RED HAZE: A Werewolf Story for the 21st Century

by Ian Redman

  The other girl shook her head in dismay as Piper continued to listen, his eyebrows furrowing, the look on his face now one of desperate unease. “I feel so sorry for them, and now this idiot from the National Front says all the Muslims in Britain should be kicked out of the country. Lord help us if this sort of thing continues.”

  Just for a second Ash Piper felt both appalled and uncomfortable. Yes, he thought, this was only the beginning. Because of the scale of the terrorist bombings and the murdering of many innocent people, there would definitely be reprisals, and as usual…the innocent would suffer.

  “Take the next left, then the first right…”

  “Understood!”

  Nick Lucas smiled warmly as Charles Mann, Maurice Hertschell and Jeanette Descard intently followed the image positioned over a transparent map of Amsterdam’s inner city area, including the Jordaan.

  “Be advised Control,” Piper’s voice echoed across CEATA’s Communications Room, “I am being followed. There is definitely a threat in this area.”

  “Exactly as we predicted Red Haze.” Charles Mann spoke confidently through the Com-link attached to his right ear.

  With his footsteps quickening, Piper smiled, his mind drifting back several years to his time in the Parachute Regiment, and to an unruly weekend in the same city. It had been a colleague’s final night out before his wedding three days later. A riotous time indeed!

  “Okay Red Haze, you’re nearly there! Take a left and you should walk into Palmgracht, you’re looking for number 16.”

  “Affirmative!” Nick’s directions were perfect, the City now alive once again with people, hurrying to work or preparing for another day of sightseeing and general relaxation. Piper continued to move through the bustling throng, neatly dodging several Amsterdamers on their bicycles, his senses erupting once again, his vocal chords constricting. Oh no, he thought, not again! Not here!

  It was no good! The wolf spoke, another deep, rumbling growl reverberating from his dry throat. Thankfully, no one heard him, but Piper now knew the threat following him since his arrival at Schiphol was very real indeed, and most of all, from what his lupine instincts were telling him…the threat was deadly. “Red Haze to Control, destination acquired, I am preparing to enter.”

  “Confirmed, you are expected.” Maurice Hertschell had taken over the communication from CEATA Headquarters. He spoke calmly and with purpose, “remember Red Haze, the most important aspect of this visit is to gain information.”

  “Understood.” Piper pressed the button on the doorbell. A metallic voice answered through a wall-mounted loudspeaker. It was a woman’s voice, “yes!”

  “Red Haze!” With a loud click, the front door opened slightly and Piper walked in, the hairs on the back of his neck, still rigid.

  At the same time as Ash Piper entered the CEATA Safehouse, two things happened. Erik Karlson reported the safe arrival of CEATA Field Agent 038 and a man of German nationality, named Jochen Kreutz dialled a number on his mobile phone. He waited. Three rings passed by, then a voice answered, a voice he knew well. It was his colleague, Gerhard Maas. “We have the bastard,” he said. There was no reply as the line closed.

  “Prepare for retinal scan!” The metallic female voice echoed through the confines of the small hallway. Piper had expected this. He lowered his face slightly and with his amber eye, gazed into a small hollow in the wall. A dull white light emitted from the inside followed by a low-pitched humming sound. Piper knew what it was; a laser was tracing the retinal pattern of his left eye. “Scan accepted,” said the metallic voice, “Piper, Ashley, CEATA Field Agent 038 confirmed. Entry accepted.”

  Another heavy door slid open revealing a man and woman who stood waiting for him. Piper immediately noticed the woman’s good looks. He did not usually like short, cropped hair on females, but the style suited her, accentuating her high cheekbones. Piper guessed they were the agents from the BVD. He stepped through the main security door and shook hands with the blonde haired woman. She did not smile.

  “I am Nikki Van Burren,” she said, “and this gentleman is my colleague, Martin Roemer.”

  Piper shook hands with both. “Ash Piper, CEATA.” Piper was happy to confirm his organisation’s identity, as both agents had priority Level One clearance. “I’m sorry,” he continued, “but let’s dispense with pleasantries shall we? We don’t have much time.”

  He’s right thought Van Burren! The sooner we have the informant away from Amsterdam, the better.

  “So, where’s our man?” Piper’s voice was commanding.

  “He’s in the back room, with two police officers.” Martin Roemer walked down the main hallway, motioning Piper to follow him.

  Safehouses, thought Piper, they’re always the same, either miniature fortresses or, as this one, a perfectly normal looking household with bullet proof windows all around and deadly secrets hidden inside. But the house seemed well decorated, and from what he could tell, quite welcoming. It was certainly comfortable enough for a quick overnight stay. But that was not to be the case today. As Piper prepared to meet with

  the Neo Nazi thug, as the Colonel had described their ‘guest’, he turned into the main dining area, quickly noticing three smartly dressed men.

  Of a thug, there was no sign!

  One of the plain clothed police officers walked over. “Good morning! I am Inspector Peter Halse, Amsterdam Police Authority, this is Inspector Stefan Schuyler.” Piper briskly shook hands with the two men. “Thank you for coming so quickly, this matter is obviously of great importance.”

  “Of course,” replied Piper, courteously.

  “Right, let’s get down to business, time is moving on.” The urgency in Nikki Van Burren’s voice was not lost on Piper, who had immediately noticed how smartly dressed the young man sitting in front of him appeared. Piper turned quickly to Van Burren and Roemer. “I take it you are armed?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Van Burren replied.

  “Hand weapons only, I presume?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right, we need more firepower, find it, quickly!”

  Instantly, Van Burren and Roemer knew something was amiss. They had noticed the look in Piper’s blue and amber eyes. It was a look of warning, signifying imminent danger. “Just what the hell is going on?” Van Burren’s voice was slightly raised, angry!

  Piper turned his head and gazed at her, his eyes seemingly on fire. He was in no mood for arguments. He spoke quickly, “I have been followed, ever since I landed at Schiphol.”

  “WHAT!” Martin Roemer was not amused, “GOD, SHIT!”

  Van Burren walked over to Piper, her face just inches from his. “YOU IDIOT,” she yelled, “YOU’VE MOST PROBABLY COMPROMISED THIS SAFEHOUSE!” Suddenly, Van Burren pulled back and gasped, her eyes staring into Piper’s, the look on his face making Van Burren’s skin crawl. She had overstepped her authority!

  “LISTEN TO ME, MS VAN BURREN,” Piper spat his words out, his voice quickly becoming calmer, his message getting through, “this Safehouse would have been compromised anyway. Now we have a chance to find out who our enemy is, and to take the fight back to them.”

  “And just how do we do that, Mister Piper,” she said, sarcastically.

  Ignoring the suggested sarcasm, Piper spoke sternly. “We use the tactics of warfare,” a look of violence sat burning in Piper’s blue and amber eyes. “To know your enemy,” he said, “you first draw them in!”

  Martin Roemer nodded his head, accepting Piper’s authority. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Prepare for combat! We probably have only minutes left.”

  The two BVD officers moved to what seemed to be a very ordinary cupboard, over in the far left of the dining room. Van Burren pressed a button, the cupboard door sliding smoothly open, revealing a large array of weaponry.

  “Colonel, tell Nick I will be transmitting in seconds, we have to get this right first time.” Piper was growing anxious as he continued his communication with CEATA Head
quarters. He knew time was swiftly running out!

  “Very well Red Haze, we are monitoring the situation.” Charles Mann replied, nodding to Nick Lucas who continued typing swiftly at his keyboard.

  “Come on baby, COME ON!” With perspiration dripping from his forehead, Nick wore a troubled look on his face. He couldn’t let Ash down, he thought, no way!

  “We have to pick this recording up first time Nick, we’re all depending on you.”

  “Yeah, I know Colonel!”

  Charles Mann looked across at CEATA’s Commander in Chief. “Well Maurice” he muttered, “it’s time to get some answers.”

  There! The young girl carrying the shopping! She was nearing the front door. Excellent, thought Jochen Kreutz, now sitting in a nearby café. He would follow her in, the timing being perfect! He knew the enemy was also in the same building, on the third floor. During the last twenty minutes or so he had observed the light mesh curtain parting…ever so slightly. The enemy’s Safehouse had an observer, one to call in backup if required. That could not be allowed to happen, not now! Whoever was in that room had to be silenced, and quickly!

  Just minutes earlier, Jochen had deftly finished attaching a suppressor to his SIG-Sauer P226 handgun, now safely under his jacket, the café’s small latrine having served him well. Menacingly, a twisted leer crossed the young German’s face as he slowly rose from his chair, throwing down the copy of the magazine he had been pretending to read. Hastily, he walked outside. It was time to kill again!

  “Your name,” asked Piper, “quickly man, quickly!”

  “Michael De Groot.”

  “You are local, from Amsterdam, yes?”

  “Yes.” The nervous looking ‘thug’ sat in front of Piper was probably around twenty years of age, smartly dressed and well spoken.

  “Nick, are you picking this up?” The small satellite recorder was held close to De Groot’s face. Piper was anxious, a slow trickle of sweat running down his left temple, the back of his neck burning, the hairs stiffening. Not long now, he thought, until violence.

  “No problem,” replied Nick Lucas, “keep him talking.”

  Piper did keep the man talking. Michael De Groot was a member of the Dutch Right Wing Fascist Party, a small political group, seemingly of no major importance, until now. “You say your party has been visited by a stranger several times, and various members have left because of his visits.” Piper pushed De Groot further, quickly, efficiently, his questions being straight to the point. They had to be!

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Good morning,” said Jochen, “here, let me help you.”

  “Oh…thank you.” The petite girl was just putting the key in the door lock of the three-storey house. “I haven’t seen you around here before, are you local?” she said, inquisitively.

  Jochen smiled, “oh yes, I am just visiting a friend on the third floor. I have a little surprise for him.” Again the smile, so charming, so sincere, so…deadly! Holding out his right arm in a friendly gesture, Jochen took the girl’s shopping.

  “You’re very kind,” she replied, returning his charming smile. The door opened and the girl stepped in, the young German closely following. He closed the door behind them, placed the bags on the floor and pushed the safety lock upwards. The door was securely locked, from the inside.

  “What are you doing?” the girl said, her voice beginning to tremble. No one in the house would have heard the shot, the suppressor perfectly muffling the launch of the bullet as the girl’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor, a thin stain of crimson trickling down the wallpaper behind her. The shot was neat, straight through her heart. At least it was quick, thought Jochen. Swiftly he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his mobile phone and highlighted Gerhard’s telephone number.

  “And this man travels across Europe, recruiting for his new political group?” Ash Piper continued the questioning with the people around him, fully armed and prepared for combat.

  “Yes! Listen, I am sorry about the bombings, I didn’t think they were serious.” De Groot was clearly shaken thought Piper, and thoroughly scared to death. “I didn’t want women and children killed. Oh shit man, I’ve got to get away, they’ll kill me for sure!”

  “Listen,” Piper grabbed De Groot’s lapel, his powerful eyes staring fixedly at the shaking man sat in front him, “we will get you away, now concentrate on my questions. Give me a description of the man who is recruiting, anything, his height, colour of hair, distinguishing marks, anything damn it!” Piper’s breathing was heavier, his eyes becoming bloodshot. Only seconds to go, he thought.

  The wolf was preparing for the kill, and just for the moment, for these last few seconds, he had to control it!

  “Ready when you are,” said Jochen, his voice just a whisper. He was speaking through his mobile phone, at the bottom of the staircase that would take him to the third floor apartment, and his target.

  “We are nearly in position, two more minutes...” Gerhard’s voice was calm and collected. He was in the passenger seat of one of two locally based transit vans. Normally the vans would have been used for the delivery of goods to various cafés and restaurants in the area, but this time the grenadiers had made sure their owner and his business colleague would never use them again. In a small office, in the back streets of Amsterdam, they lay dead. The well-trained terrorist’s suppressed weapons being used with precision, leaving neat, single bullet holes through their target’s chests. As usual, there was no remorse. “Our vehicles will not be detected until it is too late,” said Gerhard.

  “Good.” Jochen looked down at his watch and started the countdown. “Remember our new instructions. We no longer take chances trying to capture the deserter.” Jochen’s smile said everything. It was cold and calculating. Death was literally minutes away. “We kill them all!”

  “Understood!”

  “…a sort of birthmark, on his lower neck, just to the right. He hides most of it under the collar of his shirts.” Michael De Groot’s face was contorted with fear.

  “GO ON,” yelled Piper, “QUICKLY!”

  “He’s quite tall, thin, with brownish hair. He doesn’t give a name, he just gives details of meetings. We all attend, the strongest are chosen. The ones who hate the immigrants the most! Oh shit, I don’t know, please get me out!”

  “ANYTHING ELSE? COME ON FOR GOD’S SAKE, WE NEED THIS INFORMATION!” Too late! Piper’s vision was blurring, becoming red. “SHIT, WE’VE GOT COMPANY!” Now it wasn’t Piper’s normal voice speaking, it was a low monotoned growl, his voice deepening, ready to unleash the predator inside him. “GRAB YOUR WEAPONS! WE NEED COVER! VAN BURREN, ROEMER, USE THE TABLES. HALSE, SCHUYLER, GET UP THE STAIRS, QUICKLY! THEY’LL COME IN THROUGH THE ROOF!” They moved in unison, weapons at the ready. All had M16 assault rifles, noise reducing earphones and their handguns. “RED HAZE TO CONTROL, DO YOU COPY?”

  “Go ahead Red Haze,” Colonel Mann’s voice was defiant. The plan had worked.

  “NO FURTHER COMMUNICATION POSSIBLE! MAILED FIST, I REPEAT, MAILED FIST!”

  The two transit vans pulled up just behind the Safehouse. With his mobile phone still switched on Gerhard spoke to Jochen, “we move, NOW!”

  “Affirmative.” Jochen finished the call and looked up the staircase. Gripping his silenced P226 tightly in both hands, he slowly, carefully began walking up to the third floor.

  “PILLOW TALK ONE, MAILED FIST, I REPEAT, MAILED FIST!”

  “Copy Control, out!” The plan had worked perfectly! The enemy had been drawn in! Quickly moving to the side of his apartment door, Erik Karlson pulled the butt of his Heckler and Koch MP5 Sub Machine Gun tightly into his shoulder and prepared to fire. You’re not having me you bastards, he thought.

  “THEY’LL USE C4 TO BLOW THE DOORS AND WILL BE WEARING BODY ARMOUR. AIM FOR FLESH AND MAKE EVERY SHOT COUNT,” yelled Piper, “GET YOUR EARPHONES ON AND PREPARE FOR CONCUSSIVE EFFECT!” The occupants in the Safehouse were ready for combat.

  “OH
GOD, PLEASE HELP ME!” It was De Groot, now a quivering wreck of a man, rolled up behind one of the tables.

  “SHUT THE FUCK UP,” shouted Nikki Van Burren.

  Piper released the safety catch and brought the ironsight of his M16 into view. Leaning out from an upturned table, his heartbeat racing, he focused his blood red field of vision on the inner front door. “If you want us, you bastards,” he whispered, “then come and fucking get us!”

  “Red Haze, Red Haze, do you copy?”

  “CONTROL, CLEAR THE AIR, CLOSE OUT COMMUNICATION.”

  “We’ve got back up on the way! They’ll be with you in five minutes!”

  “WE DON’T FUCKING HAVE FIVE MINUTES!”

  Dressed in dark grey camouflaged outfits, with black balaclavas covering their heads and Kevlar body armour protecting their chest areas, the grenadiers moved quickly, splitting into two groups.

  “Hey…?”

  An idiot passer by thought Gerhard. “FUCK OFF!” he yelled, slamming the butt of his machine pistol into the man’s nose. There was a sickening crunch as a girl screamed. “BREACH THE DOOR!” A grenadier placed the C4, the explosives primed to blow the front of the house away. “KEEP CLEAR!” The grenadiers leant beside the wall. There was a huge explosion, a massive shockwave erupting across the street, hurling innocent people through the air. “KILL THEM ALL!” shouted Gerhard.

  The assault was instantaneous.

  Jochen kicked open the door on the third floor apartment, only to be met by a hail of gunfire smashing through the wood, a high pitched scream echoing across the hallway.

  “Got you, you bastard!” Breathing heavily, with sweat drenching his body, Erik Karlson moved slowly, carefully around the door, his MP5 close to his line of sight. Only one of them, he thought, be careful…just be careful. He heard groaning. Yes, only the one, he’d hit him! Karlson quickly stepped out into the hallway.