Wilco lone wolf 14, p.15
Wilco- Lone Wolf 14, page 15
part #14 of Wilco- Lone Wolf Series
I nodded. ‘Colonel Richards was never like that. Perhaps he should have been.’
‘Rawlson was tough with them, so I didn’t have to be the bad guy,’ he pointed out. ‘And Marsh has ordered those ex-members under two year orders to hand in pistols – or get a visit from the police. Are you in touch with the President of Guinea?’
‘No.’
‘No?’ he asked, wide-eyed.
‘Can’t trust the fucker. One whiff of this and he empties the banks and flies off with his family.’
‘And this is the clown we’re risking men for?’ he unhappily asked.
‘Yes, sir, just like the former president here. He took money, and they’re all crooked.’
‘And when you land on the lawn of the Presidential Palace..?’
I smiled. ‘Then the old boy might notice us, yes.’
‘And London has said nothing to him?’
‘I asked them not to, and I hope not, because we’ll only get one chance to hit the coup colonel. And some of the President’s closest aides must be taking to the coup colonel, money in the bank promised.’
‘Yes, would be a risk,’ he agreed. ‘Just damn odd that we don’t trust the guy we’re going there to protect!’
I checked our defences, just in case, a meandering stroll around the perimeter before I snatched two hours kip. Awake, my phone trilled as I sat in our room, Swifty getting a brew on, his Wolves out on patrol.
‘Hello?’ came a bass baritone voice, an African. ‘Major Vilco?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sergeant Tobo, sir.’
‘Your men in place?’
‘Yes, sir, but the President, he goes to the TV station and now there is shooting outside.’
‘Ah … shit.’ Swifty lifted his head, concerned. ‘Try and get close, see what the situation is, call me back every half an hour or if something happens.’ I stood, phone away. ‘Get everyone back here and ready to go!’
Downstairs, I shouted, ‘Recall all groups, get ready to deploy all men when the choppers get here, the coup just started!’ I stepped outside and called Admiral Jacobs. ‘Sir, coup has started early, I need those choppers, hold the Marines but have them ready to go, the President there could be dead in minutes, he’s trapped in the TV station and taking incoming fire.’
‘What’ll you do?’
‘Make it up as we go, might just turn around, sir. Get me the choppers!’
I called Captain Harris as men rushed past me. ‘It’s Wilco, and there’s fighting the city, Conakry, President is trapped in the TV station, fighting outside. Get me the Chinooks fuelled to go, and the French Pumas, fast as you can, and get London to watch the news from Guinea, we might get there too late.’
I hurriedly punched numbers as the Greenies started to form up, the French coming in, the American Wolves kitted ready, the Deltas forming up as a team.
‘Cabinet Office.’
‘It’s Wilco down in Sierra Leone. Get to the Prime Minister right away, the coup has started early, the President there trapped in the TV station building. I need a go signal confirmed, and what to do if the President is killed. Call me back fast.’ I hung up.
The Brigadier stepped out to me. ‘What’ll you do?’
‘Get a big team in, rooftops near the TV station, and if the President is still alive – and I can reach him – we’ll snipe at the soldiers and wear them down, then judge it as we go. I’ve asked the Prime Minister to confirm the go signal and what to do if the President is toast already.’
‘Christ, what a situation,’ he complained. ‘Big operation like this takes planning, and here we are winging it.’
‘The world’s bad boys don’t wait for us to get ready, sir, we work to their timetable. Can you keep the JIC wankers in there quiet?’
‘If the Prime Minister doesn’t object, fuck all they can do. They work for him!’
I called Moran and told him to double time it back, same for Rizzo up the Druggy Village come Dead Village. Ten minutes later I was notified of Chinooks on the way, Pumas on a job in Liberia – which pissed me off; they should have been available to me. Then the drone of a Hercules could be heard, and we all peered up and around.
It lined up just as the Chinooks appeared, and set down, the Chinooks banking away and landing near the tents, a few nervous men and officers expecting a collision.
‘Fucking knobbers!’ I let out with a sigh.
Out from the Hercules came “B” Squadron from Kenya, looking like all of them. I waved them over, then ran to the Chinooks. Up the ramp, I ran down to the cockpit, knelt, spare headsets on. ‘Listen, there’s a coup in Guinea, job we’re all here for but you might not have been briefed -’
The pilot craned his head around in his large green helmet. ‘London told us to pick-out landing sites in Conakry on the quiet.’
‘Good, then when loaded we’re heading for the city centre and the TV station, you drop us on a roof.’
‘A roof?’
‘Any roof, hover and go, got no choice. Move to the strip, I’ll sort teams, waiting the Prime Minister.’
Back outside, men being formed into teams and units, kit being checked, I shouted at the Greenie Major, ‘Wait for the second wave of helos, bring your men in when I have a landing site. President is pinned down in the TV station, centre of the city, under fire, we’re going to take a look, might just come back. Be ready please.’
The Chinooks slid forwards to the strip and spun around, arse end pointed at the teams. I had half of Echo available, the veteran British Wolves, a platoon of French, and the mixed British and American Wolf recruits.
‘Listen up,’ I shouted over the drone of the Chinooks. ‘The coup has started early up in Guinea, no time to piss about, the President there is trapped in the TV station, so we’re moving a small force to rooftops nearby to snipe at the rebels.
‘Echo men, the first Chinook. Go!’ They ran forwards and on. ‘Veteran Wolves with them, one French troop.’ The Wolves and a French team ran aboard, hard to tell them apart, they all had the same kit and rifles, 1st Battalion having adopted the Valmet.
‘American Wolves and instructors, second Chinook, get aboard!’ They ran in, weapons made safe, Crab and Duffy the last in. ‘Rest of you, wait my call, talk to the Brigadier here, Captain Moran is on his way back. Castille, hang tight.’
I ran aboard the first Chinook, an urgent thumbs-up take-off signal at the crewman, and we slid down the strip gaining speed, the nose up, the arse end up even higher, a hard bank around. I moved forwards to the flight deck and got the headsets on. ‘Listen, fly out to sea a mile and then north, avoid being seen, avoid towns and villages.’
‘Best way, easy to navigate,’ came back, and we were soon glimpsing the distant ocean.
I moved back. With me was Swifty on the left with his Wolves, eleven of them. On the right was Slider and Ginger, Henri, Sambo and Swan, Nicholson and Tomo, Mouri and Dicky, Parker and Greenie, plus two of Robby’s lads, behind them the French platoon.
I had to wander about Parker being here, and I worried some, even more than I was already worried. This was a fuck-up waiting to happen, but we had orders: keep the idiot President in office.
Sat down, a look at the faces as they held rifles upright, Greenie lifted a bag for me to see, then took out a grenade. I nodded, a thumbs-up given. Kneeling in front of Henri I shouted in his ear for five minutes before he moved along to shout in French ears.
Time dragged on as our ride vibrated, and many of the lads looked bored, few looked worried, the French looking concerned yet alert.
Checking my watch, half an hour having passed, I went forwards and got the headsets on as we sped past a ship, the vibrations coming up through my knee. ‘How we looking?’
‘Nearly there, that’s it ahead.’
‘Come up the middle of the city, roughly a north easterly track, look for a tall TV station, aerials on top, then find a flat roof as close as possible and set us down. Tell the trailing Chinook to set down on a different roof to ours, close as possible to the TV station.
‘Then, when you fly off, circle the city at over a thousand feet, and fast, look out for army trucks, report it back to us. Buzz the airport and have a look, same for the bird behind us.’
They contacted the trailing Chinook as I took in the small islands ahead off to the left, and we soon banked right, a dock seen on the left with tall cranes to tend the waiting ships, soon houses and buildings, mostly single storey, then taller buildings, then the choke point - a road at its centre, and now the city loomed large, dull grey and white apartment blocks – and they all seemed to have laundry drying on their roofs.
‘If there’s laundry on a roof, knock it down and set us down, don’t piss about.’
They exchanged looks, worried looks.
A minute later the co-pilot pointed. ‘That it?’
‘Must be. And there, off to the left, big fucking flat roof.’
‘It has clothes lines.’
‘Find a clear spot,’ I insisted, straining to study the busy streets below, those nearest the TV station. I glimpsed green army trucks in a few places. Back in the rear I signalled one-minute, men up and ready - but holding on tightly.
Nose up, flaring, we banked left, rolled over and levelled off, several fat local ladies seen rushing away as their nice clean laundry blew off the building, and we bumped down on light grey concrete cut into squares and seeming joined by black tar. I was last out, a thumbs-up to the crewmen for him to take off sharpish, the teams kneeling either at the wall or near a stairwell.
I ran forwards – stepping on someone’s nice clean laundry, and to the side of the wall that would afford us a view of the street that lay between us and the TV station, but as I drew level with the access door – a fat housewife running into it, wide-eyed black soldiers appeared, the roar of the second Chinook in our ears as it set down some three hundred yards away on another apartment block – clothes flying off in all directions.
I fired four rounds from the hip at startled faces, suddenly a roar of fire from behind me, the soldiers in the entrance hit a dozen times. I stepped in and aimed down, pumping out rounds before slamming my back to the wall. ‘Grenades here!’
Greenie ran in with his bag, but Ginger had one in hand ready, pin pulled, and it clattered down the stairs, a loud echoing blast as we ducked away. Greenie started to throw, and he threw three in quick succession. Upright, Greenie ran in, aimed down and pumped out loud echoing rounds.
‘Ginger, Dicky, Mouri, kill any black soldiers in that stairwell, that’s our escape route!’ I ran to the wall and peered over the side, now in the shadow of the TV station, kicking away on old rusted paint can.
This block of apartments was five storeys high, granting me a good view of the action below, most of the buildings around here a similar height, one or two taller and appearing to have been well finished for their richer inhabitants. I had a view out over the water in either direction, ships seen.
Around the main entrance to the TV building lay bodies and wounded men, soldiers behind cars and loudly firing outwards with old FN SLRs. I glanced left and right, and two hundred yards either way sat green army trucks, men out and behind cars – and firing this way. And there were dead civvies on the road below, including women, cars parked at odd angles and abandoned.
I clicked on my radio and quickly took in the skyline - and those buildings around us. ‘Listen up, this is the TV station in front of us, loyal soldiers below getting pasted, rebel soldiers left and right 200yards out. Kill the rebel soldiers, and fast!’
Off the radio I shouted, ‘Tomo, Swan, Nicholson, scan every rooftop where someone could shoot at us, and double fast!’ I lifted up and peered to the south, seeing movement. ‘Sergeant Crab, you hear me?’
‘We heard what you transmitted, sniping down now.’
‘Good man. Check the stairwell, four men down it, secure it. Wilco out.’
With my phone trilling I sat with my back to the wall, Tomo stood blasting at someone on a nearby building with his Elephant Gun as I studied a huge bra left lying, 38DD at least. ‘Wilco.’
‘It’s Admiral Jacobs. Couldn’t reach you, helos on the deck sat waiting at your jungle base. Where’d we send them?’
‘I’d say the airport, to secure it, but have them buzz it first to see if the airport is empty of soldiers. Alternate LZ is west of the Presidential Palace, but the President is up here in the TV station with me, hopefully still alive.’
‘OK, airport it is.’
Call ended, it trilled straight away. ‘Wilco, Chief Cabinet Secretary … is that gunfire?’
‘Yes, but OK to talk.’
‘Putting you through to the COBRA meeting room.’
‘Major Wilco, this is the Prime Minister.’
‘Go ahead, sir.’
Rounds blasted out from three Elephant Guns.
‘Where the heck are you?’
‘We inserted to a rooftop opposite the TV station in the capital of Guinea, and the President is supposed to be trapped inside. His loyal men are outside, still fighting, so I guess the old guy is still alive.’
‘I just had him on the phone, and yes – trapped inside. I would have given you the go ahead but they couldn’t reach you. What do you have planned for his timely escape?’
‘We’ll kill all the rebels, sir, that’s the only way, at least their officers. Without those officers the men go back to barracks.’
‘For a time at least. Puzzles me how the President could trust them afterwards.’
‘This is Africa, sir, an odd set-up.’
‘Very odd. Well call if you need anything, I understand that there are more men on the way, and the Americans.’
‘Yes, sir, but too early to call it. Wilco out.’
Phone down, I saw Slider empty a magazine on automatic and I moved over to him, peeking over the edge.
He reported, ‘Truck full of men, now a bit dead and wounded. We’ve hit loads of the fuckers; they can’t figure us up here yet.’
‘They will in time, and they have six thousand men,’ I cautioned.
‘Good job we have Tomo with us then,’ he quipped.
A drone, and I looked up to see the Chinook circling, the second coming in. ‘Chinook for Wilco. Receiving over?’
‘Wilco, Chinook, go ahead.’
‘Airport is clear of soldiers, but they’re massed up the road from the airport, fifty trucks in a long line. Can’t see many green trucks around the city, and we buzzed the Presidential Palace and it’s quiet, not much south of you. Chinook out, departing now.’
They dropped their noses and sped out to sea and southeast as I observed their silhouettes diminish, the rate of out-going firing having eased. But I heard rounds cracking overhead, in-coming fire.
Swifty jogged over, the roof two hundred yards long. Knelt on someone’s red shirt, he began, ‘Fuck all left to shoot at now, some ran off.’
‘You heard that Chinook report?’
‘Yeah, so how long to drive down here?’
‘An hour I’d say, if they’re moving. But if they get reports about us here they may change things, try and flank us.’
‘We could get to the choke point.’
‘Two miles of narrow streets full of civvies,’ I cautioned, a glance south.
‘Civvies are all indoors, streets are empty,’ Swifty reported. ‘They ain’t shopping with the sound of gunfire in their ears.’
I nodded, a glance over my shoulder at the TV station. ‘We could get the President out, get to the choke point, but that leaves the interloper to broadcast what he likes and to hold most of the city, the important parts of the city, while we protect a small area. And if the President can’t get out into the city he’s a lame duck.’
Swifty lifted up a kids t-shirt. ‘So what you thinking?’
‘Too many men here for one roof, so they go two streets over, same deal, split the Wolf recruits, twenty men on a roof, and when the next group of men come in we grab four more rooftops, east and west.’
‘They won’t be able to pass us, city cut in half,’ Swifty noted with a keen nod. ‘But if we don’t get the main man, how long do we stay here?’
‘We can get helos to these roofs, so I’m not worried about re-supply and wounded yet, and the Greenies will move on the airport. That leaves the US Marines, and where to drop them.’
Swifty wiped his brow with the kid’s t-shirt and tossed it away. ‘Airport is the weak spot, but if we have the airport and half the city, TV station here, that colonel is sat playing cards with fuck all to do.’
I agreed with a nod. ‘It’s half a plan. Take your Wolves down the stairwell - couple of lads already in it, a few streets west and up. Call if there’s trouble or wounded.’
He jogged off to get his Wolves.
‘Slider,’ I called, and he turned and knelt. ‘We’ll hold this roof with the French, Swifty and the Veteran Wolves will get another roof.’
He nodded, and started moving men around. I stood tall. ‘Sergeant Crab, you hear me?’
‘Go ahead, Boss, fuck all left to shoot at.’
‘Split your men in two, second team goes east a few streets, find a new roof, same deal. They move in pairs, heads down, no risks.’
‘Sort it now, Boss.’
Nicholson, knelt at the wall, blasted out.
I walked over to him, my head low. ‘What you aiming at?’
He turned. ‘Good eight hundred yards out, small patrol, officer in charge, now a bit dead, wounded the man behind him.’
‘Good work, keep at it.’
My Phone trilled.
‘Major Vilco, it is Sergeant Tobo here on the telephone.’
I smiled widely. ‘Go ahead.’
‘You are up on the roof, sir?’
‘Yes, and we killed the men attacking the President, so far at least.’
‘From you, north five blocks and on the west coastal highway come the soldiers, sir.’
‘Does that road go all the way down to the Presidential Palace?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘OK, thanks, keep the reports coming.’ I jogged west and had a look, the road visible, and I studied the street layout; it all appeared to be uniform squares. The road was a thousand yards out, my view cluttered with a myriad of clothes lines. I clicked on my radio. ‘Swifty, you hear me?’
