by Ian Redman
Vinke nodded his head. “My men will require answers,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.
“Your men do not require any answers Sergeant, and that’s final!” Again Piper’s voice was harsh, tense, “an officer from SHAPE Headquarters will debrief you all within the next forty-eight hours. That is all I am prepared to say.”
Vinke understood. There was nothing else to say, or do. If this incident was to be filed under Level One Security he thought, then it was now in senior military hands…not his!
With a guttural sigh, Piper turned and walked slowly to the edge of the canal, now tainted crimson red with a shattered body floating on its surface. “Red Haze to control, I am ready for retrieval.”
Colonel Mann’s voice could be heard clearly in reply. “Affirmative Red Haze, Raptor One is en route from Schiphol, e.t.a. approximately ten minutes. Your colleague will give you directions to join the chopper for extraction. The public will not be in the vicinity, we have made sure of that with the Police Authority.”
“Affirmative.”
Meanwhile, as Ash Piper listened intently to instructions from Nick Lucas, a lone figure in the nearby crowd of onlookers quickly retrieved a telephone number from his mobile phone. Briskly he started to walk back towards the inner city as he pressed the phone’s send button. Walking slowly on, Jochen Kreutz put the mobile to his right ear and waited for a response, then spoke. “It is my duty to inform you that Untersturmfuhrer Gerhard Maas has fallen in combat.”
The gruff voice on the other end of the phone replied, “I see, and the traitor?”
“Liquidated.”
“Good.”
Jochen continued, “Herr Obergrupperfuhrer, may I respectfully suggest our worst case scenario. The authorities may well have information which can be useful to them.”
“Agreed, stay on location. I will be in further contact. The Blood Order will be issued soon enough, of that I am certain. You have done well Untersturmfuhrer Kreutz. Our colleague will be remembered. The Dutch people will revere him as a hero when the war is over and they have come to their senses.”
The line closed quickly, Jochen deftly slipping the phone into his jacket pocket. If the Blood Order was to be issued he thought, the war would definitely be brought forward. So be it! The grenadiers were all in position, every one of them, all well trained…and ready to fight!
As Jochen Kreutz thought back to his days of training with Gerhard Maas, in a black BMW just ten minutes away from his luxurious home on the outskirts of Dusseldorf, Wilhelm Oratz gave thought to the conversation he must now have with his Fuhrer. He started to sweat. The Fuhrer would rage with anger today, of that he was certain. Slowly, apprehensively, he wiped a handkerchief over his face and down below the right hand collar line of his shirt. This damn birthmark he thought, it always itched when he sweated profusely!
9
THE KEY
The Sales Director and Board Member of Von Kurst Electronics felt tired, but elated. The business trip to Stuttgart had been of great use to the cause. The Fuhrer would be pleased with his report regarding the two new detachments of grenadiers and, as always, Standartenfuhrer Bescann’s training had been impeccable. As a former Director of France’s GIGN Special Forces Team, his knowledge and background to covert warfare, weapons and tactics never ceased to impress!
With a gentle turn of the leather-clad steering wheel, his journey nearly over, Wilhelm Oratz effortlessly pulled his black BMW into a tight bend. Soon he would be in the company of his best friends, his beloved Wotan and Wiki. How he relished the thought of their company once again.
But he also needed time; time to think!
Untersturmfuhrer Kreutz’s telephone call was disturbing. The traitor was dead, but what of the information the miserable wretch could have passed on? Casually, Oratz gazed for a second at his mobile phone resting on its ‘hands free’ stand. He must compose himself before he spoke with the Fuhrer he thought, his heart thumping, his birthmark beginning to itch once again as sweat enveloped his tired face. Yes, the Fuhrer would issue the Blood Order soon enough, of that he was certain! There could be no delay; the war must be brought forward! The grenadiers were already well placed to wreak havoc once again, but this time essentially, more simplistic targets across mainland Europe would be located…and destroyed.
As always, the European Muslim Freedom Fighters were to take the blame, but what of the date for the event in which he and the Fuhrer were so interested? He hoped it would soon be confirmed, for he was looking forward to his business trip to St Petersburg. It would be good to see Vitali again. He was certain the Fuhrer’s good friend would not let the cause down. After all, its success would be just as useful to him, as it was for the New Totenkopf.
The ridding of the Untermenschen was good for all of Europe.
Yes! All that was required regarding his forthcoming visit to St Petersburg was confirmation of the date…for the event!
There…another corner, and home! The two large gates opened silently as Oratz pressed a small button on his dashboard, the electronic window to his side slowly sliding down. “AH HA,” he shouted, “HAVE YOU MISSED ME, MY FRIENDS?”
Out they came, the two German Shepherd dogs, racing down the driveway, whining enthusiastically.
Their master had returned!
Wotan and Wiki, their large triangular ears pricked forward, jumped up at the BMW then ran swiftly up the drive. They barked, their tails whipping frenziedly in the standard canid gesture of joyous greeting. How he enjoyed being in their company, along with Siegfried, his butler, waiting for him at the large doorway. Apart from his beloved Fuhrer, Wilhelm Oratz required no other friends in his life, and especially…no women!
Assertively, Oratz stepped out of the BMW, the dogs running around him, whining then rolling submissively onto their backs. He eagerly bent down, ruffling their fur, talking to them gently, calmly. For a few moments, the worries of his impending phone call left him, for he had missed his friends. He always did. Then, slowly but surely, grim reality returned to the mind of Wilhelm Oratz. Hastily, he gathered his thoughts and walked towards the front door of his opulent house. “Good Morning Siegfried.”
“Good morning sir,” the neatly groomed, proud looking sixty four year old replied, “I trust your sales meetings were successful?”
“Very much so, business is good.” Oratz handed his great coat to Siegfried, who, as always, noticed the lack of a smile on his employer’s face.
Wilhelm Oratz never smiled. Never!
Slowly, seemingly graciously, Siegfried bowed his head. It was as if he was in the company of royalty, this showed respect and Oratz liked that. “Would you like breakfast in your office sir?”
Walking hurriedly into the main hall of his eight bedroomed, luxurious house, with Wotan and Wiki following close behind, Oratz replied bluntly, “yes, but not just yet Siegfried, I have a phone call to make. I will let you know when I am ready.”
“Of course sir.”
Climbing the grandiose marble staircase, with his two canid friends by his side, Oratz walked steadfastly toward his office. Nimbly, he punched a code into a small keyboard attached to the right hand side of the office door, turned the door handle and walked in. “Wotan, Wiki, STAY!” The dogs did as they were told.
Oratz was sweating again, causing his birthmark to itch incessantly. He knew only too well what was coming. The loss of Untersturmfuhrer Maas would hit the Fuhrer hard. Both he and Jochen Kreutz had become firm followers of the New Totenkopf and had become personel favourites with the Fuhrer, their deep hatred for the Untermenschen being of great value to the cause. They had also been impeccable members of staff at VKE. It was just over seven months ago when the Fuhrer had promoted the two young Germans. Along with Oratz himself, they had been important leaders in the recruitment drive for the grenadiers. Yes, he knew what was coming! Upon receiving the news he was to pass on, he knew the Fuhrer would rage. The one man who had changed his life so completely since their first meeting
at Dresden University of Technology, back in 1973, would not be able to contain his anger. Oratz shivered slightly, once again wiping a handkerchief over his face and across his overly large birthmark. He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. Not feeling particularly any cooler, he impatiently removed his tie and threw it onto his desk. Get the phone call over with first, he thought. Then he could relax, and pleasure himself.
“As Mister Oratz is away at present, may I personally congratulate all of you on your efforts over the last financial quarter. I am delighted with our worldwide sales, especially at this factory.” Otto Von Kurst slowly looked around the VKE Boardroom’s meeting table. All seven of his sales managers looked nervously on as he returned his gaze to the sales analysis sheets in front of him. “As you are all aware, the microchip sector is in deep recession at present, so to obtain a two percent increase on overall budget is acceptable, and, may I add, very positive. Well done to you all.”
“Thank you Mister Von Kurst.”
“Yes…thank you.” All seven managers voiced their appreciation to the Managing Director and Company Chairman of Von Kurst Electronics. He was in a good mood and that made them feel a little easier.
“Mister Von Kurst…”
“Yes Willi…” Otto Von Kurst smiled warmly at the tall, thirty eight year old man sitting to his right. Willi Bichter had been with VKE for just under two years and both he and his team of telesales staff were star performers in overall turnover.
“We are all greatly looking forward to the launch of the new SATChip,” Willi laughed slightly, “I know I speak on behalf of everyone here today when I say we are all thoroughly excited about the forthcoming cocktail evening.”
Von Kurst laughed heartily. He was not averse to sharing pleasantries with his staff.
“And so you should be, all of you! I am delighted you have all accepted the invitations to the party. I am sure our launch will be a major success.”
“The world of mobile telephones and PCs will certainly change, once the outside world knows of your wonderful invention Mister Von Kurst.” Christine Le Clerk, the newly arrived assistant sales manager, smiled charmingly, some would even say, affectionately.
“My dear Christine, flattery will get you everywhere.” More laughter.
Oh how I wish thought Christine, sighing under her breath, imagining the sheer sexual delight of hopefully, one day, ‘getting to know’ her handsome employer.
“The date for this…” Von Kurst paused, “…wonderful event,” further smiles beamed from everyone around the large, highly polished table, “will be confirmed within the next forty eight hours. Helga will send e-mail confirmations to all of you with further information. Now then…” Von Kurst took on a more sombre look, “let us not forget, the world of business is not just based on cocktail parties. Mister Oratz will be having individual meetings with all of you within the next few days, to discuss your plans for the launch of our new product.”
All of a sudden the room fell silent, the three women in the team looking cautiously across at each other. How they hated Wilhelm Oratz! Christine Le Clerk especially regarded him as a male chauvinist pig! Even the four men seemed uncomfortable at the mere mention of his name. Not a single member of staff at Von Kurst Electronics liked their Sales Director. In fact many of them were afraid of him.
Von Kurst continued, “Mister Oratz will then meet accordingly with sales management from our offices in Munich, Zurich and Rome, where he will be…” The ringing of Von Kurst’s mobile phone brought his oratory to an unexpected close, the word ‘ORATZ’ flashing on the facia panel. “Excuse me everyone.” With a cautious look in his eyes he pressed the receive button and raised the phone to his right ear. “Talk of the devil, good morning Wilhelm.”
“I need to speak to you, urgently!”
“Of course, I will ring you back.” Von Kurst’s voice showed no sign of emotion, but his close friend’s tone of voice was disconcerting. Something was wrong! “Well everyone, other matters need to be attended to. This meeting is closed. Help yourselves to coffee and biscuits and then let’s get back to work. We have money to make.”
For a minute or so the Boardroom became a hive of activity as papers, notepads and laptops were cleared away. The general feeling of the management team was very positive, apart from the news of their forthcoming meetings with Wilhelm Oratz. Slowly but surely the team vacated the Boardroom, leaving Otto Von Kurst on his own. Best to make this call in his office he thought, the hairs on the back of his neck swiftly becoming rigid.
“Siegfried …Coffee!”
“Yes sir, and your requirements for breakfast?”
“None at present. Leave the tray outside the office door. The dogs will not touch it!”
“Of course sir.”
Wilhelm Oratz replaced the internal handset and leaned back in his leather chair. He exhaled, a deep, long sigh, staring blankly at the ceiling then at his mobile phone lying on his desk. Any second now, he thought!
Sure enough, the call came through.
With his heartbeat thumping, Oratz wiped his hand across his forehead, removing more droplets of perspiration from his worried face. “My Fuhrer.” The phone was close to Oratz’s right ear as the Sales Director of Von Kurst Electronics awaited the first words from his closest friend and leader of the New Totenkopf.
“Your report, Wilhelm.”
“The traitor has been liquidated.”
“Good…and what else do you have to report?” Otto Von Kurst’s words were cold and calculating, it was as if he knew that something was amiss.
“We must assume my Fuhrer, that information has been given to the authorities.”
“Of course, this is why I planned the Blood Order.”
A hint of menace stifled the air around Oratz. He knew his leader was deep in thought. “My Fuhrer…” Oratz hesitated.
“Yes Wilhelm.” More menace!
“It is with deep regret, that I must inform you of the death of Untersturmfuhrer Gerhard Maas.” There was no reply. Oratz did not speak. Seconds ticked by. They seemed like minutes, even hours.
“I see.” Von Kurst’s tone of voice deepened.
“He died a hero to our cause, my Fuhrer, killing many Untermenschen before his demise.” Yet again…silence. Oratz knew in time of war casualties were to be accepted, they had to be. But the Fuhrer would feel this loss. He was perspiring again.
The voice on the other end of the mobile deepened further. “At least, due to the actions of our brave colleague, there is a little less filth to pollute our homelands Wilhelm. Untersturmfuhrer Maas will be remembered and honoured.”
“Of course my Fuhrer. For what it is worth, please accept my deepest sympathies.” Then, as if out of nowhere, there came a high pitched whining noise outside Oratz’s office door. It was Wotan and Wiki. The dogs knew! They knew the wolf would appear soon, they could sense the feeling of foreboding in their master.
“Rest for the time being Wilhelm, expect further contact later today.”
“Of course, my Fuhrer.” The line closed. Slightly shaking, Oratz replaced his mobile phone on the desk and scratched at his birthmark. Then he heard them, his two friends outside the door. This time…they were howling! Startled, a cold shiver snaked its way down Wilhelm Oratz’s spine as the internal phone rang! It was Siegfried, calling from the kitchen.
“Your coffee is ready sir, shall I bring it upstairs?”
“Yes Siegfried.”
The dogs continued to howl.
Helga Zeist gazed up from her keyboard and gasped as the phone on her desk began to ring. It had been well over a year since she had last picked up this particular handset and listened to the instructions from Mister Von Kurst. Instantly, a profound sense of foreboding invaded her mind, for this phone was to be used only when the Key was required. She had to move quickly! Worriedly, Helga picked up the handset, “Mister Von Kurst?”
“Helga, the Key.”
His voice was dangerously low. She did
not reply. Rising from her chair and rapidly replacing the handset, Otto Von Kurst’s secretary moved to a small safe embedded in the wall opposite. Fumbling with a set of keys she undid two locks and opened the small heavy door. Inside the safe was one object, the size of a credit card. She picked it up, closed the safe door, and left her office.
Take control Otto she thought, I am coming. The luscious carpet under her feet made soft ruffling sounds as Helga hurried down the corridor towards the office. Already, the neon sign above Von Kurst’s large office doors was switched on.
It read, ‘DO NOT DISTURB.’
Hurriedly, Helga walked past the doors whilst still holding the set of keys. She quickly unlocked a small flap built into the wall. Her breathing was heavy, her blouse damp with perspiration. She lifted the flap and placed the credit card sized object neatly into the slot beneath. Hold on Otto, she thought, keep calm, stay in control. Tears welled up into her eyes. Stop it, she thought, you must have control too, what if a member of staff saw you like this? Control yourself! But sometimes it was so difficult thought Helga, so difficult…to control her emotions. She still loved the man in the room next door, so very, very much.
The bolts always seemed so loud, jamming the sound proofed office’s thick oak reinforced doors together. The steel based, bullet proofed reinforced windows in the office too, all were being locked down, steadfastly secure. Now Helga’s ex lover could rage and no one could hear, or see, what she had witnessed all those years ago.
With a hint of sadness in her eyes, Helga’s thoughts returned to happier times, to a time before the arrival of Lana Franke, to the time of their affair, when she had loved the man now agonisingly writhing and transforming in his office.
It had been a time of sorrow and despairing heartbreak when Helga’s seemingly happy marriage had fallen apart. But at that time, her employer, Otto Von Kurst had understood. He had been so patient, so compassionate, so…loving. But she had been a fool, like a giddy little schoolgirl. She knew the affair would be a mistake, but it had happened and in some ways, she still had regrets. Or did she?