by Ian Redman
“Affirmative Sergeant,” the pleasant, but business-like female GIGN Captain’s voice had a certain aura of charm about it, thought Piper.
“I don’t like this Ash, she’s taking one hell of a shitty chance,” whispered Winters.
“I know, but it’s the Captain’s decision Tim, if she wants to knock on Bescann’s front door, then it’s up to her. Personally, I think we should just go in and storm the place.”
“I can’t understand why she is taking such a risk!”
“Apparently Rinise knows Bescann well! He used to be her boss and they often have dinner together. She thinks he has nothing to hide, or at least if he has, she can talk him into giving himself up!”
As Tim Winters shook his head, he noticed the sweat pouring down Piper’s face, “Ash,” he asked, “are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m okay! I’ve just got a headache, that’s all!”
Slowly but surely, the white, bullet proof Gendarme Van drove down the driveway to Claude Bescann’s farmhouse courtyard. Inside were three GIGN team members including Captain Estelle Rinise, all armed with FA-MAS Assault Rifles and like Team Echo, well protected with body armour.
Or so they thought!
“He is cunning, his power grows day by day,” sobbed Helga Zeist, Von Kurst’s hand gripping hers, tightly. “He is ready to strike again! I see men and women, surrounding a building…a farmhouse!”
“Bescann!” Otto Von Kurst reached for his mobile phone and switched it on. Fuck the in flight rules, he thought. With his heart racing he dialled Bescann’s number and waited for the reply. Answer the phone Claude, answer the fucking phone! Von Kurst cursed aloud, “shit,” a look of helplessness racing across his face. The voice over the airwaves was his friend’s answering machine service. Shaking his head in anger, he switched the phone off and put it back into his pocket as Helga closed her eyes, her breathing erratic, guttural. “Helga, do you see anything else, you must concentrate my love. I need to know!” Suddenly, Sonia dropped the cutlery in the galley as she heard Helga Zeist’s scream. “Helga,” said Von Kurst, “what is it? SPEAK TO ME!”
“Mister Von Kurst, Ms Zeist, what’s…” Sonia didn’t finish her question as she walked briskly towards her passengers.
“NOT NOW SONIA,” yelled Von Kurst, “NOT NOW!”
“I see bloodshed,” sobbed Helga, “and death!”
Von Kurst clenched his fists together and in a fit of unbridled rage cursed at the top of his voice, “FUUUUCK!”
“They know we are here, and they know we are armed!” Claude Bescann sat at his desk, flipping the Glock around on his index finger like a cowboy showing off his latest six-shooter.
“How do you know, Herr Standartenfuhrer?” asked Josef, standing in a corner of Bescann’s office, out of view.
“It’s very simple, the van approaching us will have members of the GIGN inside and the helicopter we have heard is a back up team. The bastards have a fucking satellite above us, of that I’m certain, and…” Bescann paused, looking down the iron-sight of the Glock, as if picturing his target, “they will be using thermal imaging!”
“Then we fight?”
“Yes Josef, we fight, for our loyalty to our Fuhrer and our own honour. We fight to the death, and Josef…”
The stocky, tough Scharfuhrer of the New Totenkopf’s training detachment grinned wickedly, “yes, Herr Standartenfuhrer!”
“Pass the word around…I take the first shot!”
“Sergeant, I am leaving the vehicle and walking to the front door.” Captain Rinise relayed her movements carefully to Piper as she opened the van door and, with one of her GIGN colleagues close by, walked across the cobbled courtyard.
She rang the front door bell.
“We’re watching you closely Captain.” Piper peered through his binoculars as Rinise waited for the door to open, her FA-MAS gripped tightly in her gloved hands.
“There is movement,” she whispered, carefully noticing the brown leather jacketed figure through the door’s ornately patterned stained glass windows.
Within a few seconds Claude Bescann, with a beaming, welcoming smile on his face opened the door, holding his hands up as if in a gesture of surrender. He laughed joyously, “well, well, well, my dear Estelle, and armed to the teeth as well! Please, whatever I have done… I’m innocent!” The large, broad smile stayed on Bescann’s face.
“Claude, I am sorry, but I need you to accompany me to headquarters.” There was no hint of a smile on Estelle Rinise’s face.
“Estelle,” Bescann shook his head in mock disbelief, “please, tell me…on what charge?”
“Suspected terrorism Claude. I must warn you, we have the place surrounded and you and your men are easily outnumbered.”
“Oh Estelle, this is preposterous, I mean…”
“IF YOU HAVE NOTHING TO HIDE CLAUDE,” Rinise shouted, “YOU WILL NOT MIND ACCOMPANYING ME. I AM TRYING TO MAKE THIS AS EASY AS POSSIBLE!”
The smile vanished as Bescann slowly lowered his arms. Any second now he thought, just lure the bitch in!
At the same time, the hairs on the back of Ash Piper’s neck became rigid, “she’s in danger,” he said.
“Alright Estelle, I appreciate what you are saying, please…come on in.”
With his smile returning somewhat, his voice welcoming, genial, Bescann offered another open gesture of friendship as Captain Rinise, without thinking, dropped her guard and walked slowly into the hallway.
“Please come with us immediately Claude.”
“Of course Estelle, let me find my shoes!” As Claude Bescann turned around, he quietly muttered to himself, “welcome to my parlour, said the spider to the fly.”
“I’m sorry Claude, what did you say?”
“CONTROL TO RED HAZE!” It was Colonel Mann’s voice and Piper instantly knew what was coming.
“Go ahead Control!”
“MOVE NOW, MOVE NOW, COMBATANTS ARE PREPARING TO ENGAGE, GET IN, NOW!”
“AFFIRMATIVE CONTROL! TEAM ECHO MOVE TO ASSAULT, REPEAT, MOVE TO ASSAULT!”
It all happened so quickly.
Estelle Rinise noticed Claude Bescann was already wearing his shoes. She watched him turn around, having put his hand into his inside jacket pocket. The last thing she saw was the Glock pointing straight at her face as Bescann shouted, “BITCH!”
Then her helmeted face exploded.
Immediately, the windows of the farmhouse splintered into fragments, Bescann’s grenadiers opening fire with their MP44s. Viciously cut down in a hail of scything hot lead, the GIGN officer by the van screamed in agony as a torrent of modified 9mm bullets tore into his body. He fell instantly, his bullet ridden, shattered form convulsing as his colleague threw the van into reverse gear and sped backwards.
Then the explosions began! Team Echo were hastily moving into combat.
It was a fight to the death and everyone knew it! “WE NEED BESCANN ALIVE, SUPPRESS THE BASTARDS,” yelled Piper.
“USE FLASHBANGS,” shouted Winters, quickly throwing a stun grenade towards one of the windows, the small metallic object soaring through the air, straight through a smashed window into the farmhouse living room. A massive crumping sound and bright, dazzling light followed. There were screams and further sounds of shattering glass as a pair of curtains caught fire.
“FIRE IN THE HOLD!” Another Team Echo trooper gave the classic military warning, her voice reverberating through various Com-links as she hurled a flashbang grenade through a bedroom window. There was movement everywhere, fast and furious. To the left, added gunfire, to the right, further explosions and all around, the yelling and screams of men and women entwined in vicious, bloody combat.
Quickly, two Team Echo troopers made a dash for the kitchen door, their bodies being caught in a rapid crossfire.
“YOU FUCKING SHITS!” A strong voice in German, from the kitchen! A grenadier!
“YOU TWO,” Piper pointed at two other colleagues, “MOVE TO THE LEFT! WE’LL TAKE THE RIGHT, FLANK THE SODS!” Piper and
Winters, their adrenaline racing, ran to the side of the farmhouse as another grenade flashed by them through the kitchen window. They dropped down as the flashbang exploded in a torrent of white searing light, its concussive effect taking the kitchen’s occupants by surprise. Savagely, Piper kicked the door in and rolled across the floor, firing on full automatic as Winters opened up with his own MP5. It was a classic manoeuvre, catching a grenadier off guard, his body spinning around in its death throes, cut to pieces by the unbridled ferocity of the crossfire.
Swiftly, efficiently, two further members of Team Echo smashed into the lounge, dodging the licking heat of the fire now careering across the furniture and bookcase. They moved assertively, with more following as another four hurled further stun grenades through different windows.
With an increasingly tumultuous cacophony of sound further explosions ripped through the farmhouse, its rooms filling with smoke and the strong, heavy stench of cordite. “COVER ME!” Unexpectedly, two grenadiers were immediately caught in a cross fire of death, their bodies incapable of movement after the impact of three flashbangs had jolted their senses into dumbfounded confusion.
“TIM, BEHIND YOU!” Piper only just noticed the combatant behind his friend, but it was too late, the grenadier’s right arm tightening around Winters’ neck as they both fell to the floor, writhing in savage hand-to-hand combat. Swiftly, with his mind racing, Piper raised his MP5 but to no avail, Tim was directly in the line of fire!
With the continuing cacophony of combat echoing all around him and fearfully choking from the pressure across his windpipe, Winters rolled over. With as much force as he could muster he elbowed the grenadier in his stomach then turned swiftly, head butting him directly in the face. Blood flowed openly from his assailant’s broken nose as Winters blocked the hand suddenly lunging with a large bladed knife, the look on the grenadier’s face one of pure hatred. Now thought Piper, running across to his friend, viciously kicking out at the grenadier’s ribs. The man screamed in agony, dropped the knife and sprawled across the floor, his body contorted in pain as Piper aimed and fired, shredding his enemy’s chest.
All around came further yelling and explosions, the last few remaining grenadiers fighting as if possessed. Another Team Echo trooper fell screaming, a bullet smashing into his thigh, his colleagues returning fire amidst a welter of blood and gore.
“GOLF INDIA REPORTING! NORTH WING CLEAR!” It was the voice of the main GIGN team’s Lieutenant. They had smashed their way in and fell about the grenadiers with savage brutality, their hearts burning with revenge after the sickening murder of their colleagues.
Bescann thought Piper, where the hell is Bescann? “TIM, WITH ME!”
Panting heavily, Claude Bescann ran down the main hallway of his farmhouse, his face contorted, cut and bleeding from flying fragments of glass and plaster. Coughing harshly from the surrounding smoke whisping its way through his once beloved home, he forcefully flung his office door open. This will be over in seconds, he thought! Turning to his computer hard drive Bescann placed a new ammunition clip into his Glock then aimed and fired, the computer shattering into pieces as six rounds destroyed the last vestiges of evidence of the New Totenkopf’s training facility. Then, amidst the discord of battle he heard footsteps running down the hallway. It’s over, he thought! For himself, but not for the Fuhrer…and the cause.
With their eyes set firmly on their prime target, the helmeted, body armoured figures of Ash Piper and Tim Winters stood in Claude Bescann’s office doorway, their MP5s held level. Their orders had been clear! Take Bescann alive if possible, but Piper and Winters had never expected to witness the heart stopping sight now in front of them.
The shooting and screaming across the farmhouse had ceased. Only the sound of crackling flames and the smell of burning wood now engulfed Piper’s senses as his blue and amber eyes gazed in horror at Claude Bescann. “Don’t do it Claude,” Piper kept his voice low, talking calmly, using Bescann’s first name to hopefully calm the man in front of him. The man with the barrel of a Glock 17 held in his mouth, his finger pressed tightly on the trigger. “Claude,” again he spoke softly, gently, “put the gun down. You know it’s over, we can work things out!” It was the look in Claude Bescann’s eyes that told Piper he was wasting his time.
He was right!
“NOOOOO!” Tim Winters’ yell echoed in Piper’s ears as Bescann pulled the trigger, blowing the back of his skull and brain tissue over the rear office wall, his body hurtling backwards then slowly sliding down the room’s crimson stained interior.
As Tim Winters cast a look of dire hopelessness across to his friend, Piper shook his head in dismay. “Fucking shit”, he said kicking out in sheer frustration at Bescann’s desk, “FUCKING SHIT!”
Minutes later, with his face set like stone, Ash Piper stood outside the late Claude Bescann’s wrecked farmhouse as several Team Echo troopers attended to their casualties. Despondently, Piper noticed the bodies of Captain Estelle Rinise and her colleague being covered over with a black plastic sheet. He sighed, his gaze still fixed on the bodies near him, the smells of burnt wood and cordite apparently everywhere, vividly assaulting the wolf’s senses.
“Ash,” Tim Winters’ gritty voice came from Piper’s left. He was standing by the van previously loaded by the grenadiers, “come at look at these.” The rear doors of the van had been prized apart, with two members of Team Echo dragging one of four large wooden crates out into the open. “MP44s,” said Winters, “fucking unbelievable!”
“I know, I discovered crates full of them in the VKE warehouse near Aachen.”
“What the hell is going on?” Winters couldn’t believe the sight of the newly manufactured Waffen SS assault rifles. “These have been modified to take a nine mill round,” he said as Piper’s gaze focused on the crates. “Where the fuck are these shits getting this sort of gear?”
Inquisitively, Piper looked inside the van and noticed a set of target boards which had been used for shooting practice. He turned back to his friend, “St Petersburg, or at least that’s what we think.”
“So that’s why you asked me about the leads on the DVDs?”
“Yes Tim.”
For a few seconds Winters stood speechless as sirens from the local fire brigade and ambulance service echoed in the distance. “You’d better make your report,” he said. Piper looked fixedly at his friend, nodded and walked away. He had a great deal on his mind. “SO HOW’S THE HEADACHE?” Winters shouted.
“IT’S GONE!”
Otto Von Kurst and Helga Zeist stood at the top of the portable stairway attached to the VKE Learjet at Dusseldorf International Airport. “I do hope you will accept my apologies Sonia, I didn’t mean to be so rude.” Von Kurst felt genuine regret after yelling at his stewardess.
Smiling, Sonia ran her hand through her wind swept hair, “it’s no problem at all Mister Von Kurst. I could see you were plainly worried, I’m just glad Ms Zeist feels better. I shouldn’t have interfered!”
“Nonsense Sonia,” said Helga, “that’s why we enjoy having you with us. It’s nice to know VKE have such attentive staff. Again, thank you for all your help.” Sonia’s ever-present smile never left her as Von Kurst and Helga made their way down the metallic steps and walked across to the main terminal.
It was over an hour later as the couple briskly made their way to the airport’s main car park, but something was wrong! They both growled in unison and stopped, the hairs on the back of their necks becoming stiff, rigid! Helga Zeist quickly looked at the man she loved, her eyes once again heavily bloodshot. So too, were Otto Von Kurst’s. “Do you sense something Otto,” she said, “something threatening?”
“Yes my love, we are being followed!” They walked on.
“Otto!”
“Yes Helga.”
“You must tell me what is happening, and why you are so worried about Claude. I need to know. You can trust me!”
“As soon as we are back at my house Helga, I will tell you every
thing!” Von Kurst halted, let go of his luggage trolley and pulled Helga close to him, passionately kissing her.
She smiled and whispered, “why are we being followed Otto?”
“You will know soon enough, my love.”
“Does it bother you?”
“No, not at all!” The two slowly walked on as Helga heard a low, intense growl emanating from Otto Von Kurst’s vocal chords.
5
WAR
With the intended prey focused firmly in his blood red field of view, Jurgen Falck peeled back his slavering snout. Slowly, silently, he lowered his furred, canid body and large pointed ears, his wild eyes gazing steadfastly at the magnificent red deer stag chewing lazily on the dew soaked grass. He scanned the prey again, every meat laden part of it. With its ears twitching from left to right, the stag raised its head slightly and ceased chewing. Food, thought Falck. At last, sustenance, and it was weak! Yes, the rear left leg, the stag was limping, probably a damaged or arthritic joint. The two of them could easily outrun and outflank it!
Both Jurgen Falck and Fritz Kempler had travelled through the forest for nearly two days, enjoying the freedom of the wild, once again relishing the strength of their senses and the feeling of power within their overly large wolf forms. But of their wild brothers and sisters there was still no sign, no trace…nothing. The wild wolf pack they had lived with in this area for many, many years had quite possibly moved on. Yes, they had seen many of their wild friends come and go over the years, the feeling for dispersal being natural in both the males and females, especially in the omegas. But their own feelings of strength and kinship, of being at one with their wild companions had been strong and most of all…everlasting. Both he and Kempler had been waiting to hear their pack-mates’ calls reverberating through the dense forest. But there had been no reply to their own, mournful howling.
It would come thought Falck, he was sure of that. He turned his head slightly to the right, to his fellow Were and issued a low growl. Fritz Kempler instantly understood the meaning of his friend’s lupine communication. Split up and circle! A pincer movement, cut the stag off at an angle and make it dash through the thickest, tree-laden part of the forest.
