ACV's 1 Operation Black Gold (4 page)

‘Jim!’

I sat back down and sent off Davies’s info.  Now it was a case of waiting.  The clerk had finished setting up the rest of the consoles and now the hall was emptying rapidly.  ‘How did you find that menu?’ he asked.

‘How much do you know about this system?’  I parried.

‘I’m a B one.’

‘Seriously and you don't know how to pull up that menu?’

‘I’ve worked with this system since it was introduced and I don’t know how to pull up that menu.’

I racked my brains as to why they knew none of this.  ‘Staff, what happens when you type in H.H. exit H.H. Return?’  His blank look gave me the answer he needed.  Nothing seemed to be happening so I asked him to clear a terminal, got him to log in and type it in.

‘Where did all this come from,’ he asked dumbfounded.  I didn’t answer that question, but I did show them how to use it.  ‘We’d better leave this until the development team has had a look at it.  We’ve enough crashed consoles to supply half the schools.’

‘Jim!’

I filed that comment away for further use and went back to Davie.  ‘What’s happening?  Let’s see.’  I plucked the messages out of the net and began to read them.

‘What are ye doing now?’  Asked the chief clerk, who’d rushed over, trying not to miss anything.  ‘You can’t do that,’ he almost squealed.

‘Will you stop telling me what I can or canna do.’  He was really beginning to get on my tits.

The chief’s face blanched.  ‘You’ve done it now, they’ve locked you out.’  The screen had gone blank with locked and a security message written on it.  I entered a 10 digit binary code and the screen came back on, traced the operator who locked me out and returned the compliment.  The chief clerk sat down with a thump.

‘Looks like you’ve got somebody on side, Davie, a General Harry Lamb.’  I punched up his credentials.  He had as much initials after his name as Davie, who leaned over my shoulder to read them.

‘Impressive, he must be their top neurosurgeon.’

‘Well he’s got a chopper fired up and confirmed Medic one to Brigaded.’

Brigade sent a reply and a prepared message came down our line from General Lamb.  ‘Flash 1 to Mr. David Whitton MD from General H Lamb MD, may I offer my assistance.  Am familiar with surgical procedure required.  Have anaesthetist standing by, can be at your location in 15 minutes, whirly bird on route my location now.  Will pick you up on route.  Eta.  Glasgow RI, 30-35 minutes.’

‘Brilliant, right Jim send this.  Assistance gratefully accepted, thank you.’

I sent it and logged out with a sigh.  ‘All yours sunshine here do this will ye.’  I threw down my green booklet; he logged back in and processed me.

‘Private Murison 34441844.’

‘Yep that’s me.’

‘Room 7 first block on the right as you come in the gates, do you still have your reservist kit?’

‘Nope, not a stitch.’

‘Any serious medical problems since you left the army?’

‘No.’

‘Present occupation?’

‘Taxi driver.’

‘Honest?’

‘Honest.’

‘That’s it.’  He declared ripping out pages and sticking them into their proper piles.

I turned to the Chief Clark, ‘Staff you can get somebody down from the guard to guide Mr. Whitton to the helipad.’

He nodded, ‘no problem.’

‘Fancy a cuppa and a sandwich while you are waiting for your escort Dr Whitton?’

‘Why not, I haven’t eaten Spam for years.’

We wondered off to the tea urns.  There was a moment’s strained silence.  Where to start, so much to say, no time to say it.

‘Where did you learn to do all that Jim, it was pretty impressive?’

‘Would you believe me?’

He shrugged, ‘you believed me.’

‘Well OK, it was pretty easy seeing as I wrote the fucking thing.’

He barked a disbelieving laugh.  ‘What, you’re joking?’

I scowled, ‘aye your right, I am joking.  In actual fact I’m really a brain surgeon.’

He gawped at me for a second then burst out laughing.  ‘Where?’

‘A year at college, then four at the University on programming in Elgin.  Whit, did ye think ye were the only bright bastard in the platoon.’ 

That brought forth another delightful bellow of laughter and started the small talk, rushing trying to cram ten years into a few short minutes.  All too soon, a member of the guard came crashing through the fire doors.  Davie signalled him to wait a moment.

‘Well time to go Jim.’

‘Aye, d’ye think you’ll come back here?’

‘Doubt it; they’ll probably put me into the RAMC.’

‘Aye, that would make sense; look here’s my phone number.  If ye get sent back to Edinburgh, give us a bell.  I’ll try and dig up some of the boys and we’ll hit the town.’

‘Sounds good to me, I’ll do that Jim and thanks again.’  We shook hands and Davie left.  I finished my tea and went looking for my accommodation.

CHAPTER 6

My body was racked with pain and the inside of my mouth was split in a few places.  A couple of ribs felt staved in and some bastard was taking a chunk out of my leg.  I leapt out of the pile of bodies with a scream of rage and whirled on my assailant who was half covered by other bodies. 

‘George, did you bite me.’

My only answer was a smug frustrating grin.  He knew fine well I wouldn’t extract an excruciating revenge until I was sure of my assailant.  In that tangle of bodies, it could have been anybody, but it wasn’t.  Now you can punch me, kick me, batter me with blunt a instrument and it doesn’t really bother me.  However, a nip, slap, bite, scratch or graze can fire me into a fighting rage in milliseconds.

I hobbled about in circles looking for something to vent it on when Davie McAllister wandered in the door with his kit.  Only the extremely stupid tried to take anything out on Davie.  He was looking a little bemused and a little resentful at having missed the fun.

The bodies were beginning to untangle when a bellow from the door interrupted our joyous reunion.  ‘What the fuck’s going on here.’  A nasty looking shit of a sergeant was standing in the doorway and I’d found an immediate outlet for my frustration.  Well it had been a bad day.

‘Why, what the fuck’s it got to do with you?’  I could have been asking for a tin of coke in newsagents, but inside, could feel the rage sing through my veins; my whole body was experiencing a power surge.  Now take a man who has the authority of the king and government behind him.  A man who’s used to having men run to do his bidding, as is his god given right, and talk to him in the same manner I did.  Well it’s a bit like getting kicked in the face with a wellie covered in shite.

I thought he was going to explode; he must have stood there for a full half minute imitating a cuttlefish.  Indeed the variety of colour changes his face undertook was impressive; I can even remember raising an eyebrow in admiration.  The sergeant wasn’t admiring anything though, and no doubt due to some superior military training he soon found his voice again and it was flowery to say the least. 

There are a few golden rules used by N.C.Ó.s in every army.  When in doubt:

1.  Swear a lot.

2.  Scream a lot, and if that doesn’t seem to be working,

3.  Swear even more,

4. Scream even louder.

Believe me this was textbook stuff.  I could feel my anger jump from man to man like a forest fire.  Who did this prick think he was shouting at, we weren’t young laddies to be intimidated or impressed by this type of verbal diarrhoea?  We were fully-grown mature adults who’d left this kind of bullshit behind us years ago.  We’d had to work hard to put the army’s blinkered type of mentality behind us and on the whole succeeded.  He advanced on me gesturing and bawling.

When he paused for a breath, I leaned forward from the waist.  ‘Fuck off.’ 

Buff appeared on my left, Gigs on my right, the others closed behind like a steel wall.  My spirits soared like an eagle.  I just made out Davie McAllister move off the locker he’d been leaning on.  Seconds later, he pounced; it was probably the remark about being brought up in DCU’s.  That did it.

‘David,’ I half shouted.  It stopped him just short of the spluttering sergeant, who took a hasty step back.  I wiped some stray spittle off my face.  ‘David, I believe this gentleman’s intoxicated, would you kindly see him off the premises.’

Davies’s answer was a slight smile that never reached his eyes.  He took up his bouncers pose in front of the unfortunate sergeant.  ‘Would you like to accompany me to the door, sir; the management believe you are a little too intoxicated for this establishment.’

‘You what!’  He was looking a little panicked but when Abie jumped across Buff and my shoulders and gave him one of his famous Moiré Impressions he damn near shat himself.  ‘You’re all fucking mad,’ he spluttered.

‘Now now Sir, if you go quietly you can always come back tomorrow, if not I’m afraid I’ll have to ban you.’

‘What, how fucking dare you?’  His face made a very satisfying splat as it hit the floor.  Lesson for today, never try and poke Davie, I though as he bundled the squealing man out the door.

‘Fit set Davie off’, asked George Chambers or Gigs as we called him.  His mischievous eyes twinkled behind the thick lenses of his glasses. 

‘Nay sure, probably that bit about the DCU’s that did it.’

‘Is that thon bairns unit a’ they perves were running?’  I frowned looking for malice but found none.

‘Aye the Disadvantaged Children’s Unit’s, Davie runs the one in Elgin.’

‘I’d heard he’d trained to be a social worker, but I never realised he was that far on.’

I took a quick skeck to see if he was on his way back.  ‘Aye well after that big scare a few years ago, the social work department in Elgin brought together a team of men and women who had never shown any interest or had ever applied to work with bairns,’ I kept checking over my shoulder.  I didn’t like talking behind his back but I thought it better to get this information into their heads fast. 

‘Listen, Davie was taken on as a normal worker on a six month trial.  By the time his six months had ran their course, his methods at rehabilitation and caring had proven that effective, he was running the show.’  The fire doors banged at the end of the corridor, he was on his way back.  ‘Those bairns are his whole life now, and he’s very fucking touchy about them OK.’

‘OK.’  A few nods and thumbs up, we must have all looked pretty guilty.

‘Whit have you lot been talking about?’  Davie asked suspiciously.

‘You,’ I admitted, there was no point in denying it, it was blatantly bloody obvious.

‘You’re not telling them anything good are ye?’

‘Nah’, I smiled ‘I’m not that good to any other cunt, why should you be any different.’

He burst out laughing and the tension eased.  The mood lightened.  It wasn’t long before the bite on my leg started to nip again, which brought my mind back to things on hand.  I caught Buff’s eye.  ‘Aright George, did ye or did ye no bite my fucking leg’

His answer was to give me the finger.  I grabbed him by the hand, twisted, then kicked his legs from beneath him; he hit the deck with a satisfying thump.  I bent over to return the compliment and a body crashed into me with a wild yell.  Oh well so much for the mature adult bit.

CHAPTER 7

Colonel Ivan Muckle was a mastiff of a man and though he was now an officer he still carried himself with the dignity of a Regimental Sergeant Major.  ‘Good morning Sir.’

‘Good morning Ivan.’  Brigadier D’Ord was the taller man but he was as strong as the Colonel.  These two men had served together for years.  Fate had deeply entwined their lives, and their friendship was rooted deeply in respect. 

‘I think I had better sit down sir.’

‘Oh!  Bad news, I thought the operation was going off without a hitch?’

‘That’s going well sir; it’s those bloody rogues of yours.’

The Brigadier nodded to a chair and Ivan pulled it up, checked the pleats in his kilt and sat down with a swish.

‘First things first Ivan, I heard there was a serious security breach last night, have they found the culprit yet.’

‘Well, no sir, but I have.  Do you remember Staff Greg from Glencourse?’

‘Yes the chief clerk.’

‘That’s him; he checked the man’s records and got in touch with me.  As soon as I heard who it was I sent him and the clerk involved away on a long errand and told them not to come back until at least lunchtime today.’

‘Why, who was it?’

‘Murison’

‘So he turned up.’

‘He didn’t half.’

‘There’s something very wrong here Ivan, are you sure you found all the records there were on him.’

‘Positive.’

‘He disappeared a year and a half after he leaves the army, then up he pops right out of the blue on the day he is recalled.’

‘Not only that sir, he pops up out of the blue and shows remarkable skills on a computer system he’s never seen before or should never have seen before.  I’ve also had General Pearson on the phone asking for him by name.’

‘Damn, what does he want?’

‘Requesting an interview with one of your men.’

The brigadier scowled, ‘doesn’t want to step on my toes eh, refuse the interview; I don’t want anyone near him until I’ve spoken to him myself.  Damn it, first Whitton, now Murison.’

‘Yes sir, I’ve already had General Lamb on the phone this morning screaming Whitton’s praises and demanding his transfer.’

‘I was sure I could slip him past Mr. Lamb too.  Never mind, come hell or high water this project’s going through.  I’ll deal with the General’s myself.  How is the little girl by the way?’

‘She’s still in intensive care, but looking good.’

‘Do you think Brigade funds will stretch to a few presents for her?’

‘I’ll see to it,’ Ivan grinned.

‘Good, anything else?’

‘I’ve hardly started yet.’  He gave the block sergeant’s description of the episode. He then went on to describe an episode in the cookhouse.  ‘It seems they objected to the all in stew being served to the masses.  When one of the cook sergeant’s decided he didn’t like their criticism of his culinary expertise, well he ended up wearing it.’

‘Was he burned badly?’

‘No sir he wasn’t injured it was cold, I believe that was their major criticism.’

‘It was cold?’

‘Yes sir.’  The Brigadiers face-hardened.  Ivan decided to plough on before he erupted.  ‘It seems they then decided to eat out and when they were ordered to book out they simply ignored the guard commander.  The Battalion Orderly Sergeant (BOS) was present and went after them with some of the guard.’

‘Were they armed?’

‘Yes sir, all new Standard Operational Procedures (SOP’s) are up and running.’

‘Did they arrest them?’

‘They tried but were threatened with physical violence and had ample amount of abuse hurled at them.  Things like ‘Oh that’s a very nice stick, whittle it yourself and so fucking shoot me then.’

‘Yes, yes, I’ve seen them reduce more than one man into a gibbering wreck.  Go on.’

  ‘Well due to lack of manpower the guard commander recalled the guard and decided to confront them when they returned’

‘Yes that makes sense; did he arrest them, then?’

‘No sir he was ordered not to.’

‘By whom?’

‘The BOS, it seems he bumped into a few others who had fell foul of them that day.  They got together and decided to dish out a little barrack room discipline.’

‘What, how dare they!’  The Brigadier was on his feet thumping the table.  ‘These men have been dragged from their homes and lives back into the army.  They don’t know it yet but they may have to fight, even give their lives for the defence of this country.  They should be being treated with the respect they deserve, not shouted and bawled at like recruits.  I will not tolerate any man under my command being treated in such a manner.  Whether it’s cold food or barrack room discipline, and you will have that signalled to all units immediately.’

‘Yes sir.’

Ivan scribbled on a pad while Mr. D’Ord sat back down and tried to compose himself.  When Ivan had finished taking notes, he asked for the rest of the story.  ‘Well sir, as I was saying some of the senior NCOs and a few of their wanna-bees decided to install a little discipline, well fifteen of them.’  He paused seeing the Brigadiers face begin to redden again and wondered how he was going to take this next bit.  He decided to fix his eyes on the paper in front of him and bash on.  ‘They visited the guard room first and picked up a few pick shafts.’

‘Was their violence?’

Ivan looked up from his report.  ‘Oh yes sir, I’d say that.’

The Brigadier scowled at his light manner and snapped another question.  ‘Where was the guard while all this was happening?’

‘The guard commander disobeyed orders from the BOS, and called out the guard by the time the roving pickets arrived the fight was over.  They rendered first aid and assisted the casualties to the infirmary.  Actually, they did a good job.  The guard commander has written a very detailed report on the whole evening’s events.’

‘So far you haven’t mentioned the duty officer, where may I ask was he while all this was taking place.’

‘He was escorting Mr. Lamb back from Glasgow at the time.  He never arrived back until it was over.’

‘I see.’  He sat back with a sigh.  ‘OK, so what’s the butcher’s bill?’

Ivan turned to a different page.  ‘Everyone of them was injured in some manner, broken noses, teeth missing, 3 with cracked ribs, two dislocated shoulders, a dislocated knee, one broken wrist, two with crushed testicles and one with a ruptured rectum.’

‘Good grief, what happened there?’

‘Oh I believe someone tried to “shove a pick ‘elf up his arse” Sir!’

‘This isn’t funny Colonel.’  The Brigadier snapped.  Ivan tried hard to remove the grin that was trying to take control of his face.  ‘Is that all?’

‘Apart from cuts, bruises and abrasions, that’s it.  Nothing considered too serious.’

‘Not to serious.’

‘Eh, no sir that’s about it.’

‘What about the sergeants are they all right?  God I’ll have every one of their tapes for this.’

‘The sergeant’s sir?’

‘Yes man the bloody sergeant’s, what condition are they in?’  The Brigadier fought to gain control of him-self again

‘Oh, that was the sergeant’s sir.’

‘Was it?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Oh.’  The cushion gave way with a whoosh as the Brigadier plonked himself back down.  An idea of why one of the sergeants had a ruptured rectum struck him.  ‘Ah.’  Ivan recognised the thought as it flashed across his face and hid a laugh with a cough.  It startled the Brigadier back to the present.  ‘Yes, right, well what kind of condition are they in’

Ivan shrugged helplessly.  ‘No one knows.  They barricaded themselves in and haven’t been seen since but judging by the laughter coming from inside the room, they can’t be all that bad.’

The brigadier sat back, ‘so, what happened next?’

‘Well not much the duty officer returned heard the story then checked the room allocations.  When he found you were directly responsible for allocating them to the same billet he took no further action-bar placing a guard on the door in case they requested medical assistance during the night and contacting me this morning.’  He watched the Brigadier nodding absentmindedly to himself deep in thought.  ‘I could get a squad of MP’s over there in 20 minutes.’

‘No.’

‘We’ll have to separate them at least sir.’

‘No’

Ivan was beginning to get a little agitated.  ‘But we can’t keep them together after this.’

‘No damn it, my worst fears were that they’d lost their fighting spirit and gone soft in civilian life.’

‘OK sir but what about discipline, they have shown absolutely no regard for it at all?’ 

‘They have self-discipline.  They will be working on their own, that is all they will need, you seem doubtful?’

‘Yes sir I am.’ 

‘You seem to forget we owe them a lot, maybe our lives, and maybe the lives of the rest of the Battalion.’

‘Maybe sir, nothing was ever proved.’  It was an old argument.

‘That’s right, nothing was ever proved, but the army fucked them over for it anyway.  If they did do it, then it was a monumental military achievement.  I am damned if I will leave that kind of talent to rot in a trench.  We’ll need that talent in the days to come, can’t you see that?’

Ivan gave in with a sigh.  ‘Yes sir, as usual you’re right but what if they never?’

The brigadier thought it over for a moment, ‘if it wasn’t them, then the mere suspicion destroyed their military carriers, they deserve a chance and I’m going to give them that chance.’  The Brigadier rummaged in his desk for his diary and flicked through it.  ‘I don’t think they’re going to be very receptive to being ordered around today.  Yes - that’s good, try and get a hold of my son for me; I think he is still at Glencourse today and get him to phone me will you.  It might be they will remember him – what?’

‘Oh sorry- I was just thinking back.  I’d love to find out what really happened that day.’  A smile cracked his face.

‘Yes, I’d give a year’s pay to pull up a sandbag and hear that one.’  The Brigadier answered with a conspiratorial grin.