by Ian Redman
During the early 1980’s, Charles Mann had been a key figure in the development and overall deployment of the ‘British Army of the Rhine’. He had then spent time commanding the elite ‘Royal Ghurkha Rifles’ and could speak fluent Nepalese. During the early 90’s, the Colonel had taken command of NATO’s Central Operations in Europe, this leading to a major role in the organisation’s redevelopment and deployment across mainland Europe. In 2000, after the collapse of the ‘Iron Curtain’, Colonel Mann helped forge stronger European based relationships with former Warsaw Pact countries, including Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania, before taking command of UK Special Forces Operations in 2001.
Within the military ranks of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation, Colonel Charles Andrew Mann was a greatly revered officer.
The two men shook hands warmly. Piper had met Colonel Mann the year before after his own successful assassination of Serbian Major Ramal Vlatec. A wanted man for war crimes since the former Yugoslavian Civil War, Piper’s undercover mission with the Special Air Service had gone well, the Colonel having personally congratulated him for what he had described as “an exceptional job”.
Now both men faced each other again, but this time under far different circumstances.
“It’s good to see you again, Colonel.”
“You too Ash. I take it the service here, has been to your liking? After you were found, our American friends helped to move you. Of course, there was no way we could take you to our standard field hospital, not after the circumstances surrounding your hospitalisation.” The uniformed, grey haired, overly tall man smiled warmly at Piper.
“Of course, I understand sir.”
“Good, anyway, you’re looking well.”
“I feel well sir. I’m certainly ready to get back to Iraq, and I hope you won’t mind me asking, but how are Dunstan and Collins?”
“Slow down Ash, slow down. Dunstan and Collins are fine and are back on active duty. But for you my dear fellow…things are different.”
For a few seconds Piper looked puzzled, then he sighed. “Yes I suppose things are different now, aren’t they?”
“Yes Ash, they are. Very different.” Slowly, Colonel Mann stood and walked over to the large, slightly open, sunlit window. There was a gentle, refreshing, cool breeze blowing into the room. “Tell me Ashley, and be truthful with your answer.” Charles Mann looked directly at Piper, his face set like stone, “can you control that thing inside you?” There was silence as Piper looked down at his bed sheets. “I’m waiting for your answer, Ash!”
Piper breathed in deeply, his eyes now staring at the ceiling, “I’m sure I can sir.”
“Well, myself and a group of people who you’ll meet later in the week, have to be convinced. I saw the satellite footage of what happened during the firefight. God in heaven, I still can’t believe it!”
“Neither can I sir.”
The Colonel walked back to Piper’s bedside and sat down, grim faced. “So Ashley, it seems werewolves do exist!”
“Yes sir, it certainly does.”
“Right then!” With his broad, pleasant smile returning, Charles Mann held out his hand once more. The two men shook again, firmly. “Your de-briefing takes place in three days.” This time the Colonel’s tone was much more of a military nature. “Ash, for you the battle is over, now…the real war is about to begin. I have made arrangements for you to join a Royal Saudi Air Force C130 flight the day after tomorrow. The flight is on a standard medical supply mission into Brussels. Make sure you’re on it! You will then be met at Brussels airport and driven to ‘SHAPE’ Headquarters. I will see you there.”
‘SHAPE’ thought Piper, ‘Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe’. The Central European Military Command Headquarters for NATO, based at Casteau, near Mons.
“Very well sir, I’ll be on that flight.”
“Good! Right then, I have to leave. Rest now Ashley, I will see you soon.” Thoughtfully, Colonel Mann glanced once more at Piper as he quickly opened the door and walked out, his solid footsteps echoing down the hospital corridor.
“Doctor Ramirez, the room, is it ready?”
“Yes Colonel, as you requested, please follow me.” Briskly, the two men walked down another corridor, the Colonel now carrying a large briefcase he had previously left with the hospital’s armed security guards. Down another corridor they travelled, arriving at a door with a sign on it which read ‘MEETING IN PROGRESS. DO NOT ENTER’ Quickly, Doctor Ramirez punched a code into a small panel and opened the door, “in here, Colonel.”
“Thank you for your help Doctor, obviously I do not want to be disturbed.”
“Of course!” Doctor Ramirez nodded and left the room, carefully closing the door behind him.
Swiftly, Charles Mann lifted the briefcase onto a large desk in front of him, then tapped in a pre set code on a keypad inlaid on its right side. With a slight hissing sound the case automatically opened up, a portable television screen and keyboard attachment now in full view. Hastily, the Colonel pressed a red button on the keyboard. As the small television screen came alive, it read:
‘IDENTIFICATION REQUIRED’.
Gently, Charles Mann typed ‘LIONHEART’ and tapped the keyboard’s ‘return’ button. Within a few seconds, a message appeared:
‘IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED. PLEASE WAIT’.
The screen flashed again as the sound of static hissed from the case’s inbuilt loudspeaker. Then, directly in front of him, another man’s face came into view. He had jet-black hair and was naturally tanned. He was also uniformed, a high-ranking officer. “Charles,” the uniformed man said.
“Maurice, how are you?”
“Fine my friend, fine.”
“Have you viewed the satellite video footage?”
“Of course…”
“And…your thoughts?”
“I should think the same as yours. At last we have further evidence of these creatures existence.”
“Agreed, but what of Piper himself, and what he can do…for us.”
The dark blue uniformed man on the television screen looked deeply concerned as he continued his important conversation, “from what I have seen Charles, I would expect him to be highly volatile and at times, uncontrollable. The risk factor is obviously high!”
“Perhaps, but he is also extremely lethal. I take it you have read the reports from the two recon teams in the area, the ones concerning the body count?”
The man on the screen sat back in his chair and nodded, “I have, very thoroughly!”
“Forty three Iraqi soldiers, quite literally torn apart. I am sure you will agree Maurice, he is the weapon we need to be one step ahead of our enemies?”
“Yes, I certainly do agree.”
“Then we move?”
“Indeed so! He has Level One clearance.”
The well tanned, uniformed man moved closer to the screen, a serious look enveloping his face. “Bring him to Headquarters. I look forward to seeing you soon Charles. Closing communication.”
Charles Mann, his heart pounding, his fingers tapping the desk, watched the small screen close out, leaving a tiny white dot in the centre. At last, he thought, we have a new weapon, a weapon that will strike fear into the heart of terrorists everywhere. The Colonel smiled, stroked his chin in deep thought, then closed the briefcase.
It was six minutes to midday in Amsterdam and Anton Actie was in a heated meeting. Although unbeknown to everyone around him, he was still thinking of the sinister phone call earlier in the morning. As various senior members of the ‘De Telegraaf’ editorial team sat and argued about the next day’s headlines, Actie suddenly started to feel sick. Casually he got up to leave the meeting, when the internal phone began ringing. Cautiously, Actie looked at the phone whilst everyone else seemingly ignored it. Slowly, without really knowing why, he picked it up.
“Yes,” he said, quietly.
“Anton, it’s him again.”
“Who?”
“That weird man, the
one who rang this morning.”
Julie, the receptionist sounded frightened as the sweat poured off Actie’s forehead. “Shit, put him through…hello, Anton Actie speaking.” Actie wiped the sweat from his brow as the man with the accent spoke again.
“And so…it begins!”
The line closed.
Without hesitating Actie looked at his watch, it was two minutes to midday. Anxiously, he dialled down to the receptionist, “Julie, get me the police, quickly!”
“Oh dear,” Anna Friid said, “the blonde haired gentleman has forgotten his briefcase.” Anna looked at the clock and sighed. The man had left about twenty minutes ago. Oh, how clumsy of her, forgetting to give it to him! Annoyed with her carelessness, she walked over to see if there was an address or telephone number on the case.
It was fourteen seconds to midday.
As Anna bent to pick up the case, her life abruptly came to an end, her body being liquefied by the bomb’s blast. The fireball and shock wave engulfed the museum in a tidal wave of pressurised flame, throwing Zara Milt headlong across the building into one of the plate glass windows, her thick-rimmed glasses mixing with the rubble now flying everywhere. The screams of people were terrible, the flames raging, melting skin on bone, like plastic on a hot stove. The death toll was to be horrendous. Over sixty people killed, forty-eight injured, many severely. Amsterdam itself was now in chaos as Police, Ambulance and Fire teams rushed to the dreadful scene.
And at exactly the same time, in three different restaurants at Euro Disney near Paris, three further bombs detonated, with further blasts occurring in Frankfurt and Antwerp. Why? No one knew, but all had the same ‘tell tale’ characteristics of the phone calls to newspapers, and the ‘European Muslim Freedom Fighters’ claiming responsibility.
The whole of Europe lay shaken.
It was just over two hours later when Ashley Piper, after hearing about the atrocities switched on the television and tuned to Sky News. The image in front of him showed a female reporter live at Euro Disney, seemingly distressed, hardly able to concentrate on the job at hand. Over one hundred men, women and children lay dead, with possibly over three hundred injured. The detonations in Amsterdam, Frankfurt and Antwerp were also being reported. It was the worst terrorist atrocity since the attacks on the World Trade Centre buildings in the United States in 2001.
It was also at that precise moment in time, that Ash Piper felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand rigid, his eyes suddenly becoming heavily bloodshot. As the morbid, sorrowful reporting continued, Piper’s vocal chords contracted. Then he growled, a low rumbling, defiant growl.
The wolf was talking to him.
Through his newly formed blood red field of vision, Ash Piper glared as if hypnotised at the horrifying scenes on the television screen. As his growling intensified, so too did a feeling of fervent anger and rage.
Now it’s time, he thought. Time…for war!
3
PAIN AND PLEASURE
The meeting had gone well, he thought, very well indeed. The shareholders would be happier, and he, far richer. It should have been a time to celebrate but instead, the bitch had tricked him again. The glass of complimentary champagne…of course, she must have slipped the sedative into it. How she must have enjoyed stripping him down, and now here he sat…naked and restrained, utterly helpless whilst waiting for that one important phone call.
As usual, she had planned her mischievous deed so very well, right down to the very last detail. She knew he would be angry but that would make no difference. Oh no, if anything it would help stimulate and excite her even more. Yes, he could see her now, in one of the offices, even right next door. She would be gloating, smiling, licking those beautiful red lips at the thought of the torment she was about to unleash on his naked, helpless form. Oh yes, he knew her sadistic ways very well! He knew right now, as he struggled against his restraints, she would be preparing her instruments and watching the clock, waiting for him…to wake up.
As always…her timing would be perfect!
Shit! The mobile phone on his desk…ringing! DAMN IT! He struggled but it was no use, his athletic, muscle-strewn body held tight in the chair. Taut, unmovable! It was no good. DAMN THE BITCH TO HELL, he needed to answer that phone!
His naked, restrained body started to sweat as he struggled again, wrenching, pulling, trying to break free. The phone had to be answered; it was imperative. But it was no use. He relaxed, his stifled breathing erratic, guttural. Wilhelm would know what she had done he thought, if anyone could read her mind, it was him…and she hated it! He tried to smile, but couldn’t. It was sometimes quite amusing the way they both detested each other, and now Wilhelm would be angry. No, not angry…enraged!
The mobile phone stopped ringing.
Frustrated, his eyes scanned the plush office interior. The lights had been dimmed and as usual, the sound of Dusseldorf’s busy, evening rush hour traffic could just be heard through the double glazed, bulletproof windows. He tossed his head back, his heart beginning to beat faster at the thought of what lay ahead, and to what form of torture she had devised for him this time. At the moment he could breathe normally through the leather gag secured to his mouth and head, but he knew it would be tightened up later, when she began her work.
Her painful, agonising, sadistic work.
He struggled again, but gave up the fight, lowering his head as if in submission. The handcuffs held his hands securely around the back of his office chair, his strong, hairy chest fully secured, immobile by the thick black strap wrapped around him. And then there was the matter of his lower regions, his legs taped securely around the legs of the large chair, his genitals fully exposed. The bitch! THE MINX! God, how she would gloat at his helplessness, his subdued appearance, his body, so secure, just waiting…for her arrival.
The minutes slipped by, just as they always did when she had him at her mercy. Shit, how he hated this kind of waiting game, but then again, that was exactly the way she worked. Sedate, strip, strap and secure! It was always the same!
Then…he heard the footsteps, drawing closer to the office door, and not only her footsteps, he also recognised the sound of wheels turning, and a slight…rattling, vibrating. Oh God! That sound…a small trolley! He started to breathe heavily again, his fists clenching as he looked down at his openness, his penis beginning to harden. He knew what would be on that trolley, her surgical gloves, the disinfectant, sterile wipes and of course, her set of needles. Her very fine, sharp…surgical needles.
Oh God! The key, in the door! It turned, so too did the handle, very, very slowly. And there she stood, as beautiful as ever, her white doctor’s coat glimmering in the low office lighting. And underneath her white coat, the alluring, erotic, white lingerie. Her silky bra holding the wonderful curvature of her perfectly formed breasts, and her panties; see through, so sexual, leading down to the stockings and suspenders.
All so clinically, beautifully sexual.
At once, he noticed her dark shoulder length hair, this time swept back in a ponytail, her rich, seductive eyes gazing at him, teasingly, thoughtfully, while her tongue moistened her fine, red lips.
“How is my patient?” Her voice, penetratingly sexual and evocative, “I do hope you aren’t angry with me my darling.” The thin, unbuttoned doctor’s coat wisped around her as she closed the office door and wheeled the trolley towards his sweating, restrained form. Her black, stiletto shoes making soft noises in the luscious carpet as the mobile phone rang again. Anxiously, he grunted through the leather gag, quickly glancing over at his desk. “Oh my darling, I’m so sorry. You can’t answer the phone…can you?” Her voice, full of sarcasm! The phone ringing, again and again!
Once more he struggled against the restraints, trying to speak under the gag, his voice muffled, his frustration showing, his anger mounting as scornful laughter filled the office. Walking slowly over to his desk, the woman picked up the phone and looked at the name flashing on the facia.
It read;
‘ORATZ’.
“Yes, it’s him,” again, a chastising tone in her voice, her beautiful form, leisurely, seductively returning to stand in front of him. Slowly leaning down, her eyes met his, her tongue licking her moist lips, her eyes on fire with lust, and that tell tale sign…of demented mischief. “There is no need to speak to Wilhelm just yet my darling, is there? You’ve seen the news reports, all has gone according to plan, has it not? Besides, I have so much work to do.” He yelled under the gag, wrenching at the binds holding him so tightly, the leather bit inside his mouth keeping his tongue flat, stopping him from cursing aloud. Swiftly moving to the right of him, the beautiful, overtly sexual woman giggled like a spoilt schoolgirl, a jolt of pain rapidly running up her captive’s neck as her hand, in his thick mane of hair, roughly pulled him backwards. The ceiling came into view, her face close to his, menacingly smiling down at him. Then her tongue went to work. Across his forehead, down his right cheek into his ear, then her teeth, gently, ever so gently, nibbling his earlobe, her hot, moist breath sending tiny spasms of shivering delight through his body as his inner ear echoed with her voice. “Are you frightened Otto?” she whispered, her tone, dark, menacing, “are you, because you should be. Look at the needles, my darling. The thin, sharp, shiny needles. Ready to penetrate your body, to make you yell under the gag, to make you struggle…in pain. Yes my darling, it’s time for your treatment, and for me…to enjoy myself.” She released his hair. Panting heavily, he gazed again at her beautiful form, arrogantly parading in front of him, fully opening her white doctor’s coat to reveal her luscious figure, and the ever so seductive lingerie. “Do you like what you see, Otto?” By now, his whole body was covered in gleaming, glistening globules of perspiration. Gently, ever so slowly she leaned down, her left hand taking hold of his penis as it slowly started to swell, her face moving close to his. The curvature of her breasts was exquisite, her nipples standing rigid like over ripe cherries through the whiteness of her brassiere. God, how he longed to fondle and to suck them, the perfume on her body so evocative and tantalising. His nostrils flared with her essence, his senses so alive once again. “Where shall I start Otto?” she whispered again, her voice sultry, intimidating, “perhaps a thorough and intimate examination of your body?” A cruel smile ran across her face. How she loved control, to see her patients so helpless, the look in their eyes one of sexual frustration, and most of all…terror! “Or should I begin my work immediately? Oh…” she sighed, “decisions, decisions, and you’re so helpless…aren’t you?” Laughter again! Cold, sterile laughter, the metallic trolley and its contents in full view as her elegant, white clad form moved around him, her voice now behind his sweating body. “Pain and pleasure Otto, what a delightful combination, don’t you think?” Hastily leaning over him, her ponytail flicking across his face, she gripped his penis again and began to fondle, lasciviously, her kneading, pulling, stretching, making it thicken further, strengthening in size. Her hand squeezed. He grunted. More growth. “Are you being a very naughty boy? Oh yes, you are…aren’t you. Doctor Lana is very unhappy…” She giggled and kissed his forehead, his perspiration sticking to her lipstick, her tongue enjoying its salty taste. He gasped for breath as the phone rang again! “NO OTTO!” She squeezed hard, her grip making him jolt in the chair, his groaning much louder, his frustration building second by second. “BAD BOY!” How she was enjoying herself, “NO…LET IT RING!” Angrily, the beautiful woman walked over to her captive’s portable television and DVD recorder. Enticingly, she turned the screen to face him. “Now my darling, I have brought you a new recording. If you’re a good boy you can watch it with me, before I make you scream.” A sinister smile aligned her lips as daintily, with her white coat flowing, she moved to the surgical trolley and picked up a small, flat box.
