Wilco- Lone Wolf - Book 3

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘So how do we beat him?’ Moran asked.

  I blew out. ‘We give him what he wants.’

  ‘Which ... is?’ Moran nudged.

  ‘An accident on that hill road to start, reporting fatalities, and this base empties out, we got back to the airfield, or someplace else.’

  ‘He’ll think we’ve quit,’ Rizzo suggested.

  Easing up, I took out my sat phone. ‘Take five.’ Outside, I called Bob.

  ‘How’s it going?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s a fuck-up waiting to happen,’ I told him.

  ‘How so?’ came a concerned voice.

  ‘Had a local man on our fence with a grenade five minutes after we got here, so the main man knows we’re here and coming for him. And he has seventy miles of tight mountain roads between us and him. We’re looking at a bad headline here, Bob.’

  ‘What ... what do you suggest?’

  ‘Get me a man with a camera, a local journalist that can be bribed, and find an old jeep or two that looks a bit like one of ours, down here, and soon.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘You won’t like it, but I’m going to convince him that a jeep went over the side, fatalities, and that we left.’

  ‘That ... could reach British papers,’ he cautioned.

  ‘By time it does you’ll deny any deaths. Find us another base, a safer one, or we’ll go back to the airfield. Some local fucker is selling our movements.’

  ‘They have an anti-terrorist police unit, I’ll put them on your fence but hidden, try and grab those watching you.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘Hang tight, be back in touch.’

  I went and found the Major, expressed my concerns and detailed the plan, and we discussed the counter-terrorism force.

  ‘Drive up that road being expected and you’ll lose men,’ he agreed. ‘We don’t need a fuck-up here.’

  Plan set, we settled down to some local training, the range made use of, teams running around the perimeter – but armed and wary, my lads all practising on the jeeps, lessons made up about maintenance, small gullies crossed very slowly across metal guides.

  The national counter-terrorism unit turned up the next day, and they looked the part in their sinister black uniforms. Some would patrol here, others on standby for local snatches.

  We returned to training, but I was called away at 3pm, two trucks arriving with two jeeps, not unlike our own open-topped jeeps. They did not have engines – or a current roadworthy license, but that was irrelevant, we would tow them. I sat down with the Major and Captain Moran and we made a sneaky plan, a cooperative journalist and photographer to arrive that evening.

  At 4am we were ready, and kitted out as if on a mission, and technically we were, the dark-skinned reporters in a car behind us. We set off out the gate and drove slowly through the dark, plenty of fuel on board, a police escort till we reached the hills some thirty miles away. Pressing on alone, the sun up now, we found a nice tight valley, no one around.

  The towed jeeps were cut loose, petrol cans placed in them, wood and plastic from the roadside added, and with fuses set - over they went, smashing down the rock face and into a ravine, bursting into flames on queue. The photographer took snaps as we drove off back to base, and he would take snaps after the fire had burnt down.

  Back at base, we found expectant faces, the Major waiting.

  ‘Well?’ he asked.

  ‘Six men dead, apparently,’ I quipped.

  ‘If that was the headline, be hell to pay.’

  I nodded. ‘Then let’s make sure that it’s not the headline, sir.’

  The following morning, and two things came to our attention. First, the counter-terrorism boys had caught someone and had “accidentally” tortured him to death, the man giving up a few names. Second, the local rag newspaper was running the story of six British soldiers killed, burnt out vehicles shown.

  We packed up as planned and drove back to the airfield, allotted a remote area but well within the perimeter, and we made sure to hide our jeeps in an old hangar under the care of Sergeant Crab. Dusty old hut’s grabbed – one even had a goat in it, we settled in, a new plan to form.

  Looking at the map long and hard, I needed a break and so walked outside, seeing a Hercules parked on the apron. My head nodded itself, I grabbed Moran and a jeep, and we drove around to the control tower. I found the Hercules pilots sat reading.

  ‘Got a minute?’ I asked them, two crews. I led them outside and to a quiet spot. We huddled. ‘We’ve been sold out since we got here, had a man with a grenade on our fence five minutes after we arrived, and the local police caught another.’

  ‘Are you aborting?’ they asked.

  ‘Would rather not. But ... how keen are you to assist, and get yourselves a medal?’

  ‘Assist ... how?’ they cautiously enquired.

  ‘Up beyond the target village is a long straight road, at least a mile or three. If we could put down on it, jeeps out, we’d stand a chance.’

  ‘Lose a bird damaged ... and there’ll be hell to pay,’ they cautioned. ‘We’d be in the Glass House.’

  ‘Then ... could you do a low-level fly-by today, take a look, make an assessment, and if it’s doable we go. I’ll get you permission from upon high.’

  They made faces and exchanged looks. ‘We could do the fly-by without a problem.’

  ‘Don’t discuss this with anyone, sir, not local, no one can be trusted, not even air traffic control.’

  ‘Recon - we’ll tell them, some area not close to where you’re going.’

  ‘You know the target villages?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have a look at the map, and the southern village. Northeast of it is a straight road about ten miles away, and it’s the only straight road. Have a look, and a verbal report to me only, please. And don’t fly over those target villages, go wide. See any vehicles, and circle.’

  They set off, and Moran and I drove back.

  Moran said, ‘We practised just this in the Paras, no big deal, those pilots have done it many times.’

  ‘Yes, it just depends on how suitable that road is.’

  ‘I’ve seen them land on a road before now, their wheel base is not wide,’ Moran insisted.

  I got a call into Bob on the sat phone, and he would sanction the Hercules, so long as the pilots agreed.

  At 2pm I told the lads to rest, they could be off tonight. A Hercules went up at 3pm, and when back down an hour later the pilot drove over to us. I met him outside with the Major.

  The pilot began, ‘Nice straight road, wide enough, no telegraph poles, no obstacles. But we want orders, because if we bend a plane we’ve had it.’

  ‘You’ll have them soon. My orders ... are that it’s a go only if you are happy.’

  ‘We practise this type of landing,’ he insisted.

  ‘Do you have night sights?’ I asked.

  ‘We do. You want us to attempt this in the dark?’

  ‘That or dawn, up to you, a matter of risk.’

  ‘If we get there – and it’s not clear – we’d go around till dawn.’

  ‘Go back, sir, wait the call. And thank you. And you’re flight plan will have to be ... vague at best.’

  With the pilot heading back, I called Bob and gave him a nudge, Bob promising a decision soon. That decision came an hour later, in the shape of a two-part test. My Major would have to be happy, the pilot happy, the pilots being contacted and given the same two –part test to satisfy.

  I drove over to them with the Major, a meeting held, and we were set to go, the pilots warning us that they might just abort and come back. Two jeeps only were loaded into a Hercules – reversed in, and we got some rest whilst fully kitted out, take-off to be 3am. These jeeps were fuelled, making me wonder about RAF rules on fuelled vehicles in the hold.

  At 2am I got everyone up, kit checked, tea made, weapons checked – more moths flittering about the hut lights. The plan was loose, in that we would drive
to the target area in two very overloaded jeeps, hide the jeeps and create OPs, and wait, little more. I had decided to take Elkin anyway because we needed the extra firepower.

  At 2.45am we drove slowly over in the remaining jeeps, piled high, and boarded the waiting Hercules, props already turning. I edged forwards and to the cockpit, placing on the spare headset.

  ‘What about air traffic control, sir?’

  ‘They don’t man it at night,’ he responded with a smirk, American night sights fitted to his helmet.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ I said with a smile.

  Ten minutes later, and with everything double-checked, we powered down the dark runway and off, expectant looks exchanged by the lads.

  Little more than twenty minutes later we circled, banked hard and circled – the lads looking worried, and we nosed down steeply, everyone hanging on tightly and expecting a sudden death.

  The bird levelled off, touched down smoothly with the ramp powering down, and had I waved the lads up, straps loosened and removed around the jeeps in a hurry, the crewman clearing them away for us. Sat aboard the jeeps before the plane came to a final halt, engines were started, and off we drove into the dark, each jeep with way more men that it was intended for.

  Easing to a halt a hundred yards down the road, we peered over shoulders as the Hercules roared into the dark night and banked steeply. It fell quiet as I waved Rizzo on, weapons being cocked ready.

  Our two-vehicle convoy drove slowly, no lights on, everyone alert and ready, and as the dawn came up we reached the area I was interested in, a road in a tight gorge between two villages I had noticed, tracks coming off it, a deep ravine on the right hand side.

  Turning left down that road, we would be scuppered if we met any oncoming traffic. Five minutes down that road, no traffic yet, I directed Rizzo off the road and up a track. When it grew steep we jumped off, Rizzo getting a low gear and climbing steadily, the second jeep following.

  Levelling off, we found a tight ravine and halted. This would have to do, and I sent Swifty and Stretch back down to cover any tracks as I took in the great view; I could see a mile of bending road each way, the villages just about visible in the distance. Getting out my sat phone, I called in our sitrep.

  Stag rotations were set up, a camp made under cammo netting as the sun put in an appearance, vehicles soon spotted below.

  An hour later, and two vehicles weighed down with armed men drove past, unaware that we were two hundred yards above them, a second pair of vehicles passing just about an hour later, so we were in the right spot.

  I sat with Batman and Robin as they made a brew, some handed to me, and we chatted about the pros and cons of various strategies here. With the day warming up I took Rizzo, Stretch and Swifty up the track and into the hills, reaching the crest.

  ‘Not much chance of a surprise from the rear,’ Swifty noted. ‘We’d see them a long way off.’

  ‘Yep,’ I agreed. ‘But how do we get them all bunched up on our terms?’

  ‘We let them know we’re here,’ Rizzo suggested. ‘They’d all come out to play.’

  ‘And they’d surround us, and snipe at us, and we’d get worn down,’ I responded.

  Swifty pointed. ‘That track leads back towards the road we came down, so it’s an escape route.’

  Walking back down, I said, ‘We only have one choice, we ambush them quietly and hide the vehicles and bodies.’

  ‘Let’s do that then,’ Rizzo enthused.

  Back down at the camp, I called everyone together. ‘OK, listen up, this is the plan – as far as the plan goes. Our orders ... are to kill as many of the fighters as we can, hopefully the main man, so that they stop attacking nice British-funded oil refineries. It’s no more complicated than that.

  ‘We’ve seen them use the road below, so far unhindered, so they think it’s still secure. When I say go, I want Rizzo and Stretch, Slider and Rocko down to the road. Find somewhere to hide, a good fire position, twenty yards up from the road. Your jobs ... will be to push any stopped vehicles over the edge of that ravine.

  ‘From up here we’ll spot the movements and open up on drivers and ... well, anyone in the back. If lucky, we get a few vehicles before they become suspicious of this road. Late tonight we relocate. Any questions?’

  ‘Straightforward enough,’ Rizzo commended.

  ‘OK, Rizzo, take your team down when ready. Captain Moran, you’re eyes on, so call it out. Rest of you, get ready to snipe at that road.’

  Rizzo led his team down, kicking up dust, the rest of us taking up positions, the day warm now.

  I glanced at Smurf. ‘Smurf, turn over, back against that rock, get comfy, watch the ridge behind us, we don’t need any surprises.’

  Smurf got comfy, adjusted his cap, and scanned the hills behind us, as well as the top of the track.

  Half an hour later, and our first customer came trundling along, one white jeep with just driver and passenger.

  Moran clicked on his radio. ‘Listen up, driver and passenger, no one in the back, but they’re armed, so shoot the fuckers. Wait till they’re in our one o’clock position. Standby.’

  I could see an obvious problem. ‘It’s Wilco. I want Swifty, Bateman and Robinson only to fire ... or it’ll be a waste of ammo. Standby.’ We waited as the jeep approached. ‘Swifty, your shot, rest join in. When you’re ready.’

  Peering down, I could see the jeep clearly as it approached, and a moment later a crack sounded out, quickly followed by two more, the windscreen shattered, the jeep speeding up – and going straight over the edge and down, out of sight.

  A cheer went up, the guys laughing.

  ‘Well, that makes it easier,’ I told Moran as he smirked back. I clicked on the radio. ‘Rizzo, you lazy fuck, that driver did your job for you!’

  Fifteen minutes passed, all of us warm as we waited, a nice breeze up on the ridge to keep us cool, then Moran spotted our next victims. Two jeeps came down the road the opposite way, the first having two fighters in the back, the second having none.

  I clicked on my radio. ‘It’s Wilco. Batman and Robin, second jeep, Swifty and the captain – first vehicle, Rizzo’s team get ready. Elkin ... go for the men in the back. Standby ... steady ... fire!’

  The cracks sounded out as I peered down, brass cartridges bouncing and tinkling off rocks, a windscreen seen shattering, soon the second one, a man in the back knocked down, his mate knocked clear out the jeep.

  The first jeep slowed, the second accelerated, and they bumped, both edging into the rocks and not the ravine.

  ‘Ceasefire! Rizzo, get to them!’

  We all eased up and observed as Rizzo’s team slid down the dusty slope and onto the road, sprinting down the road twenty yards and shooting every prone body to make sure. They pushed back one jeep, turned the wheel, eased it forwards and got behind it, a mighty shove and over it went.

  Body dragged, they slung a fighter over the side, soon attending the second jeep. They pushed it back five yards, yanked the wheel around and pushed, shoulders to it, this jeep not wanting to move very fast. It slipped over the ravine, its axle getting stuck. They placed down rifles and lifted the rear together, finally edging it over, running back to their hide.

  ‘Another vehicle coming,’ Moran called over the radio. ‘Get ready, wait the order.’ A minute later, and he added, ‘They look like civvies. Hold your fire.’

  Many eyes peered through telescopic lenses, and no weapons were observed in the jeep below, a man and a youth seen in that jeep. It passed unhindered.

  ‘That’s good anyhow,’ I told Moran. ‘They’d report the road clear,’ and I swigged my water.

  Twenty minutes later, and Moran sang out about a vehicle, this one clearly weighed down with fighters.

  I clicked on my radio. ‘OK, listen up. Batman and Robin, driver and passenger, everyone else - men in the back. Standby ... standby ... fire!’

  The men in the back were riddled with fire, two or three rounds each, two falling out as t
he jeep swerved every which way before speeding over the edge of the ravine and disappearing.

  ‘Rizzo, bodies!’ I called, and we peered down from our vantage point as the bodies were dragged, and dropped over the side.

  ‘Wilco, it’s Stretch, there’s fucking blood everywhere!’

  ‘Throw sand on it, lots of sand!’

  I watched with Moran as the four men below kicked sand out over the blood or threw sand onto certain areas.

  ‘Wilco!’ Elkin called. ‘The ravine!’

  We all looked, and could see smoke.

  ‘Shit!’ I let out, Moran glancing at me.

  ‘The next vehicle will see that and stop,’ he noted.

  ‘Bugger.’ I took a breath, and clicked on the radio. ‘Listen up, we have a problem, fire in the ravine. Next vehicle will approach cautiously, or report the smoke, so ... expect some action. Rizzo, make sure that you have a way out or a fallback position.’

  ‘We can climb up, some cover,’ he came back with.

  The smoke grew in volume, and it lazily rose up to our height, and it kept going.

  ‘That’s not good,’ Moran cautioned. ‘Any higher and they’ll see it in the damn villages.’

  I nodded, uneasy looks exchanged. ‘Company is coming.’

  ‘We got about fourteen so far,’ Moran noted. ‘Thins them out a little, and we have the high ground.’

  I turned my head. ‘Smurf, up that track on the double, on the ridge, call it out.’

  He scampered up the track.

  ‘Could they flank us?’ Moran asked.

  ‘Not really,’ I said. ‘But there could be goat tracks, and this is their back yard.’

  Ten minutes later, and Moran called out movement, three jeeps coming. A minute later, and they all appeared to have men in the back.

  I clicked on my radio. ‘Rizzo, your team, set automatic, make sure you have fresh magazines, spares out ready, it’s going to get rough; join in this fight. In fact, you start it when ready, when the lead vehicle is right on you. Standby.’

  I took out a fresh magazine and swapped, another placed down, Moran copying along with Swifty, and all too soon the convoy approached, and it slowed. We got ready, hunkered down, gripped our weapons, and we took aim as the three jeeps slowly approached the smoke.