by Ian Redman
“Well, at least that’s a start,” said Nick. “Okay everyone, let’s retrace once again and kick people’s backsides. We need that info and we need it now!” The communications staff at CEATA Headquarters moved into overdrive.
“I’ll take this info to the Commander and Colonel,” said Piper, briskly walking off with the printouts.
Slowly, Nick rose from his chair and walked over to Jeanette Descard, his concentration distracted by the look of intense concentration set on her pretty face.
“Doctor Descard, are you okay, you just seem very quiet?” Nick paused. Jeanette was staring into space, “something’s on your mind, isn’t it?”
“What…oh, no! I’m fine Nick, really, I’m fine.”
“No you’re not, c’mon Jeanette,” it was rare for Nick to call CEATA’s Chief Criminal Psychologist by her first name, but he was concerned, “we’ve worked together now for over a year. I know you, what’s up?”
“Nick, will you do me a very big favour?”
He grinned at her boyishly, knowing that he would. Nick Lucas would do anything for Doctor Jeanette Descard, “sure, what do you want me to do?”
“Well,” Jeanette drew close and lowered her voice; her Anglo French accent as charming as ever, “I want you to run a thorough ID/medical record check on any, how shall I say…influential, white Europeans with a birthmark or blemish under their right jaw line.”
“What! Shit Jeanette, that could take days, we’ll just be chasing shadows, and for what reason?”
“It’s very simple my dear little computer genius, whoever is running this terrorist organisation has a great deal of financial backing.”
“Ah, I see, let me guess, you want me to run med checks on the…‘bigwigs’ of society? The elite, powerful and rich?”
Jeanette flicked her hair back and gently nodded her head, “correct Mister Lucas. As we are all well aware, this invasion of Iraq excuse for the atrocities is utter rubbish. With the evidence we’ve already gathered, I think we’ll find that someone in Europe is behind this, someone who is very, very rich!”
Nick shrugged his shoulders, “okay, I’ll get onto it! You’ll have to inform the Commander about this.”
“I know, I intend to do so right now!” Hurriedly, Jeanette vacated the Communications Room as Nick quickly moved back to his desk.
As he did so, Jean-Paul turned to him, his hands clutching several printed reports. “More ID checks are coming in Nick. We have five from Europol and two from the Israelis.”
“Good, take the info over to the Commander will you Jean-Paul, I’ve got work to do.”
“I am telling you, if you ask the vast majority of the British public about their thoughts on Islamics and Immigrants, they will say…” Jonathon White paused for just a few seconds, hopefully gaining maximum impact for his final comment “…throw them out of the country!”
There was uproar in the Studio as Trisha Spalding, the host for the British Broadcasting Company’s ‘Live Panorama Special Report’ appealed for calm from the enraged audience.
John Winstanley, representing Britain’s Labour Government could hardly be heard over the commotion as he spoke, his face angry, livid. “That sort of comment will get tensions rising and is completely unacceptable, now apologise to the Muslim community Jonathon!”
“Please, can we have calm ladies and gentlemen, calm please.” Trisha was doing her best to quell the feeling of unease in the studio.
“No, I most certainly will not! It’s about time the British people starting standing up for themselves and their rights.”
Trisha Spalding, her voice now showing distinct irritation, spoke abruptly, “Jonathon, those comments are both libellous and shameful. The BBC cannot, and will not accept slander like that on this programme.”
“This man is stirring up a hornet’s nest.” Jeanette Descard turned to Ash Piper. Both were sat alone, watching the debate in her office.
“Mmmm! The British National Party! They’ll certainly have a few words to say about immigration in Britain.!” Piper sighed.
“Well Ash, it’s starting, the retribution and hate. We’ve already viewed rioting in Paris and Brussels and now we have idiots like this inciting racial hatred across the UK.”
“Yes, Mister White must be very pleased with himself. It’s only a matter of time before the organised violence starts.” Piper’s sarcastic tone was unmistakable.
“Switch it off please Ash, I’ve seen enough of this rubbish!”
The day had dragged. Nick and his team were still busy. Further ID reports had been confirmed, checked and double-checked, but to no avail, with Commander Hertschell having also agreed to Doctor Descard’s plan for medical ID checks on influential members of the public across mainland Europe.
But the scenario was still, in many ways a waiting game for CEATA, with everyone knowing tensions were rising, and the clock…ticking.
The patient’s heart had stopped beating. The pain had been unbearable, but for Doctor Franke the surgery had been a minor success. The throes of the patient’s agony had been filmed extremely well. She was certain her lover would enjoy the footage, having worked on her captive slowly, painfully, the patient struggling wonderfully against the straps. She liked that, the will to live, the will to go on, even whilst undergoing such intense agony. She smiled. Oh, how she enjoyed testing her medical skills. Ever since the first days of cutting through human flesh during her time of study at Hanover Medical University, Lana Franke had become fascinated with all aspects of pain, especially the pain of her own patients.
Briskly the attractive physician pulled off her latex gloves and threw them in the blood soaked metallic bowl, both scalpels having been used to maximum effect, the clamps and other devices too. Now it was time to get rid of the body and freshen up. Lazily, she switched the video camera off and reached for her mobile phone.
“Maurice? Good…I have finished with the patient. Yes, I have to leave quickly for an important meeting. Just dispose of the body in the usual way and ask Ann to clean the theatre. Yes, your money will be paid into the usual account…yes…no problem!” She closed the line and began untying her gore stained surgical gown. Vile man she thought, glancing up at the large clock on the wall. Good, plenty of time for a relaxing shower before her flight to Innsbruck.
With a thrill of anticipation welling up inside her, making her heart beat that little faster, Lana smiled to herself. She had not set foot in Otto’s Castle for nearly six months. Camelot she thought, how wonderful it will be to stay there again. Pulling the bolt back across the metallic door of her operating theatre, Doctor Franke walked happily up the concrete steps and back into the Parisian house she adored so very much.
“Okay, we’ve got twenty three IDs from medical records across Europe, all with birthmarks either on or around their right jaw line. All these people are highly influential in one way or another.” Nick Lucas sat with his senior CEATA colleagues in Maurice Hertschell’s office.
“Well done Nick. Right, let’s get to work on any…” Jeanette Descard paused as she gazed around the room, everyone looking sombre and tired, “…suspects.” They studied and deliberated for over two hours, reviewing various files on businessmen and women, politicians, a football player and an actor, but all seemingly to no avail.
“As I said Doctor Descard,” apparently not amused, Nick threw a set of papers onto the coffee table in the middle of the Commander’s office, “shadows, we’re just chasing shadows. None of these people fit the criteria of a supporter of terrorism, this is just…well…plain stupid!”
“Relax everyone, relax.” Charles Mann, clearly frustrated, carefully thumbed through his own wad of papers. “Just tell me something Nick, how large a company are Von Kurst Electronics?”
“Hey…oh, sorry Colonel, yeah, they’re a huge microchip production company. They have offices and manufacturing sites across Europe, I think their head office is in Dusseldorf, yeah, it is! Why?”
“Oh, just casual interes
t. I see this chap named Oratz, Wilhelm Oratz, has a birthmark recorded on his medical records, but you can hardly see it on this photograph we have of him, it’s mostly covered by his shirt collar.”
“I had thought the same sir,” Piper interrupted, “but if memory serves me correct, this businessman has been on television, in newspapers, financial magazines, the list is endless!”
“Yeah, Ash is right sir! Von Kurst Electronics are well respected, believe me.” Nick leaned over the coffee table and picked up his set of, by now, well-ruffled papers. He flicked through them again and gazed down at the photograph of the German businessman. “Mmm, interesting…” he muttered.
“What’s that Nick?”
“Nothing sir, just something of casual interest.”
“I see! Jeanette, we have definitely clarified all the criminal IDs haven’t we?”
“Yes sir, there’s still nothing to go on, certainly as far as I’m concerned.”
Silence enveloped the room. Already further scenes of unrest, small, but intense riots, led by young white males against local immigrants, had been televised on various news channels. Governments across Europe were now becoming increasingly concerned, and so too, were many local Muslim communities. The situation was definitely developing into what Jeanette Descard had previously called ‘a tinderbox scenario’.
“Right everyone, keep looking at those records, our friends at Interpol, Europol etcetera are doing the same. Damn it all! If we just had something else to go on!” Maurice Hertschell sighed. Like all around him, he knew the terrorists held the upper hand, with CEATA being currently helpless in halting further atrocities.
But what frustrated Ash Piper the most was that unbeknown to his colleagues, he had a suspicion his nightmares were linked to the terrorists, but just how…he wasn’t sure!
But one thing was for certain…deep inside his subconscious; the wolf had been talking to him again!
“Hey Ash…Ash, c’mon man, wake up!” Nick Lucas was on the verge of shouting. “C’MON, WAKE UP ASH!”
Ash Piper turned over and lazily looked up at the bespectacled young man shaking his shoulders. “Nick, this had better be good!”
“Good, GOOD! Ash, you’ve gotta see what I’ve just found out!”
Piper looked at the clock. Four fourteen a.m., he had slept for just over three hours, but strangely did not feel tired. Perhaps it was seeing Nick so thoroughly excited, he thought.
“C’mon, quickly. I’ll meet you back at my desk.” Nick vanished out into the corridor.
Within seconds, Piper hurriedly got dressed, left his bedroom and followed his friend. He was intrigued.
“Okay, what’s up?”
Excitedly slurping a mouthful of Coke through a straw, Nick looked up at Piper. “Right, here’s the deal. You know this Oratz guy we’ve been talking about?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he’s the Sales Director and one of the board members of Von Kurst Electronics, right?”
Piper sighed. “Nick, I don’t mean to sound rude, but we all know that, will you please get to the point!”
“Okay, okay, right,” the young Canadian could hardly control himself, his arms moving frantically whilst he spoke, “yeah…right, so we have Von Kurst Electronics, who, because of their microchip manufacturing background, are big in the world of computers, right?” Nick grinned, “and you know me Ash, I’ve always had a very ‘unhealthy’ interest in computer technology, so I decided to check these guys out.”
“Yes, go on.”
“Okay, okay…”
Piper sighed again.
“Now then, Von Kurst Electronics are giants in the microchip processing industry. They manufacture and supply microchips for mobile phones, computers and in some cases even satellites, you get my drift?”
“Yes Nick…please, get to the point!”
“Right, VKE, as I shall call them from now on, have offices and factories in Dusseldorf, Munich, Zurich, and Rome.”
“Okay, fine!” Piper graciously nodded in acceptance of Nick’s ‘miraculous revelations’. For God’s sake Nick, get on with it, he thought.
“Now, they also have their main warehouse facility, which is the size of four American football pitches, just fourteen kilometres east of the city of Aachen, near the Belgian border and the Ardennes.”
Piper was suddenly becoming more than a little intrigued. “Fine Nick, what are you getting at?”
“C’mon Ash, what does the City of Aachen mean to you, of all people?”
Piper rubbed his left hand under his chin. Yes, there was something about Aachen and its recent history, he thought.
“I’m disappointed in you Ash, c’mon, Aachen, THINK!” Nick typed at his keyboard and pressed the return key. A website featuring the history of the city came into view.
“Near the end of the Second World War,” Nick’s voice was quivering with excitement, “the Americans appointed a new Lord Mayor in the city, once the Nazi’s had left.”
Piper continued to nod his head, his hand still very slowly rubbing his chin.
“Ash, don’t you remember, the Lord Mayor was assassinated the night before his first major speech to the people of the city. His speech was to bring them hope for the future.”
Piper said nothing, his memory flashing back to his days at college and his World War Two studies.
“Ash, the assassins were a group of Nazi Partisans, known as…” Nick paused, his eyes bright, mischievous, “THE WEREWOLVES! I watched a documentary about this on TV just a few months ago! It just clicked man, when I saw where VKE’s warehouse was located.”
“Yes, I remember, all hell had broken loose in Germany and the Werewolves numbered approximately five thousand strong, including members of the Hitler Youth.”
“Correct! Nice to see the old grey matter whirling back into action Ash!”
“Nick,” said Piper, “this is just coincidence!”
“Coincidence my ass Sergeant, now, here’s the real icing on the cake.” Nick typed again at his keyboard, “take a look at this!”
“Nick…this is archived information, where did you…oh shit! What have you been doing?”
The happy faced Canadian flexed his fingers, his knuckles cracking as he did so. “You know me Ash, ‘Mister Computer Hacker Extraordinaire’. I ran checks on various archival museums in Germany and managed to hack into this one! Now then, where was I, oh yeah, Otto Von Kurst’s father, the founder of VKE, was Karl Von Kurst, right?”
“Fine!”
“He was born in Dortmund, on the fourteenth of July, 1912.”
“Keep going!”
“Karl Von Kurst died suddenly just over two years ago. No one knows how, in fact, there was a rumour going around that he had apparently committed suicide. He was one of Europe’s richest men and a very influential businessman.”
“Okay, so the poor bloke committed suicide, caused probably by stress and pressure from everything he had created with VKE, or he quite simply died of old age.”
“No chance my friend! No way! This man was either hiding from, or was frightened of something.”
“Nick,” Piper sighed a little hint of frustration, “the man was in his nineties for god’s sake!”
“Yeah, fine, but why did Karl Von Kurst never allow his photograph to be taken by any newspapers and magazines during the last thirty odd years or so of his life?”
Piper nodded his head thoughtfully, recognising Nick had so far made some sense, but now he was lost! “Sorry Nick, I’m not with you!”
“He became a recluse. There is something wrong here Ash, I know it!” Nick tapped again at his keyboard as further archived information appeared on his monitor. “I’ve also found out that during the Second World War, Karl Von Kurst served as a Sturmbannfuhrer on the Russian Front.”
“A Major.”
“Correct, a Major… with the Totenkopf Division!”
“SHIT!” Piper’s heart started to race, “the Death’s Head Division.”
“Now, you’re getting my drift Ash! The Death’s Head Division… of the Waffen SS! That division was notorious for its brutality during the Second World War”.
“Yes,” replied Piper, thoughtfully, “the Totenkopf were originally formed from former concentration camp guards.” In some ways thought Piper, Nick’s revelations were starting to make sense! They had a photo identity of a key player within Von Kurst Electronics, who matched that of the description given by the informer at the Safehouse and the Werewolf connection to the city of Aachen made Piper’s skin crawl, let alone the Von Kurst connection to Nazi Germany’s Waffen SS. “You know something Mister Lucas; you might just be onto something! Anyway, it’s the best lead we’ve had so far.” Piper patted Nick on his back, “well done,” he said, “WELL BLOODY DONE!” Piper’s mind raced into overdrive, “so how long will it take for you to position a Recon Satellite over the VKE warehouse facility?”
“Oh! Err…I don’t know! I’ll have to ask permission from the Commander first, we may have to ask the Langley guys for help, but probably about five to six hours I should think.”
“Don’t worry about the Commander, I’ll ask him right now, you just get the nearest satellite moving my friend, and fast.” Briskly, Piper walked out of the Communications Room towards Commander Hertschell’s Office. All of a sudden, he thought, I’m becoming very interested in Mister Wilhelm Oratz and Von Kurst Electronics!”
13
BLACK CAMELOT
Dateline: 02 March 1945 - 10.40 Hours
Location: Wewelsburg Castle, the Teutoburg Forest, Germany
The dirt track would have been inaccessible if the snow had not thawed, but thankfully the three cars and their passengers had nearly arrived at their destination.
“At least the snow is thawing, that is something to be thankful for Herr Sturmbannfuhrer.” The driver of the black Mercedes Benz saloon glanced into his rear view mirror. There was no sign of a pleasant smile and no hint of humour, his conversation as always being flat and singular. That was the way it should be when chauffeuring senior staff of the SS, never try to be too friendly. That was always the best way…to stay alive.
