by Ian Redman
“Very impressive Otto, very impressive indeed!”
Slowly, Von Kurst walked around his desk and pulled up another chair, looking down once again at the briefcase at Oratz’s side. He sat down, this time between his friend and Helga. “What is on your mind, Wilhelm?”
The question caught Oratz by surprise, “I’m sorry Otto, what do you mean?”
“I have known you for a long time my friend; I can read your facial expressions like a book. There is something troubling you, isn’t there?”
Oratz looked at Von Kurst, then at Helga. Dare he voice his opinion he thought, what would Otto think?
“Come on Wilhelm,” Von Kurst slapped Oratz on his back, “out with it, what’s bothering you?”
“Lana…is bothering me!”
“Ah, and this is because of…?” Von Kurst looked intrigued. He knew how much his close friend and confidante hated the woman who had played such a key part in his own life.
“Something Vitali said!”
“I see, and what did Vitali say?” Von Kurst’s voice was mellow, not threatening or suspicious.
Oratz looked at Helga, his gaze returning quickly to Von Kurst, “the balance of power is changing, isn’t it? The love you had for Lana, is no more!”
“Mmm, that is a very astute question my friend, I presume Vitali has sensed this?”
“Yes, he knows you and Helga must join together, to bring the Were more power, especially as Europe is about to fold into chaos.”
“And my dear Wilhelm…” Von Kurst stared at Helga, who smiled openly, “Vitali is right. Yes, the balance is changing.”
“So, if this is true, Lana is a threat…to all of us!”
Von Kurst fell silent, his thoughts racing back to the early morning and the hysterical woman shaking and screaming uncontrollably in his bed. “I know,” he said, “but I need her at present.”
“Yes, of course, for interrogating the lone one. I’m sure she will do an excellent job in obtaining the information you require.” Oratz paused again. “But what then?” he whispered, “what if she decides to take a different path, to leave you for good. She damned well knows too much Otto!”
“Yes, and she is also a board member of VKE, Wilhelm. No, Lana will not make any rash decisions for the moment, besides, as of tonight, she will have a new toy to play with, for a long time to come. Believe me, after tonight, her childish mind will be quite happy, at least for the time being.”
“I see.” Oratz fell silent, his gaze wandering aimlessly across Von Kurst’s office.
“You want to kill Lana, don’t you Wilhelm?” whispered Von Kurst, menacingly.
Oratz’s stony gaze once again met his Fuhrer’s, “yes, I will kill her for you, just give me the word!”
“Otto, stop playing games, tell Wilhelm…now!”
Helga Zeist’s words startled Oratz. “Tell me what?” he whispered.
Von Kurst sat back, an evil leer returning to the face of the New Totenkopf’s Fuhrer.
“There is no need for you to worry about Lana being a hindrance Wilhelm, no need at all.” Von Kurst growled, so too did Helga as Oratz’s spine tingled, both with fear and excitement. “When the time is right Wilhelm, I can assure you Lana will die, for I have already promised her…to Helga!”
It had been a long day and Ash Piper, now dressed in his dark blue business suit and tie, sat in the back seat of yet another taxi. It was 18.14 p.m. and for over two hours his head had ached, but this time the aching was even more severe. Another two Paracetomols had dulled the throbbing, but it was still there. Piper looked outside, gazing vacantly at the rows of traffic slowly moving through the city. All these people he thought, ending another day of work. As the taxi driver wound slowly through Dusseldorf’s busy rush hour, he began to regret the necessity of leaving the USP at the hotel. All he carried now was a notebook and pen, his invitation, I.D., business cards, money…and his mobile phone. But the absence of his favourite handgun was not the only issue troubling Piper. As always he had been in contact with CEATA throughout the day, but one report he had been expecting had still not yet appeared. Since the terrible slaughter at the weekend, there were still four detonations, which had not yet taken place. Piper shook his head in dismay. Just what the fuck is Von Kurst up to, he thought? I must find out…tonight!
“The Von Kurst Electronics building looks splendid, I passed it just over an hour ago, it’s beautifully lit up from the outside.” The taxi driver, this time German and a native of Dusseldorf, wore a cheerful smile on his face.
“Yes I know, it’s a very impressive building.”
“It was especially built,” replied the taxi driver, “very eco friendly, their production area is well hidden behind the main building. It’s all very clever.”
“So I believe!” Although his thoughts were still in overdrive, Piper was happy to join in the conversation, for he had not spoken fluent German for some time. The day’s recon passes had gone well, the security at the main entrance to the VKE Head Office being as tight as he had expected.
“Here we go!” The taxi pulled around another street corner and into a parking slot as the magnificent, six storey, silver alloy building of Von Kurst Electronics came into view.
“Keep the change,” said Piper.
“Thank you, enjoy your evening.”
Ever so carefully, the taxi pulled away as Piper looked across the road at the large queue of reporters and news teams from around the world. They all stood patiently, waiting to show their invitations to the security men at the large front doors. Security men my arse thought Piper, they’re probably grenadiers. Briskly, he crossed the busy road and joined the queue as various guests arrived by limousine. Slowly, carefully, he scanned his surroundings. Shit, he thought, this is more like the bloody Oscars. Ever so quickly, a vibrant atmosphere seemingly enveloped Piper’s senses as television news teams reported to the world’s masses. Yes, he thought, this was certainly going to be a grand occasion.
Slowly but surely, the queue moved forward with Piper introducing himself to several reporters, trying cheerfully to discuss the proposed itinerary for the evening, only to find lack lustre responses. Of course, he thought, act your part! You’re Oliver Drake of the Financial Times! BE…Oliver Drake! Piper had heard of the strong rivalry between journalists, after all, they were all in the same business, always seeking the best report, the best…interview! Somewhat discreetly, he smiled to himself, for the people around him were now, in many ways, his supposed rivals.
“Can I have your name, please sir?”
The attractive blonde haired girl, dressed in a stylish business suit and sporting a VKE I.D. badge, brought Piper’s thoughts back to reality. “Drake,” he said quietly, “Oliver Drake.”
The girl smiled as she slowly ran her finger down the guest list, “ah yes, Mister Drake, and you are representing…?”
“The Financial Times in London, here’s my invitation.”
“Thank you. If you will just walk over to the security area Mister Drake, I know it’s a nuisance, but with the troubles at present, we can’t take any chances.”
“I understand.”
The girl smiled again, this time perhaps overly so. “Thank you Mister Drake, enjoy the evening!”
Somewhat leisurely, Piper joined another queue of people, all anxious to get through the security scans and claim their own space for the evening’s presentation. As he drew close to one of the burly VKE security guards, his thoughts once again drifted back to Jeanette Descard and his flippancy in the corridor at CEATA Headquarters. Yes, he thought, here I am Jeanette, going completely against your advice. At long last, Mister Oliver Drake of the Financial Times is entering…the wolf’s den!
10
BLOOD RED!
“Spirit One, Spirit Two, do you copy, over?” Charles Mann adjusted the mouthpiece of the Com-link attached to his right ear as he stood rigidly next to Nick Lucas.
“This is Spirit One; we are in position, on priority code two alert.
We are ready to assist, if required.” CEATA Follower, Paul Gent turned to the woman sat in the passenger seat of his black Saab 9-3. “Well, Red Haze is in,” he said quietly.
“Yes,” replied Suzanne Reline, “I just hope this mission goes well.” Suzanne stared out of the Saab’s darkened windows, her eyes alert, watchful, as just down the road, a man in a dark green BMW sat quietly reading his newspaper.
“Spirit Three, do you copy, over?”
Native to Belgium, Carolyn Melen had been a CEATA Follower for over one year. As she sipped her coffee by a large window in the busy café near Von Kurst Electronics, she whispered her reply, “affirmative Control, Spirit Three in position.” Just behind her, several tables away, a man sat enjoying a sandwich and a large mug of steaming hot coffee, his unkempt appearance disguised somewhat by his black, highly fashionable raincoat.
“Spirit Four, do you copy, over?”
The well-dressed businessman sat in the Volkswagen Passat, just around the corner from the main entrance to VKE, replied boldly into his Com-link. “Spirit Four in position, on code two alert, ready to assist.” Forty eight year old Karl Spans was ex GSG9 and incredibly fit for his age. He had been a Follower for nine months and thoroughly relished his profession.
“Very good, stay in position and keep alert; we are monitoring Red Haze as we speak. If there is any sign of trouble, I want all of you in that building as fast as possible. I will keep in contact, Control out!” Charles Mann looked around at his colleagues in CEATA’s Communications Room, “well everyone, this is it, let’s keep our fingers crossed.”
Jeanette Descard, her eyes held by the satellite imagery on the large screen in front of her, began to toy with the small crucifix she always wore around her neck. Although she would never admit it, she was despondent at the thought of missing Piper before he had left for Germany, her eyes haphazardly betraying her emotions as she recalled the words she had whispered to him upon Red Haze’s hasty departure for Amsterdam. Bon chance, mon ami…bon chance!
“You are certain this device will work, Wilhelm?”
“Trust me Otto, as soon as he is lured into the room, I will activate it. The controller is here, in my pocket. Believe me; any form of electronic surveillance within one hundred metres will be thoroughly disrupted. Vitali swears by these devices.”
Otto Von Kurst nodded in appreciation of his friend’s comments; the ‘gift’ from Vitali Menkov would make the capture of the lone one that little bit easier. “What about the rear offices Wilhelm, across from the showroom. I take it the area has been closed off to the public?”
Oratz bowed his head slightly, “of course, no one will be in the vicinity. As of tonight, it is completely private!”
“Excellent! Well, we had better join our guests, hadn’t we?” Looking supremely confident, Otto Von Kurst, along with Wilhelm Oratz, Helga Zeist and Lana Franke prepared to leave the Von Kurst Electronics’ Managing Director’s office. As the smartly dressed foursome walked towards the elevator, Helga moved quickly to Lana’s side. “If you know what’s good for you, stay out of my way,” she whispered.
The elevator arrived and they stepped in, the venomous look on Lana’s face telling of hateful feelings. Piss off, you bitch, she thought!
As the lift descended, Von Kurst noted the look of loathsome hatred between the two women. What a splendid evening this will be, he thought, sarcastically.
Ash Piper sipped at the ice-cold glass of fresh orange in his hand. He felt hot, his headache still throbbing, constantly annoying him. But now it was getting worse, stronger, much stronger. He smoothed his right hand across the back of his neck, in an attempt to massage the pain away as he looked around the magnificent VKE showroom. It was large; easily holding well over two hundred guests. He had to admit, VKE had spared no expense on the opulent surroundings, with thick shag pile carpet stretching from wall to wall and beautifully mounted and framed, large photographs of the four VKE facilities displayed under bright spotlights in its four corners. Centred in each of the elegantly decorated walls, large flat-screen plasma televisions showed reports from various European news channels, but at a much-reduced volume. Piper couldn’t help but notice the EuroNews channel was reporting once again on the lead up to the forthcoming Festival of Peace in Rome. He smiled to himself as he noticed a podium in one corner, with rows of chairs neatly placed in an outgoing semi circle, the seats for the press laid out to the right, the left and centre being for Von Kurst’s, honoured guests. The room was a hive of activity, with a throng of newspaper reporters jockeying for position in their attempts to speak with various ‘important’ guests from the world of business, and to Piper’s surprise, show business as well. Members of the European Parliament, businessmen and women from all over Europe, even from the USA and Far East, were all present along with dignitaries from the world of finance and banking, all basking under the spotlight of media frenzy. Piper gazed nonchalantly at two German footballers with their wives and at several actors, standing together; sipping champagne like there was no tomorrow.
“Another drink, Mister Drake?” A pretty young woman, one of several hostesses for the evening smiled warmly as Piper looked down at his glass. It was nearly empty.
“No, I’m fine, thank you.” She smiled again and slowly moved on, mingling among the excited crowd. As he continued the surveillance of his plush surroundings, Piper noticed the large, schematic models of the four main Von Kurst Electronics factories. They were set in each corner, beneath the mounted photographs. Dusseldorf, Munich, Zurich and Rome, and in the middle of the room sat a magnificent model of the forthcoming ‘Satchip’ research and production facility in St Petersburg. For a few moments Piper’s gaze focused intently on the model as his thoughts travelled to the city of St Petersburg and Vitali Menkov…the Rostov Ripper! I wonder if Menkov will be here tonight, he thought?
Wilhelm Oratz looked across at Lana Franke as the four key players for the evening’s entertainment made their way to the rear doors leading to the VKE showroom. They were splendidly dressed for the occasion, Von Kurst and Oratz in their finest business suits and Helga Zeist in a light green blouse with matching skirt, designed to perfectly compliment her shapely figure and good looks. But it was Lana Franke who knew she would command the stares of admiration, the gasps of amazement and the unavoidable sexual stimulation of the male guests. Her new dress, designed specially for the event, was tailored to perfectly enhance her womanly curves. Lana prepared to bask knowingly in her femininity, to take immense pleasure in the knowledge of her blatant sexual attraction. It was to be a grand entrance, with Von Kurst and Oratz walking in first through the doorway, situated next to the podium.
“I hear it’s over, Lana.”
Lana Franke closed the petite handbag she was carrying and looked up at the man she thoroughly despised. “What’s over?”
“Oh come on, I’m sure you know, you must!” Wilhelm Oratz was becoming accustomed to smiling. Ever since his dinner and his two days spent with Vitali Menkov, he had smiled considerably. But his smiles were always of a devious nature, smiles to which blatantly wicked thoughts were constantly attached.
“No, I don’t know what you mean.” Lana tossed her beautiful, shoulder length, dark hair to the side, this time with newly added blonde tints radiating under the spotlights lining the hallway.
Oratz sniggered, “your hold on Otto,” he whispered, “it’s finished…isn’t it?”
The look on Lana Franke’s face could not be disguised, “fuck off, you ugly bastard!”
“When you two have finished…” Otto Von Kurst looked decidedly angry, “Wilhelm, this is not the time for childish goading, we have a task to accomplish tonight and I expect results!” There was tenseness in the air.
“My apologies Otto, I didn’t mean to…”
“Forget it! Let’s get on with the evening.” Von Kurst prepared to open the door then closed his eyes, his face grimacing. He growled, the typical low growl of the Were, a growl of both defiance and defence
.
“Otto, are you alright?” Lana Franke sounded genuinely concerned.
“I’m fine Lana; it’s just a headache, that’s all!” Von Kurst turned to Helga, the look in her slightly bloodshot eyes, the same as his. The time for the lone wolf’s incarceration was drawing near and they both knew it!
“He is here, Otto.” Helga fought to conceal the low monotone change in her voice.
“I know, I can sense him, and he senses me…” Von Kurst’s penetrating gaze turned to Lana. “Not long now,” he whispered as he gently tapped on the door.
At the same time Lana Franke began to giggle.
Willi Bichter, VKE Dusseldorf’s Telesales Manager, had been waiting for his Managing Director’s knock on the door. Just three taps, to tell him they were ready. He was proud to be taking part in the event, even if the part he played was just a small one. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WILL YOU PLEASE WELCOME YOUR HOSTS FOR THIS EVENING, MISTER OTTO VON KURST AND MISTER WILHELM ORATZ!” A hushed silence fell over the VKE showroom, followed by an eruption of spontaneous applause as the two businessmen, closely followed by their two female companions entered the room.
Suddenly, Ash Piper’s headache grew in intensity as the four stood in all their glory, enjoying the rapturous welcome. Von Kurst bowed his head slightly, acknowledging his guests, with Oratz at his side, the look on his face vacant, cold.
Piper, at the back of the showroom, stayed behind the welcoming throng as he remembered Colonel Mann’s words just before he left headquarters, ‘remember Red Haze, avoid direct confrontation. Enter Von Kurst’s mind, gain any information you can, then get out!’
“Ladies and Gentlemen, on behalf of the Von Kurst Electronics Board of Directors, may I take this opportunity to welcome you to this very special evening.” Otto Von Kurst, now on the podium with large silver VKE initials hanging majestically behind him, basked in the adulation of his guests.
If only you all knew thought Piper, his gaze never leaving the Managing Director of Von Kurst Electronics.