The Lure of the Pack

by Ian Redman

  “Gentlemen, think back to about eight months ago. Didn’t the British and French governments have an unholy row with the Kremlin regarding espionage in their countries, espionage controlled by the SVR?”

  “Yes they did,” Colonel Mann spoke quietly, “the SVR’s so called diplomats were actually smuggling out various copies of stolen European defence documents in briefcases…briefcases, which upon investigation had a section impervious to scanning by airport security systems.”

  “Yes…I remember,” said the Commander, “well, it is obvious Messrs Oratz and Von Kurst are involved in something sinister, as for the possible connection to the SVR and Russian Mafia, only time will tell.”

  “So what now Commander?” asked Jeanette.

  “Sergeant Piper, what do you think?”

  “We can’t just pull them in, there is far too much at stake. They must be rattled anyway; they know we’re onto them.”

  “So Sergeant, your suggestions please?”

  Piper sat back and folded his arms, “we have a small army most probably controlled by Von Kurst and Oratz hiding across Europe, an army doubtless ready to strike again! If we bring these two in now, Lord knows what retribution could engulf Europe. I suggest three things sir!”

  “And these are?”

  “We utilise CEATA Followers, to monitor every movement Von Kurst and Oratz make, to stick with them both, like glue…”

  “Agreed…” The Commander nodded his head, “and?”

  “We order Nick to hack into the Von Kurst Electronics databases at their head office in Dusseldorf, just to see if there are any clues as to what these people are up to.”

  “And…”

  “I personally need to meet Otto Von Kurst and Wilhelm Oratz…face to face.”

  3

  HATE

  “…interestingly enough, political parties are distancing themselves from the march, except of course for the organisers themselves, the British National Party. However, the consequences of the event remain to be seen. Sky News will have on the spot coverage of the March Against Immigrants from six a.m. tomorrow morning, and from what we’ve already heard, it should be a very interesting day. This is Mathew Walsh, hovering over Hyde Park in London, onboard the Sky News Helicopter.”

  “I don’t believe it!” It was 06.20 the following morning as Nick Lucas turned his gaze away from the television in the CEATA canteen’s dining area.

  “What don’t you believe Nick?” asked Jean-Paul.

  “Approximately forty to sixty thousand people are expected to join this so called, March Against Immigrants in London,” Nick sighed, took another mouthful of Coca Cola and slowly shook his head, “it’s plain crazy!”

  “And they’re expecting even more in Munich, let alone Paris and Rotterdam,” Ash Piper sounded in buoyant mood as he quietly joined the two young CEATA computer Intel experts.

  “Hey Ash, how’s it going?”

  Nick, as usual, wore his pleasant smile as Piper sat down across from them, “I trust you gentlemen are ready for a busy day?”

  “We are indeed, Sergeant Piper,” replied Jean-Paul.

  “Good, because with any luck, within the next couple of hours or so, you’re going to be very busy indeed.”

  “Oh!” Nick stopped slurping his Coke and looked captivatingly at his friend, “why, what’s up?”

  “It seems our VKE security guard has finally come to his senses and is ready to talk. Jeanette is with him now.”

  “Lucky man,” replied Nick. The three smiled together.

  “Claude,” Otto Von Kurst spoke with authority into his mobile phone, “I trust you have arrived back safely?”

  “Yes, my Fuhrer.”

  “Good! I have to leave in an hour or so, I need to be in the office on Monday morning and have a great deal to do beforehand.” Von Kurst paused, as if his mind was on other matters, “as we agreed, Jochen will stay here with our small contingent of grenadiers. He will monitor and report directly to me once the detonations begin.”

  “I understand, my Fuhrer.”

  “Now, you know what to do?”

  “I shall implement Runed Lightning immediately.”

  “Destroy all records Bescann, we cannot take any chances.”

  “Of course.”

  “How long before you and your grenadiers will be finished?” Otto Von Kurst was concerned; time was of the essence.

  “I would estimate between five to six hours.”

  “Very well! Remember, wipe the hard drive and destroy the computer. Once the training area is stripped down and you have loaded the weapons, drive directly to the Safehouse in Strasbourg. Do not, I repeat, do not leave there until I have spoken to you, is that understood?”

  “Yes, my Fuhrer.”

  “Good! Have you anything further to report before we finish this conversation?”

  “Our Scharfuhrers have given their final recon reports regarding the proposed routes for the marches; all locations for the devices are confirmed. Our extra detachments have also finalised the other fifty locations. All devices will be in place, ready for staggered detonations from Sunday afternoon.”

  “Excellent, and the newspapers will be contacted as usual?”

  “Of course my Fuhrer, all on behalf of the European Muslim Freedom Fighters.”

  “Well done Bescann, I shall await with great anticipation, the viewing of further carnage on my television screen. Now, for your information, Wilhelm has reconfirmed the flight passage for the Learjet on Monday and will meet with Vitali on Monday evening.”

  “That is good news indeed.” Claude Bescann’s heart was thumping, for he and his ten grenadiers on location at his farmhouse had a great deal to complete, and quickly.

  “Work with haste Bescann, we cannot afford to take any chances and remember, leave no evidence. I will be in contact soon enough, that is all!” Slowly, Otto Von Kurst’s commanding gaze moved across the rows of television screens in the New Totenkopf’s Operations Centre, all tuned into various news channels throughout Europe. Gently replacing his mobile phone on his desk, his gaze moved to the main, large plasma screen in front of him, his thoughts quickly wandering back to the infiltration of the VKE warehouse facility. He clenched his fists tightly and sneered, his eyes aglow with wild hatred. Where are you lone wolf he thought, where are you…and what are you planning?

  With his face set like stone, Claude Bescann picked up the small portable radio transmitter in his office and held it close to his face, “Josef, come in!” There was a hint of crackling static as Bescann waited for the expected reply. He spoke again, “Josef, come in!” The reply came.

  “Josef here, Herr Standartenfuhrer.”

  “Runed Lightning,” said Bescann.

  There was a moment’s silence then the grenadier named Josef replied, the tone of his voice full of urgency, “we are on our way!” Bescann sat back, turned to the computer on his desk and switched it on.

  “Ash?” asked Nick, the two men walking hurriedly towards the CEATA Communications Room.

  “Yes Nick.”

  “Why do people hate each other so much?”

  Piper looked puzzled. “That’s a very astute question, and one that is very difficult to answer my friend, why do you ask?”

  “Well, since I started working here, I’ve seen and heard about so much violence and now…” they turned left, down another corridor, “these recent riots and murders against immigrants, it just seems so unnecessary and so…cruel!”

  “Yes, go on,” muttered Piper.

  “Well, I just keep wondering, why the hell can’t people get on with each other? There just seems to be so much hate…everywhere!”

  “Have you asked Jean-Paul this question?”

  “Err…no, I just thought I’d ask you, especially with your background, I mean, well…you’ve seen and been part of, well…lots of violence and hate, haven’t you?” Piper didn’t reply, he just kept walking, his face solemn as the two turned right, down another corridor. “Sorry As
h, I didn’t mean to, well, you know…” Nick halted, so did Piper.

  “Forget it Nick, what I did in the Ardennes was purely for survival.”

  “I understand,” said Nick, quietly, “but Ash, tell me something…”

  “Yet another question?” Piper raised an eyebrow, the look on his face, perplexing.

  “Yeah, sort of…Ash, when you were hunting the men in the forest, did you…hate them?”

  There was a sudden silence between the two as Piper looked around, acknowledging various CEATA staff members passing them by. Then he stared icily at his colleague, “Yes Nick, I did hate them.”

  “Oh…” Nick looked startled, “…but the man you saved, he was so frightened. I mean…we were all watching him, using thermal vision, he was soaked in his own urine!” Nick faltered, his words seemingly lost, the look on his bespectacled face one of deep anguish.

  “Nick, what are you getting at?” Gently, Piper put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “Why did you save that man Ash, was it because you felt sorry for him?”

  Piper sighed, “you are a very sentimental young man Mister Lucas. If there were more people like you, the world would be a better place to live in.” Piper hesitated, the look in his eyes one of cold intensity, “and my answer to that question is no Nick, I didn’t save the man because I felt sorry for him.”

  “Oh, so it was because he could help with intelligence…that’s why you saved him?” Piper walked on, “that’s correct.”

  “And if he couldn’t have helped with intelligence Ash,” Nick shouted down the corridor, “WHAT THEN?”

  The loud, distinctive reply came without hesitation, “HE WAS A COMBATANT NICK, SO I’D HAVE KILLED HIM.”

  The man named Josef looked fixedly at Claude Bescann, “are the authorities onto us?”

  “Quite possibly. We have new orders from the Fuhrer himself and they must be carried out with haste.”

  “We understand, Herr Standartenfuhrer.” The ten grenadiers, left on detachment at the New Totenkopf’s training area known simply as The Farmhouse, knew the significance of the codeword given to them.

  “Runed Lightning must be implemented immediately,” continued Bescann, “the camouflage netting over the target range must be pulled down, the assault course dismantled and the weaponry stowed in the van. We cannot leave any evidence of our training here.” Bescann looked at his watch, “I told the Fuhrer five to six hours, that’s all the time we have before we leave for Strasbourg, now get moving!” The grenadiers bowed their heads, clicked their heels in salute and quickly left the room. As they did so, Bescann turned to his computer and began wiping the memory from its hard drive. Runed Lightning he thought, the total removal of all evidence of the New Totenkopf’s training at his retirement farmhouse. It was only to be implemented in an emergency, and obviously the Fuhrer thought such an emergency had arisen. Bescann sat back in his chair. He was beginning to sweat. This is bad news he thought, very bad indeed.

  “How I HATE you!” Lana Franke stood over the naked form of Helga Zeist, “you have ruined…EVERYTHING!” She folded her arms, looking her helpless, sedated patient up and down, then turned her gaze to the bowl of hot soapy water…and the sponge. “Well my darling, as I told you before…” she stooped, her face meeting Helgas, “…I’m not letting him go.” With a trace of a mischievous smile, the beautiful physician gently kissed her patient’s lips, “it is such a shame we are enemies Helga. It would have been so very pleasant…to have been lovers.” Ever so slowly Lana ran her tongue down Helga’s face and neck as she gently began kissing her soft skin. “I have to be very honest with you my darling, I do find you very attractive for your age. But then again…” The physician paused; a look of vile detestation lying etched in her eyes, “I suppose you are keeping your beauty forever now…aren’t you?” Daintily Lana’s tongue licked Helga’s breasts and nipples, her patient’s breathing seemingly becoming heavier, deeper. “Oh Helga, you’re making me so moist between my legs, I do hope you won’t mind me kissing you…my darling,” she giggled like a schoolgirl. “I have told Otto you must be kept sedated for the duration of your stay here, and seeing as the man you still love is leaving very soon, I have decided to take great care of you myself…here…at Feldtberg Castle.” Wickedly, Lana clasped her hands together in a thrill of excitement, “aren’t you a lucky lady Helga, to have me, your own private doctor taking care of you?” Slowly, Lana’s hand snaked down Helga’s now very naked body, towards the dark mound between her patient’s legs, her breathing heavy with the anticipation of the forthcoming sponge bath. “Otto will be up to see you in an hour or so, but for now it’s time for a pleasant wash all over your tired body.” Giggling again, Lana reached for the sponge. Lowering her face to Helga’s once more, she whispered ominously, “when I’ve finished bathing you Helga, I intend to increase the level of your sedation, of course, you must understand, this is for your own good…and mine.” Gently, provocatively, she kissed Helga again, “then, once Otto has left, I intend to shave you, and have lots and lots…of fun!” Without warning, her patient’s hand shot out, grasping Lana tightly by the throat.

  “NO!”

  The deep, guttural voice and terrifying roar caught Lana Franke completely by surprise, the pain and pressure across her throat increasing dramatically as she began to struggle against the ever tightening grip. My God she thought, I can’t breathe! “Helga!” Lana gasped, “Hel…ga…” Although she desperately wanted to scream, the perverse physician couldn’t, her struggling form being pulled slowly downward towards Helga Zeist’s expanding jaw-line and razor sharp canine teeth.

  “We must presume Otto Von Kurst is at his castle,” Charles Mann talked quietly to Jean-Paul as Ash Piper walked into the Communications Room, closely followed by Nick.

  “Oh, and why is that sir?” asked Piper.

  Jean-Paul answered, “Von Kurst’s private Learjet is parked-up at Innsbruck Airport. He owns a castle just north of Innsbruck, on the Austrian-German border.” Jean-Paul typed nimbly at his keyboard, “from what I can see on my database, his Learjet is due to take off later this morning.”

  “Destination?” asked Piper.

  “Dusseldorf.”

  “Passenger listing?”

  “Otto Von Kurst and a Ms Helga Zeist.”

  “Any information on this Helga Zeist person?”

  “Yes, Nick checked on all staff listings for the VKE site in Dusseldorf, she is Otto Von Kurst’s personal secretary.”

  “What about Oratz?”

  “I ran a check on him too. It seems he’s also at the castle, but flying separately with Lufthansa at 2.15 this afternoon, again, to Dusseldorf.”

  “That certainly makes sense, two key players in a large company, travelling separately.” Piper stood by Nick, the look on his face conveying troubled thoughts, “so Otto Von Kurst has a castle, a private jet…and a wrecked helicopter,” he sneered, “shit, the man must be loaded?”

  “He is,” said the Colonel, “we’ve been gathering together every little bit of information we can find on both Von Kurst and Oratz.”

  “Yeah,” interrupted Nick, “and guess what?” There was silence as Nick once again enjoyed playing the bearer of important news.

  “Go on Nick, what have you found out this time?” said Piper, with a smile on his face.

  “Well Ash, you know how you want to get close to these guys?”

  “Yes Nick!”

  “Well…take a look at this!” Excitedly, Nick tapped the return button on his keyboard. The official Von Kurst Electronics website appeared on his screen, “apparently, there seems to be a VKE promotional cocktail evening next Thursday, at their head office in Dusseldorf.”

  “Interesting,” whispered Piper, “very interesting.”

  The phone on Nick’s desk rang, interrupting the conversation, “yeah! Oh, yes sir…right away, no problem!” Nick replaced the handset and looked at the Colonel. “Sir, Jeanette is back from SHAPE, she’s in the Commander’s
office. You and Ash are to report there immediately.”

  “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” The bedroom door crashed open as Otto Von Kurst and Wilhelm Oratz rushed in. “HELGA, NO!” yelled Von Kurst, “NO! LET HER GO…HELGA.”

  “SHE DEFILES ME!” shouted Helga Zeist, her jaws and teeth receding, but not her grip.

  “LET GO OF LANA!” Again, Von Kurst shouted as he and Oratz struggled with the naked woman, prying her powerful fingers from her tormentor’s throat. Gradually, Helga’s grip lessened as Lana Franke pulled herself away, her hair dishevelled from her struggles to keep away from her patient’s vicious teeth.

  “SHE’S GONE FUCKING INSANE” yelled Lana, “I TOLD YOU SHE NEEDS TO BE HEAVILY SEDATED.”

  Von Kurst’s raised voice was powerful and commanding, “NO ONE IS BEING SEDATED, NO ONE!”

  “OTTO,” Lana Franke was hysterical, “LOOK AT THE BITCH! SHE’S NOT HUMAN! SHE TRIED TO KILL ME, AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR HER!”

  Von Kurst looked hastily at Helga, then at his mistress. He spoke again, calming himself as he did so, “Lana, why is Helga naked?” There was no reply from Lana Franke as she stood silent, a look of both bewilderment and anger set fixedly in her mischievous eyes.

  “I asked you a question…Lana,” Von Kurst’s voice was now cold, menacing.

  “I…I…she, needed to be bathed, Otto.”

  “Did she now?” said Wilhelm Oratz, his sarcastic tone of voice plainly obvious, “you dirty bitch.”

  “FUCK OFF, WILHELM!”

  “ENOUGH!” yelled Von Kurst, his now bloodshot eyes gazing down at the woman on the bed. “Helga, how are you feeling?”

  Lana Franke’s skin crawled as a low rumbling growl emitted from Helga’s vocal chords, her blood red gaze turning towards Von Kurst. “I am feeling much better now Otto, much better.”

  “Helga, the wolf inside you is beginning to take form. Your body and mind are developing far too quickly, I am greatly concerned.” Von Kurst’s tone had changed, his face now seemingly compassionate, a hint of emotion set in his voice.