long as we hit the communists and some gangs.’

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ he gasped. ‘They’ll cooperate.’

  ‘If we hit the communists, we can move across the border, have the border sewn up. If you have the border under your control, that’s a lot of money. The Americans say that border trade is worth three billion dollars a year.’

  Tomsk stared back, lowering his glass. ‘Three billion?’

  I nodded. ‘You’re going to be a very rich man.’

  Bob stared at his assistant, shook his head, and rushed off to see the Director.

  ‘Problem?’ the Director asked after Bob had barged in.

  Bob considered his words, smiled, then forced it away. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘Ah.’ The Director eased back.

  Bob explained, ‘The Panama Government is aware of his presence as Petrov, and are resisting all attempts by the Americans to do something about Petrov, to the point of telling the Americans to ... fuck off.’

  ‘They ... what?’ she puzzled.

  ‘The Panama Government is under the impression that Petrov is calling the shots, not Tomsk.’

  ‘Wilco has only been there two weeks! And he’s running the damn show?’

  ‘Yes, but that’s not the best bit. The Panama Government is cooperating directly with Petrov, to the point of supplying a military base and helicopters, and allowing Wilco to train ex-Russian soldiers as he did our lads.’

  The Director stood. ‘He’s what!’

  Bob smiled. ‘Under condition, from the Panama Government, that this little army hits the communists on the border, and wipes out Colombian drug gangs.’

  The Director stared back, her jaw on the floor. After a moment she smiled widely, shaking her head and starting to laugh. She closed on Bob as Bob stood. ‘Christ, this is huge. And the Americans will be vexed, pleased, horrified, concerned, and see an opportunity – all at the same time. You’ll need to brief the PM.’

  Bob was ushered in as the PM ate his lunch, a ten minute slot available. ‘Thank you for seeing me at such short notice, Prime Minister.’

  ‘They said it was important,’ he said without looking up.

  ‘It’s about Wilco.’

  The PM looked up. ‘Is he hurt?’

  ‘No, Prime Minister, he’s ... quite well. If I may start at the beginning: Wilco plays the role of a Russian gangster very well -’

  ‘And the Americans are very jealous of that fact.’

  ‘Indeed, Prime Minister. And ... after Wilco assisted you in Bogota recently we sent him undercover in Panama, and he succeeding in infiltrating a Russian gang that shipped weapons to the UK – hence our interest in them.’

  ‘Is he in danger?’

  ‘Not ... really.’

  The Prime Minister squinted at Bob. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Since Wilco joined that group, the group has ... done well, and ... moved aside many rival gangs very quickly.’
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br />   The PM’s eyes widened. ‘I really don’t want to know what moved aside means.’

  ‘Well, he ... assisted this group, and they’ve benefitted greatly in territory and ... funds.’ The PM glanced up as he ate. Bob continued, ‘Wilco has, it would seem, be ... training men in this group to fight.’

  The PM lowered his knife and fork, and stared back. And waited.

  ‘Wilco has been training ex-Russian soldiers how to operate ... like Echo Detachment.’ The PM’s mouth slid open. Bob continued, ‘They’ve all but wiped out the competition in southern Panama, which brought them to the attention of the authorities there, who ... got in touch with his group.’

  ‘Got in touch?’

  ‘A ministerial level meeting was held, with Wilco apparently ... chairing the meeting.’

  ‘Dear god.’

  ‘As a result of that meeting, a deal was struck with the Panama Government, wherein ... the government would not only leave this group alone, but supply bases and helicopters, in return for ... Wilco’s team hitting communists forces on the border.’

  ‘He’s ... fighting the communists?’

  ‘He is ... wiping them out in a hurry, Prime Minister.’

  The PM sipped his tea, staring ahead. ‘Doing something we’d not get any thanks for, although we and the Americans have assisted in that area in the past, but on the Colombian side.’

  ‘If Wilco’s group continues to grow, train, and carry on as they are, then his group will control the border drugs trade, all of it.’

  ‘That would make this group very rich, very powerful, and very damned dangerous.’

  ‘I think, Prime Minister, we need to trust Wilco’s judgement on this since he is, apparently, calling the shots.’

  ‘He’s taken charge?’

  ‘He’s taken charge of the element that is attacking the communists,’ Bob explained.

  ‘And wiping out rival drug gangs.’

  ‘Yes, and ... inside of three weeks Wilco has liberated close to three hundred million dollars for his new boss.’

  ‘If this gets out...’

  ‘Petrov will take the blame.’

  ‘Our undercover agents cannot go around shooting people.’