by Ian Redman
Falck nodded, “we understand my Fuhrer.”
“Good! I will ring you first Jurgen, the codeword is…PREPARE! Simple as that!” Again Falck nodded in compliance, “as soon as you have received my call, allow exactly one minute before making the hits. This will give me enough time to ring Fritz. You must both strike together…quickly.”
“My Fuhrer, it will not be so easy when the time comes for the kill. The ones who follow you, they are obviously working with the lone one, part of the same team who threaten our plans! The cars they use, they will most probably be armoured.” Von Kurst nodded his head, listening intently. Falck’s comment wasn’t a question; it was a statement, of hard fact. “We dare not make any type of assault whilst our prey are sat in their vehicles. Our timing must be precise, when they are all out in the open.” Falck turned his gaze to Kempler, their eyes meeting in confident, justified agreement.
“As always, the thorough professional, my dear Jurgen!” Von Kurst leaned forward, his voice now seething with dire hatred, “tomorrow evening the ones who follow Wilhelm and I will definitely move to assist the lone one, of that I am certain. When you receive my call, we will be making ready to capture him. As soon as his wretched colleagues leave their confines of safety, make your moves, and quickly!”
“Head shots!” Kempler interrupted, “we must take them with head shots!”
“Agreed,” Falck returned his gaze to his leader, “we will not fail you, my Fuhrer.”
“I know,” replied Von Kurst, “once the pathetic filth who dare insult my intelligence are liquidated, you will become Were again and stealthily leave Dusseldorf. Helga and I will then track and join you on the southern side of the city, within the early hours of Friday morning.”
A look of extreme excitement now raced across both Waffen SS men’s hardened faces. “My Fuhrer,” Kempler’s voice could not conceal the fact that adrenaline was starting to pour through his veins; “you are joining us…for the hunt?”
It was a thoroughly evil leer that snaked its way across Von Kurst’s face, “oh yes Fritz, the four of us will hunt, like the Were have never hunted before. As of Friday, when the lone one begins his long journey of pain and suffering, the likes of which he could never imagine, other humans will also suffer…that I promise you!”
Ash Piper splashed cold water over his face and gazed into the mirror over the washbasin. These damned headaches, he thought, I feel like shit! With his nostrils twitching, sensing the pungent smell of stale air and his own body odour, he walked across his room and sat back on his bed. He looked at his watch. It was 12.42 p.m. He shook his head, opened a bottle of Paracetomol and emptied two into his hand, washing them down quickly with a glass of water. He sighed. His head felt like it was going to explode. Should I see the medics again, he thought? No, if this got back to the Colonel he would put a hold on tomorrow night’s infiltration of the cocktail evening. No, just go with it!
Slowly, Piper rose from his bed and began dressing. The final briefing with Commander Hertschell and the Colonel was at 13.00 hours. He smiled. Thank fuck the Colonel has allowed me to stay over in Dusseldorf he thought, at least I can get a good night’s sleep, in a decent hotel. He opened his suitcase and gazed down at its contents, which included a smart, professionally folded, dark blue business suit. Suddenly, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stiffen. Not a great deal, but just enough to alert his lupine senses. The wolf was talking to him again, telling him something…warning him! Yes he thought, he needed a contingency plan for tomorrow night, a lone plan of attack and defence…just in case!
“Now Helga, if you please.”
“Of course.” Helga Zeist walked nimbly across Otto Von Kurst’s office and opened a filing cabinet. She pulled out a large polythene bag and brought it back to where they were all sitting.
“Gentlemen,” continued Von Kurst, “these are raincoats for you to wear, along with two shoulder holsters. As you can see, the raincoats are black, to assist with both your own and your weaponry’s concealment. Now, the…” Von Kurst paused for a moment, “…clothing you are currently wearing, is it comfortable?” Falck and Kempler looked at each other and nodded.
“Comfortable enough for our requirements my Fuhrer, after all, we will not be in human form for very long, so it is if no great concern.”
“What about your shoes?” asked Helga, “are they comfortable?”
“Fine, Herr Fraulein Zeist! We have adapted. They will do,” replied Kempler. Helga nodded.
“Excellent…” Von Kurst opened another drawer in his desk and produced a large bundle of Euros, “help yourselves to cash. It may come in handy, especially for you Fritz, being at the airport.” Kempler nodded in agreement. “Now, Helga will organise food for you from our canteen. Eat heartily my friends! Jurgen, when I leave the office later, follow me, but at a distance. I am sure you will soon sense your prey. Take the black BMW; it is parked next to mine.” Another set of car keys was produced and passed to Falck, “once you have both located the scum who follow Wilhelm and I, stay with them at all times.” Von Kurst stood up, his face full of pride and excitement, “remember my friends, I am relying on your tried and tested skills. Do not fail me, and…good hunting!”
It was 13.32 hours and Ash Piper was sat bolt upright in front of Commander Hertschell and Colonel Mann. “We’ll be with you every inch of the way Ash, you can depend on it!” Even though Charles Mann sounded supremely confident regarding the planning of the infiltration to VKE’s promotional cocktail evening, Piper felt a deep sense of unease, his thoughts returning to Jeanette’s comments about Daniel in the lion’s den and the flippant manner in which he had spoken to her. Now, in many ways, he regretted it. “Right, this is your Financial Times I.D. card and of course,” the Colonel let out a hearty smile, “what self respecting newspaper reporter would travel without his business cards?”
Piper reached over and picked up a small box of cards, each measuring 90mm x 55mm. He opened the box and took one out. He smiled, “very impressive.”
“Yes, it never ceases to amaze me what our Mister Lucas can do on those bloody computers. He printed them early this morning. We based the layout on standard issue business cards from the F.T. itself. The address, telephone numbers even Oliver Drake’s own mobile phone number, are all on there.”
“Good, now Colonel, talking of mobile phones,” Piper picked up the phone on the coffee table in front of him, “as you are both well aware, once I’m inside, this is the only lifeline I have with CEATA.”
“Indeed so! Nick has programmed a host of individual numbers into the mobile’s directory, obviously to make it look as though it is utilised for business. Of course, the only number you need to know, is this one.” The Colonel passed a sheet of notepaper over to Piper, “memorize it!” Piper took the paper and looked at it. He closed his eyes, concentrating carefully. He looked again at the paper, then ripped it up and threw the remnants into the waste paper bin near the Commander’s desk. “Good, as I said Sergeant, from the moment you arrive in Dusseldorf we will be watching you, like a hawk watches its prey. The satellite is already in position. When you enter the VKE building tomorrow evening, wherever you go, whatever room you go into, we will be following.”
Piper nodded, the Commander continuing the conversation, a slightly troubled look set firmly on his face, “believe me Sergeant, we realise the risk you are taking, putting yourself directly in the line of fire. However, once again, let me reassure you our CEATA Followers will be just outside the VKE building, in various locations close by. They are well equipped to deal with any emergencies and believe me, if we need firepower to get you out of there, then they will use it!”
“Fair enough, thank you sir.”
“Right then,” said the Colonel, “we will keep in contact as usual by Com-link, until tomorrow evening. Your flight has been reconfirmed, so too, your hotel. You have all your documents, I presume?”
“Of course sir.”
“Good. Maurice and I
have agreed to play this very carefully. Your arrival at Dusseldorf International and your overnight stay will give credence to your cover; it will also give you a chance to get your thoughts together, before you go in!”
“Thank you sir, it’s appreciated!”
“Remember Ash, the number I have given you is your lifeline to us here and don’t forget, if we view any sign of trouble, we will pull you out immediately.”
Piper nodded his head again. He smiled as he started to feel that little bit more confident. Yes he thought, relax, CEATA will be watching, one way or another.
“Incidentally Sergeant,” Commander Hertschell looked up from his desk; a report with several pages lying open on it. He tapped his right index finger on the cover, “I have sent Colonel Yonev a copy of our findings regarding Vitali Menkov. He has acknowledged it of course, but he and his team are up to their necks in White Swan at present.”
“I understand sir. From what Sergeant Winters has told me, the Colonel seems a good man, a man we can trust. We’ll just have to be patient.” Maurice Hertschell nodded his head in agreement.
“I am so looking forward to seeing you again my love. I should be arriving around eight tonight.” Lana Franke giggled, “I have the needles and a brand new surgical gown with me, just for a change,” she whispered.
“Wonderful Lana,” Otto Von Kurst knew his…ex mistress, would call him to confirm what time she would be arriving at his house. But this time there was no smile on his face, no eager excitement as to the pleasures she would later bring him. No, this time, his thoughts were very different! “Take care driving Lana; several sections of the city are closed off at present. I’ll see you later.”
“Of course Otto, I’m so excited about tomorrow evening, I can’t wait.” There was a kiss blown over the airwaves and she hung up.
Slowly, Von Kurst placed his mobile phone back on his desk and folded his arms, his face set like stone.
“You see,” Helga Zeist’s voice was venomous, “you don’t love her, do you? Answer me Otto. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Perhaps Helga, but never the less, she stays with me tonight, you must sleep at your own house, I don’t want to raise any suspicions.”
Helga looked at Von Kurst. It was an intelligent look, a look telling of bold cunning as Von Kurst fell silent. “I still want to kill her Otto. One day my love, you will give her to me. She holds no future within the Were. You and I are the future, that is why you are joining me on my first hunt, isn’t it? You want to break free again, to build your power, to prepare for leadership…as Europe disintegrates!”
Hastily, Von Kurst rose from his chair and walked over to his large office windows, a typical low growl emanating from his vocal chords, a growl that all Were would recognise as an emotional acceptance of the truth. “It may take weeks, even months before Lana removes the lone one’s head,” he whispered, “believe me, I know her very well. He will be her plaything for a long time to come. His life will become one long pathway to the lowliest depths of despair.” Von Kurst paused, his right hand gently stroking his chin as he gazed out across Dusseldorf’s city skyline, his thoughts racing towards the future. The future for the Were. “But yes, you are right Helga, once Lana has broken the lone one and destroyed his will to live, she will be of no further use to me.” He turned and faced the woman he loved, “when she has finished with him Helga, you can kill her…anyway you wish!”
“Good afternoon Mister Menkov,” the smile on Elaine Sasnovitch’s face was warm, for she had a secret crush on Vitali Menkov.
“Elaine my dear, how are you?”
“I’m very well thank you, oh…and this must be Mister Oratz?” Elaine held out her right hand, “I’m delighted to meet you sir.”
“I’m sure you are,” Oratz replied, not bothering to return the courteous gesture of a handshake.
Elaine looked quizzically at Oratz. How rude, she thought.
“My key?” he asked, faking the fact that he was waiting for notification from the young lady, concerning the delivery of a certain…briefcase.
“Mister Oratz,” Elaine moved briskly around the reception counter, towards the row of electronic bedroom key cards used so extensively by hotels the world over. “Before you go up to your room, there has been a delivery for you.”
“Oh?” feigned Oratz, looking hesitantly over to Menkov; who stood reading the day’s edition of Vedmosti, Russia’s widely read business newspaper.
“Yes, your briefcase, you left it at Mister Menkov’s offices.”
“Ah yes, of course.” Oratz feigned disbelief again as he flashed another, this time mischievous gaze at Menkov, who continued to read the paper.
“If you will follow me please, I’ve placed the case in our safety deposit area.” Turning quickly, Elaine walked from the reception, through a door to the rear with Oratz following behind. As he did so, behind the pages of his newspaper, Vitali Menkov’s face creased into a wicked smile. Perfect he thought, simply perfect!
“Yes, here it is.” Elaine quickly undid a chain and padlock attached to the large briefcase. “It’s quite heavy,” she whispered, picking up the case and passing it over.
“Good,” said Oratz, with not a hint of a thank you.
“I presume the contents of your case are very important Mister Oratz?” smiled Elaine.
“Yes indeed,” he replied, “believe me young lady; the contents inside this briefcase will soon shed great light on Europe’s future.” There was a hint of bold exhilaration in Wilhelm Oratz’s eyes.
“Oh, how wonderful,” Elaine whispered, “this must be a very exciting time for you?”
Oratz turned away, the briefcase gripped tightly in his right hand. He walked back towards the reception and to the Russian businessman who had so splendidly taken care of him during his visit to the Venice of the North. As he walked briskly into the reception area, he turned to Elaine…and smiled. “Yes, my dear,” he said, “it is indeed…a very exciting time!”
“Nick, where’s Jeanette?”
“She’s back up at SHAPE, in another meeting!” Nick Lucas looked up from his desk. There was a distinct look of forlorn apprehension set firmly on his face, “I’m sorry Ash! She did want to see you before you left, but then…well…”
Ash Piper couldn’t help looking disappointed, “it’s okay, I understand. Tell her I’ll see her soon.”
“You bet!”
It was 14.45 hours. Piper had to be checked in at Brussels International Airport for 17.00. “Well gents, it’s time to leave and thanks for the business cards Nick, they look great!” Nick didn’t acknowledge his thanks as Piper noticed both he and Jean-Paul had suddenly become very quiet. It was not like them. He picked up his hand luggage and walked towards the Communications Room’s exit door.
“RED HAZE,” Nick shouted over to his friend, “don’t worry, I’ll be watching over you. We all will, good luck, and please…take care!”
“You bet Nick, thanks, and…I’ll see you all soon.” The door hissed open and Ash Piper slowly walked out.
Perhaps it was the birds singing outside the window, or maybe something else that had kept Otto Von Kurst awake for nearly an hour. He lay on his side; his eyes wide open, gazing at the digital clock next to his king sized double bed. It was 06.15, Thursday morning.
“Otto?” Lana Franke’s voice betrayed her underlying concern.
Slowly, Von Kurst turned over, his face coming close to hers, her perfume and body odour once again embracing his senses, just as it had the night before. “Yes Lana.”
“You’ve been awake for some time.”
“I couldn’t sleep; I hope I didn’t disturb you?”
“No, not at all, I haven’t slept too well either.” Lana smiled, leaned forward and kissed his lips. It was a gentle kiss, not penetrating or even mildly erotic, just gentle. “Otto,” her eyes too, were wide open, “I want to ask you a question, and I want a truthful answer.” Von Kurst’s gaze was vacant, his thoughts full of heartache, which surpr
ised him. He had loved Lana Franke deeply, their relationship being in many ways unusual, but very special and very close. Now, that same relationship was finishing, melting away like butter on a hot stove, in a way he could never have imagined. “Do you still…” Lana paused, looking deeply into his eyes, her hand brushing back the thick mane of hair from his forehead, “…love me?” There was silence, an uncomfortable silence that to Lana Franke, spoke a million words of profound heartache and quite possibly…rejection.
Von Kurst rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, “no Lana…I don’t love you anymore.”
To Doctor Lana Franke that one tell-tale sentence fell like a medieval battering ram smashing through a thick oak door. It was a telling blow, a serious wound, not directly to Lana’s heart, but to her ego and her future. “I knew…last night,” she said, her tone hushed, vacant, “when I worked on you. You just lay there, not moving, not moaning, even during your climax.” She turned away and lay on her back, joining her ex lover in gazing at the ceiling, “he’s destroyed our life, hasn’t he?”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed, “you know exactly what I mean Otto. The lone wolf, everything has changed, because of him.” There was no sentiment in Lana’s voice; it was flat, monotone and pitiless. Von Kurst fell silent. “He has destroyed our lives, he has destroyed our world and he threatens yours and the Were’s very existence.”
“Ha!” The last thing Lana Franke expected as a reply was a hearty laugh. Von Kurst leaned over and kissed her lips, his tongue sliding into her mouth. Eagerly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and welcomed the kiss. It was long and deep, but not emotional. “So, you think the lone one threatens our existence?” Von Kurst’s gaze pierced Lana’s, seemingly demanding an answer.