Wilco- Lone Wolf 11

by Geoff Wolak

  I turned my head, Haines being tended. ‘He OK?’

  ‘Yeah, not hurt.’

  Several arms lifted me, and I was soon placed on my bed. The RAF Squadron Leader knelt next to me, looking concerned. ‘Still with us?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Just ... give me a week or two, and some Anadin.’

  ‘Bad start to this operation, I figured I’d take it easy and get a tan, now this.’

  ‘Stay sharp, sir, someone knows we’re here.’

  He left Morten and a nurse to tend me, the lads walking past, and I closed my eyes.

  It was dark when I woke, but an odd dark, almost a blue-grey. I turned my head and figured it was dawn. Easing up, my head throbbed so much I almost fainted.

  ‘Take it easy, sir,’ came a female voice as I closed my eyes, and hands guided me back down.

  ‘Why does my head hurt?’

  ‘Concussion, sir. We were not sure about moving you out, to Nairobi, Mister Morten will make a decision today. He said you would want to stay.’

  ‘I’m staying, I can lay here just as well as anywhere else. How’s Haines?’

  ‘Bit of a headache.’

  ‘What’s been happening?’

  ‘They bagged up the body parts, got part of a phone, bits of the bomb for analysis, Kenyan police here for hours, Army Bomb Disposal are still here.’

  I glanced at sleeping lads, a few awake and sat reading or eating. ‘I’ll just lay here like a good patient, but get me some water.’

  She handed me a water bottle, I eased up, and I drank half if it. Back down, I sighed and closed my eyes. I was not in any pain, none at all, save when I moved my head.

  I woke as it got fully light, men moving around quietly. Moran stepped over and knelt at my side. I told him, ‘Get them training, and watch the wire, eh.’

  ‘Half of “A” Squadron on the wire, I’ll sort the lads today.’

  ‘Don’t let them get stiff-legged, push them. If it’s safe to move around. How big was that bomb?’

  ‘Big, you were more than 200yards away. So if they had got it somewhere sensitive...’

  ‘We just fucking got here!’

  ‘I know, and it would take some planning, so someone leaked our movements, maybe the Kenyans.’

  ‘Fuck’s sake...’ I blew out.

  With Moran gone, Casper knelt. ‘You will live, eh?’

  ‘Just a headache.’

  ‘These boys, they know we are coming for them.’

  ‘Some do, yes. But these various groups don’t talk to each other.’

  He nodded. ‘You were nearly killed, I was nearly No.1.’

  I smiled widely. ‘You take over, I’ll have a rest.’

  Swifty came and sat on my bed. ‘Not the best of starts.’ He handed me chocolate Rolos.

  I eased up, my nurse propping up the kit used as pillows. ‘Someone leaked it, or someone wanted to know beforehand. You can wait good intel, or you can go look for it. And none of those kidnap boys are smart enough for this.’

  ‘So who is smart enough?’

  ‘Boys on the Ethiopian border maybe, but they’d not figure us going for them, not yet.’

  ‘Not this Aideed chap?’

  ‘No, definitely not.’

  My phone trilled, so Swifty grabbed it from my webbing. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Deputy Chief. Can you talk, I heard you were hurt?’

  ‘Laying in bed with a bad head, got blown off my feet. Someone leaked our movement here, probably a Kenyan in need of some money.’

  ‘Yeah, well there’s more bad news. Baker, he was shot dead last night in Nairobi.’

  ‘Christ. A mugging?’

  ‘No, a professional hit.’

  ‘They’d have no time to get in place, he only flew down yesterday. Do me a favour, sir, and get a list of everyone that worked with Baker when he was stationed here, and his contacts, and see where the overlap is with today, then look for a colleague with a grudge, someone’s wife getting fucked. This was no terrorist incident, they’re not that good, you give them too much credit. This will be a grudge from years ago.’

  ‘You should be working here with me. I’ll start the ball rolling.’

  ‘Get me a replacement. And tomorrow.’

  ‘On it.’ The call was cut.

  I faced Swifty. ‘Our American at GL4, Baker, was shot dead in Nairobi.’

  His eyes widened. ‘Shit ... and we get a bomb. Who the fuck we upset?’

  ‘Same paymaster that put a price on our heads a few weeks back, but he’s beyond reach. Fuckers on the border here are a disorganised rabble.’

  ‘Someone out there is well fucking organised!’

  I nodded. ‘Go see every group, message from me, further attack imminent.’ He stepped out as I lifted my phone and hit the numbers for GL4. MP Pete answered. ‘It’s Wilco -’

  ‘Heard you were hurt?’

  ‘A concussion. Listen, place the GL4 base on maximum alert, warn the local police, warn the Intel people, good chance of an attack there.’

  ‘From who?’

  ‘Can’t say, just be vigilant.’ Next call was SIS.

  ‘Duty Officer.’

  ‘It’s Wilco-’

  ‘Still alive?’

  ‘Just about. Send a message to the British garrison here in Kenya: terrorist attack very likely, all movements restricted, very careful moving men to the airport and back.’

  ‘OK, got that.’

  Next call was the Air Commodore.

  ‘Christ, Wilco, you had me worried. Got a report of a massive blast, unknown casualties! They said the dust cloud shrouded the entire base, so no one knew what happened for half an hour.’

  ‘Is it on the news?’

  ‘All over the TV news. Were a few worried faces yesterday, some loud words, I got little sleep. You know who’s behind it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And...’

  ‘Not on the phone.’

  ‘Oh. And you’ll go after them?’

  ‘The foot soldiers, yes, the paymaster ... no, he’s beyond reach.’

  ‘What the hell do you mean, beyond reach?’

  ‘He’s sat in Riyadh.’

  ‘Oh ... well ... that could be tricky, yes. Bloody hell.’

  ‘Keep that to yourself, sir.’

  ‘I understand the politics, we sell them a great many weapons and aircraft.’

  Max appeared, camera in hand. ‘What can I send out?’

  ‘Got no comments on the bomb, don’t know who yet,’ I told him. ‘Put it down as Somali gunmen on a lawless border.’

  Ten minutes later, and Ginger stepped in. He knelt near me. ‘You told me I would shot at on day one, not blown up, so your intel needs improving.’

  A few of the lads nearby laughed.

  I told him, ‘Mister Lancaster, in the days ahead you will face a threat of an unknown type...’

  ‘That covers everything I suppose, including a bad dose of the shits.’

  ‘Good experience for you.’

  ‘RAF lad told me ... never believe a word Wilco says, always assume something will explode!’

  The lads laughed.

  ‘Good advice. Now get some training in on the range, you have some catching up to do.’

  ‘Will I ... be on a live job?’

  ‘Unlikely, unless we’re here a while and I get reports that you move and shoot like the rest of them.’

  ‘Well then, I best get some practise in.’

  Swifty brought me some left-over goat meat and water, and I sat on the edge of the bed eating, chatting to the lads.

  ‘Where’re the studio people?’ I asked.

  ‘Over in the brick buildings with Captain Harris, well pissed off. MOD film unit, they filmed the panic and aftermath, happy with it – apparently they got some good footage.’

  I shook my head, but that hurt, so I made a mental note not to shake my head.

  Hunt came in and sat down after I finished my meal. ‘Still with us?’

  ‘Just need some A
nadin tablets.’

  ‘GCHQ are tracking phones, we got the chip code card of the sat phone. Any clues?’

  ‘Same paymaster as the last visit to Somalia.’

  Hunt stared back at me. ‘Makes it kind of hard to end this game when some of the key players are not even on the soccer pitch, and we’re not allowed to go after them!’

  I nodded. ‘We hit the foot soldiers, that’s all.’

  ‘Nothing we can do to ... piss-off the paymaster?’

  ‘Wipe out al-Qa’eda...’

  ‘They’re spread far and wide, and they hide a lot!’ he complained.

  ‘We do what we can, and ... I’ll try and think up a way of pissing him off.’

  ‘Petrov?’ he whispered.

  ‘May be a way, yes. That’s our ace in the hole.’

  Fishy appeared later. ‘Figured we’d take out a patrol, snoop around and see who’s snooping at us.’

  I considered that, and sent for Moran. ‘This is what I want. Three patrols, one every eight hours, they return within the eight hours. I want mixed patrols. A few Wolves, some regulars, they take a few Pathfinders, ten man patrols, nominate the senior man.

  ‘They go east, zig-zag, look for tracks, look for movement. Any armed men that are not farmers – shoot the fuckers from distance, no risks. For Echo, send out troops at a time, same deal, different direction. Make sure the other patrols have sat phones linked to Captain Harris, get Captain Harris stood behind a map.’

  Moran tasked Rocko with the first patrol before he went to chat to various groups, a ten man patrol made up and sent off. I sat back, waiting for my body chemistry to settle down, for my brain to shrink back to normal size, Sasha keeping me company.

  The Pathfinders captain, Lester, the reportedly gung-ho one, had taken the first patrol, a worry when I heard about it. He called me two hours after he had led his patrol through the wire, four Pathfinders, two Wolves, four regular SAS lads. I had to wonder about the bitching and whispered comments of the men in the patrol.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s Captain Lester, Pathfinders. We tracked a set of prints northeast towards the border, found an abandoned jeep.’

  ‘Don’t touch it, could be wired to blow.’

  ‘Figured that, yes, so had a nose inside without touching it, nothing of interest, no one around. Moving off east now.’

  ‘OK, good luck.’

  He was back on five minutes later. ‘The jeep blew, as we walked off.’

  ‘Anyone hurt?’ I panicked.

  ‘Just ears ringing, we were all three hundred yards away.’

  ‘You said you never touched it!’

  ‘We didn’t!’

  ‘Any wires?’

  ‘No, and no man with a remote detonator, it’s all flat as hell, nowhere to hide.’

  ‘Did you use your radio just before the blast?’

  ‘Ah, yes, we did.’

  ‘Turn off your radios now, batteries out, sat phone only. Go four hundred yards, dig down, hide, watch that jeep wreck, spread out in pairs, all round defence.’

  ‘See who comes out to play…’

  ‘If a large force turns up, report it, don’t shoot.’

  ‘Understood.’

  Off the phone, I sent for Fishy – who had not gone out on the first patrol. ‘I want jeeps set-up, manned and ready for a rescue, right now. Have a look at the map, see where the Pathfinders patrol is, get ready.’

  He rushed out.

  ‘Problems?’ Swifty asked.

  ‘Abandoned jeep, set to blow when someone used a radio nearby.’

  ‘That’s cheeky. These boys are getting clever.’

  I called Rocko. ‘It’s Wilco. Other patrol found an abandoned jeep, and when they used their radios it blew. Turn off all radios, batteries out, right now, and wherever you are – move position a mile on the double.’

  ‘OK, on it.’

  Captain Harris stepped in with Hunt half an hour later. Harris began, ‘Rescue teams set-up, and we have the Chinooks, map updated.’

  ‘We need to play them at their own game, somehow. Oh, you heard about Baker?’

  ‘Baker ... what?’ Hunt asked.

  ‘Shot dead in Nairobi.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Hunt let out. ‘Same group?’

  ‘No. My money is on a former colleague with a grudge, and I told them so. They’ll investigate.’

  The Squadron Leader stepped in. ‘Army on its way, a company or two. They were not scheduled, but they had little else to do.’

  ‘Problem is, sir, they’re not trained for this, so they might just get blown up.’

  ‘They’re Paras, 1 Para.’

  ‘In that case, maybe they’re switched on.’

  Harris noted, ‘They dropped in Liberia...’

  I nodded at him. My phone trilled. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Captain Lester. We have company, eight jeep convoy. They’ve stopped near the bomb wreck, say fifty yards away from it, four hundred yards from us.’

  ‘Can they get to you from cover?’

  ‘No chance.’

  ‘Then time it, allocate targets, and open up, but don’t go forwards, stay down and pick them off.’ Call cut, I faced an expectant group. ‘Eight jeep convoy at the car-bomb site, our patrol will shoot the fuckers, four hundred yards of flat land between them, but standby Chinooks and jeeps for casualties, notify the medics here.’

  Harris and the Squadron Leader stepped out.

  Hunt commented, ‘Wear them down?’

  ‘Wear the down,’ I repeated.

  ‘Got the rifles, Skipper,’ came from Mouri down the hut. ‘Wear them down by knocking these chaps heads clean off.’

  Smitty asked, ‘Do they have a base we can hit?’

  I replied, ‘No, they’re spread far and wide, most living in villages and towns. It’s not an army, hardly a militia, just lots of groups of idiots that are kind of working together some of the time.’

  Looking at Smitty, I had to wonder when his forearms and shoulders got bigger, and when he lost that innocence his face once portrayed; he now looked mean and tough.

  Keeping low, Captain Lester allocated pairs of men to jeeps in sequence, left to right, and gave the order to open fire, ten Valmets loudly discharging rounds on single shot, two being Elephant Guns.

  The Somalis dropped, a few getting to cover and firing back, but fifteen minutes of sniping resulted in no movement, Lester reporting the engagement.

  ‘Stay down, dig in, wait to see who comes out to play, report any large groups.’

  Easing up, I had the MPs drive me over to the command room, but to do so slowly, no sudden braking. I reported to the assembled team what Lester had done.

  ‘Why leave the patrol there?’ Hunt asked.

  ‘Because they would expect us to withdraw. To win here we need to do the unexpected. Right, do we have shovels and pickaxes?’

  ‘No idea,’ came back.

  ‘Try and find some,’ I nudged.

  Two Hercules set down an hour before sunset, 1 Para offloaded, a familiar Major striding over to me as I stood near the hangar.

  He smiled and we shook. ‘You’re having some problems here,’ he noted.

  ‘Your men ready for some action, sir?’

  ‘Hell yes. Been here six weeks, were winding down, so we’re well trained and fit.’

  ‘Form a line, follow me.’ And I could see that they had small Army shovels on their back webbing.

  We walked all the way to my camp, but turned right before my gate and to the single storey brick building. ‘Major, this is your HQ. East is a fence, beyond it is bandit country, bad boys wanting to shoot at us or plant bombs. On me.’

  I led them on and through the broken fence, on fifty yards. Turning, I shouted, ‘In your platoons, in pairs, dig slit trenches, ponchos up with twigs, get comfy. I want a line going north a thousand yards, pairs should be twenty yards apart.’

  Orders were shouted, pairs kneeling, kit off, shovels out as the line extended north. I walked the Ma
jor back to the brick building. ‘Get supplies each day, sir, but keep the men in place, bring pairs back for a leg stretch now and then at night, no movement during the day, move after dark, don’t shoot at our patrols. Make sure you have my phone number, same for Captain Harris in Intel.’

  His captains started to clean out a room, backpacks down.

  Back at my huts I had the RAF Regiment re-position away from 1 Para and I had the SAS all withdraw to their hut. Stood with Fishy I said, ‘1 Para are in a line east of us, so you can send out patrols whenever you like. Don’t shoot at dark shadows close in, be careful.’

  Fishy organised an eight-man patrol, which I sent southeast, to be back whenever they felt like it. In with the Wolves, I had an eight-man patrol made up, senior man and 2ic nominated, and they would tab due north ten miles, and would be back after dawn.

  ‘See anything, report it,’ I cautioned.

  Back in my hut, I updated the lads, and Moran would take out a patrol at dawn.

  At 10pm Rocko called in. ‘We have movement, long way off, but they have their lights on.’

  ‘You have long sights, what are they doing?’

  ‘Hang on.’ After thirty seconds came, ‘They’re setting up mortars or rockets-’

  ‘Get to them, on the double!’ I screamed. ‘Get close and shoot the fuckers!’ Phone down, I shouted, ‘Incoming!’ a mad scramble ensuing. Outside, I shouted, ‘Incoming! Mortars and rockets! Incoming!’

  Men ran to the sand banks, medics getting under beds. I called Harris. ‘Incoming! Mortars and rockets! Warn everyone!’

  I heard the whistle, three quick blasts near the Paras, so I ran that way, kneeling near the gate, the gate guards on their bellies as smoke and dust wafted. The brick building had been hit, so I ran in, getting to the room where I had seen the Para’s Major. ‘You lot OK, any wounded?’

  They laughed.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘Man was having a shit down that end, was rudely interrupted, not hurt. Ran out with his trousers down.’

  I shook my head, unseen in the dark. ‘Stay down, but we spotted the mortar crew and my men will deal with them. Your men dug in?’

  ‘If they’re not - they’ll be digging faster now!’ the Major quipped.

  I walked back, no additional mortars or missiles landing on the base.