by Ian Redman
Von Kurst continued with his initial pleasantries, “every single one of you here this evening, honours us with your presence, but please, let us dispense with formalities.”
So, there he is thought Piper, the man himself, Otto Von Kurst. Piper’s heart was racing, his thoughts, reeling. It was the sheer presence of the man, his commanding aura, his powerful physique that immediately took Piper by surprise. The Chairman and Managing Director of Von Kurst Electronics stood well over six feet in height, his strong, athletic body radiating strength of character and, Piper was certain, a wealth of wisdom and knowledge. Yes, he thought, Otto Von Kurst certainly looked and acted, like he was God himself. But Piper knew there was something else about the man on the podium that greatly troubled him, something hidden. It wasn’t just the fact that the man addressing the multitude of guests was a werewolf, no; there was something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was as if his inner sense, his wolf sense, was trying to tell him something…but what?
Otto Von Kurst paused and smiled, a smile that held a thousand secrets, “please everyone, help yourself to further cocktails and, as of now, to the rather splendid buffet we have arranged for you all.” Again came another smile as further applause brought more adulation. “Wilhelm and I will be taking the podium again in an hour or so, to introduce our brand new, highly exciting, and I hope you won’t mind me saying, innovative…” a jovial dance of the eyebrows brought laughter from the audience as Von Kurst played the perfect host, “…look at the future, both for Von Kurst Electronics and indeed, the world. So ladies and gentlemen make sure you enjoy yourselves tonight and as the evening moves on we look forward to greeting both old and new friends alike. Thank you.”
There was further impulsive applause as Piper finished his orange and called one of the hostesses over. She willingly obliged as he placed the empty glass onto a stacked tray.
“Another drink, Mister…” the girl quickly viewed Piper’s name on his I.D. badge, “…Drake?”
Piper smiled, the girl too, “no thanks, I’m fine.” She walked away, slowly dissolving into the assembly of guests as Piper’s gaze now followed the man by Otto Von Kurst’s side. Wilhelm Oratz! He looks extremely arrogant he thought, probably a bully, with a grossly over rated opinion of himself. Certainly a man I’d like to punch in the ruddy face, not least of all for all the misery he and his colleague have caused. Piper’s irritated sigh was lost in the buzz of the crowd. He wanted to hit back, to halt Von Kurst in his tracks, to take him on face to face, but he knew that was impossible...at least just for now. Of the two women with Von Kurst and Oratz, he couldn’t quite make them out, there being far too many guests around, enjoying the friendly, hospitable atmosphere.
“I wonder who will get the interview?”
The soft female voice behind Piper made him turn around. “I’m sorry?”
“Don’t you know? Mister Von Kurst, he’s giving just one of us lucky journalists a major interview later this evening, surely you knew?”
Shit thought Piper; you missed that piece of Intel, Nick! “No, sorry,” quickly, Piper thought, change direction, “do I detect a French accent?” He smiled at the woman in front of him. She was pretty, slightly overweight, but that didn’t matter. She seemed very pleasant and he was happy to talk to someone for a few minutes while he gathered his thoughts.
“Oh, I’m sorry…” the woman said jovially as she held out her hand, “Michelle Bouvey, Le Figaro, Paris. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Piper’s hand gently shook his new companion’s, “nice to meet you too Ms Bouvey, my name’s Drake! Oliver Drake of the Financial Times in London.” She smiled again as Piper continued their upbeat conversation, “tell me, Ms Bouvey…”
“Michelle, please call me, Michelle.”
“Thank you and likewise, it’s Oliver.” The pretty French woman sipped at her glass of Bucks Fizz, allowing the polite, quite possibly charming, dark blonde haired gentleman to continue his question. “Sorry, where was I…” Piper momentarily feigned distraction as the hairs on the back of his neck began to stiffen. “…I’ve been on holiday for two weeks, and only just returned yesterday. I’m afraid I’m still a little unclear as to the actual chances of interviews tonight.” As Piper waited for a reply from his pleasant companion, he looked around again at the hosts for the evening. This time they were just three in number. The woman he had recognised as Doctor Lana Franke was in another part of the showroom, introducing herself to various dignitaries.
Michelle Bouvey’s voice trickled to a whisper as she surveyed the large amount of press and television reporters milling around their hosts. “I can see why Mister Von Kurst announced his intention for only one major interview. Huh! I wonder who the lucky person will be?” She looked at Piper; her eyes seemingly warm with invitation.
“Yes, I wonder?” he replied, sliding his hand into his jacket pocket and pulling out his mobile phone. Michelle sipped again at her drink as Piper’s thoughts raced back to CEATA and the telephone number he had memorised. 0099. Once inputted, the four-digit number would send a distress signal straight to Headquarters via the overhead satellite currently tracking his every move. He replaced the phone, neatly slipping it back into his pocket. Although Piper continued his small talk with Michelle Bouvey, his distinct sense of foreboding was growing by the minute. One interview he thought, just one! I wonder who the hell Von Kurst will pick out…for that interview?
“Would you believe it, it looks like he’s chatting up the ladies!” Nick Lucas was trying his best to disguise the somewhat tense atmosphere in CEATA’s Communications Room, but to no avail.
“Just keep monitoring every movement Nick! Wherever Red Haze goes, you follow him.” Colonel Mann’s face was set like stone.
“Yes sir.” The smile on Nick’s face slipped away as he magnified the military, Hi-Tec overhead satellite imagery in the Von Kurst Electronics Showroom, the tell tale red signature under Piper’s left armpit showing exactly where their field agent was located.
“There are certainly enough people there,” muttered Jeanette Descard, “the place is heaving!”
“Well, it was billed as a major event,” replied Jean-Paul, “this new microchip technology is supposed to be groundbreaking. That’s why VKE are opening the new factory in St Petersburg, to begin production.”
“I couldn’t give a damn about microchips at present,” Charles Mann’s gritty, determined voice told all in the room to keep their wits about them, “the best chance Piper has to psyche out Von Kurst is probably when the, supposed, great man himself is giving his speech. How long till then, Nick?”
“The Von Kurst oratory is scheduled in just under one hour sir.”
“Fine…Jean-Paul, the Followers, give me an update!”
“All four Spirits are still in position sir, no change, still on priority code two alert.”
Slowly, the Colonel walked between Nick’s and Jean-Paul’s overly large, well-equipped desks. He gazed at the screen in front of him and folded his arms. “Very well,” he whispered, “all we can do now, is wait.”
The next thirty minutes found Ash Piper with another glass of fresh orange in his hand, this time for purely ornamental purposes as he mingled and exchanged pleasantries with various guests. The genial conversation between Piper and Michelle Bouvey had drifted away as two friends from her earlier journalistic days had appeared, leaving him out on a limb. Not that he minded, his headache was worse, so too, the impending thought that something was not right, that something…had been planned. Quietly, he stood by the large, impressive model of the proposed St Petersburg factory, nodding his head. He had to admit to himself, he thought, the project and its specifications were quite remarkable.
“The research and production facility will be very impressive, once built!”
Even in the midst of so many people, with the various aromas of food, perfume and body odour nimbly trickling through his senses, Ash Piper’s nostrils flared from the female’s distinct essenc
e. The woman, overtly sensual and beautiful, stood just behind him. He turned around in time to see her smile. Piper smiled too, he couldn’t help it!
“You must have been reading my mind,” he said, instantly recognising the woman in front of him. Slowly, as if in a trance, Piper held out his hand, “Oliver Drake of the Financial Times, London. It’s a pleasure to meet you…Doctor Franke.”
Lana Franke accepted the gentlemanly invitation and shook Piper’s hand. “Oh…I think the pleasure is all mine, Mister Drake.” What a handsome man she thought, a fine specimen.
Just for a few moments Ash Piper was dumbstruck! He couldn’t say a word as the woman’s feminine essence continued to stimulate his senses, her beauty making him momentarily catch his breath.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Mister Drake?”
“Please, call me Oliver.”
Slowly, Lana Franke took a sip from her frosted glass of champagne, tilting her head just slightly to the right, her beautiful eyes studying the man stood in front of her. “You’re very forthcoming aren’t you…Oliver?”
“Well, I suppose that’s just one of the by-products of being a journalist. I have to be bold, pushy! It’s a very competitive business and yes, I am enjoying myself, especially now!”
“Oh, I see!” She paused, amusement dancing in her flirtatious eyes, Piper’s senses tingling as he considered the shapeliness of her curvaceous body in her red, figure hugging dress. “So, how long have you been with the Financial Times, Oliver?” The beautiful woman giggled as she sipped her champagne, her tongue tantalisingly edging the rim of her glass.
“Just over a year Lana, and how long have you been with Mister Von Kurst?” Shit, thought Piper, be careful! For God’s sake don’t push your luck!
“Oh, for quite some time now, Otto and I love each other dearly, but why do you ask?” There was no smile this time, just a look of overt inquisitiveness, and possible…mistrust!
“I apologise! I’m just making polite conversation, that’s all. I’ve seen pictures of you with Mister Von Kurst, in various newspapers and magazines. May I say the two of you make a splendid couple.”
Lana Franke sipped her champagne again, her eyes not letting go of Piper’s. “Thank you, Oliver,” she paused, then whispered, “blue and amber, how enchanting!”
“I’m sorry!” Piper looked genuinely surprised, then his heart began to race.
“Blue and amber, what fascinating colours, your eyes, I mean!”
Now quickly on the defensive, Piper feigned a pleasant smile, “oh yes, they’re quite the conversation piece. Girls always found my eye colours interesting during my time at college and university.”
“I’ll bet they did. Mmm, it’s strange isn’t it, amber eyes in a human being, they’re so very unusual, so very…rare?”
Be careful thought Piper, this woman is pushing, digging! She’s very intelligent and quite possibly, dangerous. He shrugged, “I’ve never really thought about it.” Piper’s voice was calm, perhaps overly so.
“Amber…” Now a hint of mischief embraced the attractive physician’s velvet tone, “you know Oliver, there is one animal I can think of, that has amber eyes.”
Piper’s gaze hardened, “oh, and which animal is that?”
Lana smiled, again her eyes still not leaving Piper’s, “the wolf! Yes, wolves have such wonderful amber eyes. Rather like yours!”
Piper feigned another smile as Lana licked her lips yet again, her eyes distant, as if suddenly in another world. Just what the hell is she imagining, he thought? “Wolves?” he continued, trying hard not to show any increase in emotion. “I wouldn’t know, I’m not much of a nature lover I’m afraid. I’m more of a city type, you know, a pint of bitter with the lads and a good football match on a Saturday afternoon.”
“Really? Well you certainly look very fit, do you play a lot of football, Oliver?” This time the sexual, velvet voice was missing. In its place was a questioning, singular tone of disbelief and a far more hardened, quite defiant gaze.
“Yes, when I can!” As Piper continued to sip his orange Lana Franke looked him slowly up and down. Then, abruptly, she turned her head, viewing the guests around her. Now Piper felt distinctly uncomfortable. She was definitely searching for something, he thought, and right now, for someone!
“I see Otto is with a couple of his business friends…mmm, I don’t think I can interrupt him. That is a shame; I would have loved him to meet you.”
“Well, perhaps another time Lana, he’s a very busy man.”
Fixedly, the radiant, alluringly beautiful woman in the red dress stared at Piper again, this time her eyes ablaze with devilish mischief, “wouldn’t you like to meet Otto…Oliver?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so!” The hairs on the back of Piper’s neck were now rigid with tension. Shit he thought, for God’s sake be careful!
“I’d have thought any journalist here tonight would have given their right arm to meet Otto, but you don’t seem to be interested. Why is that, I wonder?”
Piper noticed the good doctor’s fingers of her right hand; they were tapping her near empty glass of champagne. Fuck, he thought! Think damn it, think! “That’s not true Lana,” he continued, his voice still calm, “it would be a pleasure and a privilege to meet the great man. But I know Mister Von Kurst is only announcing one major interview this evening, and I doubt the Financial Times will be on his list.”
“Nonsense Oliver,” she giggled again, “you must be like Otto, dynamic and aggressive,” she paused, her sexuality once again enveloping Piper, pulling him in as if he was sinking into quicksand. “Otto always says the world of business can bring out the beast inside a man. Would you say that was true…Oliver?” Her look had now become dangerous, like that of a predator evaluating its prey.
Piper smiled again, trying to ease the growing tension emanating between the two of them, “yes, I suppose so, assuming the beast was there in the first place.” Now Lana Franke was psychologically fencing with him. Piper knew he had to be very careful.
“I’ll see what I can do! I’m sure I can convince Otto to let you have the interview, that would be so exciting for you, wouldn’t it?” Lana Franke took another, slow sip of champagne.
“Thank you Lana, I appreciate it!”
“Not at all! I’ll have a quick word with Otto, he’s due to give his speech quite soon and then I’m sure you will have a chance to meet him. In fact…I’m certain you will!” She took a final sip of champagne, her eyes smouldering, predatory. “I’ll see you later, handsome.” Piper’s casual inquisitor turned away, not looking back, mingling once again with the other guests as he drew a deep intake of breath. Without realising, his face had become ashen. He had placed himself in a great deal of danger and all because of his own, pig headed stupidity. Get on with the job, he thought, when Von Kurst gives his speech, psyche him out, enter his thoughts then get out…quickly!
He finished his glass of orange and called to another of the delightful ladies serving drinks. As he did so, Piper looked back at Doctor Lana Franke. There is something distinctly unsettling about that woman he thought, and it isn’t just her personality. An icy chill ran down Piper’s spine as he suddenly realised what was troubling him. Yes he thought, it was the colour of her dress. It was red…blood red!
Helga Zeist smiled radiantly, her lover’s charm and seductive personality had won over his guests, of that there was no doubt. “How can anyone resist your charms my love?” she whispered.
Otto Von Kurst turned and smiled at Helga whilst still exchanging pleasantries with guests walking by. “I was about to say the same to you, Helga.”
“Everyone seems to be enjoying the buffet,” Helga sounded pleased.
“Yes indeed, you have worked very hard for this evening my love, your assistance as always, is greatly appreciated.”
Von Kurst’s lover reached out and ran her right hand down his cheek. There was a certain radiance in her eyes that told any sharp-sighted guest that the Managing Director of V
KE had a new lover in his life. “You know I am always happy to assist you Otto, besides, this is a very special night, both for you and Wilhelm.”
“Indeed so,” Von Kurst glanced at his watch, “I need to speak to Wilhelm before we take to the podium, just give me ten minutes.” He turned and looked across the room at Wilhelm Oratz, a sharp nod of the head telling his busy confidante it was time to talk. As Oratz excused himself from the group of people around him, he noticed the look in Von Kurst’s eyes. It made him shiver. Within seconds Oratz stood at his close friend’s side. “How’s your headache?” he muttered.
Von Kurst slowly shook his head, “throbbing, the bastard’s trying to probe my mind, I can sense him. He’s clever, but not clever enough.”
“Not long now Otto, and we’ll have the shit!”
“Otto…”
Lana Franke’s voice made both men turn around, the hairs on the back of Von Kurst’s neck, becoming rigid. “Lana, you seem to be making plenty of new friends, but that doesn’t surprise me!” Von Kurst grinned as his ex mistress drew close to his side.
“Yes, these events are always so interesting; you just never know who you’re going to meet.”
I know that look, you little minx, thought Von Kurst, “well, out with it Lana, you have something to tell me, something important!”
Lana giggled, her eyebrows dancing with mischievous relish, “I think your plan to lure the lone wolf into your trap, is going to work out far better than you could ever imagine.” She giggled again, much to the annoyance of Wilhelm Oratz.
“Oh,” Von Kurst’s voice was low, solemn, “I am intrigued!”
“Yes, take a look over to your right, where that group of reporters are stuffing themselves with their free food!” Ever so slowly, the two men turned their heads.
“You see the tall man in the background, with his back towards us. You can just make him out!” Von Kurst’s eyes narrowed, his excellent field of vision zooming in on the group of guests who were now of such great interest.