The Lure of the Pack

by Ian Redman

  “Yes, I think he does. Ever since you have sensed him he has been a constant thorn in your flesh.”

  “A thorn my dear Lana, that is about to be trampled on!” Smiling defiantly, Von Kurst lay back on the pillow as Lana leaned over him, her hand running slowly down his muscular, hairy chest.

  “I can still have him, can’t I? You promised me!”

  “Of course you can Lana. He is yours, as of tonight!”

  Lana was pleased, her thoughts racing as she visualised the various forms of medical torment she had been preparing for her new patient. “I want to milk you” she whispered, her smile as tantalising as ever.

  “Oh?”

  Gently, smoothly, she slid her right hand down to Von Kurst’s loins and wrapped her fingers around his penis. He sighed, his hips bucking slightly as she began kneading his foreskin back and forth. She giggled. “I want you to enjoy this.” There was no reply, just a grunt as Von Kurst closed his eyes, savouring the touch of his ex mistress’s gentle rhythm. She started to work faster, her tongue licking her lips as she lowered her head to his. “I’ve brought the scalpel,” she whispered, close to his ear, “and the sedative, a large dose.” Von Kurst panted heavily as Lana continued her lascivious rhythms, her hand squeezing ever tighter.

  “Good…”

  “Have you prepared the serum?”

  “Yes, you will have ample…supplies,” his hips bucked again.

  “Wonderful, relax…just relax!” He did so as her rhythm grew in intensity. Then came the climax, his seed exploding over her hand and his stomach. “Just a little more” she whispered, “come on, I want every little drop.” She ran her tongue down his face, tasting his sweat. He moaned, now constantly. “There, oh…wonderful!” Von Kurst lay panting on the bed as Lana licked his seed from her fingers. She smiled and whispered, “I’m going to make him pay!”

  “What?” Von Kurst still reeled from his pleasurable climax as Lana’s statement suddenly hit home.

  “Yes, I’ve decided…in fact I decided last night, when I was piercing you and you showed no response. You were cold Otto! You showed me then, that our love has finished. It’s not just Helga, is it? I know you love Helga, and I understand how you must join with Helga…to strengthen the Were.”

  Von Kurst’s eyes narrowed. What is she up to, he thought?

  Again, Lana lowered her head to his and began to gently nibble his ear lobe. She whispered again, “I still love you Otto, even though you don’t love me anymore.”

  “Lana…”

  She ceased the gentle biting, “yes my love.”

  “You…have never loved me!” Von Kurst pushed his ex mistress away, “you have only ever loved…yourself!” Wait for the explosion he thought, the fit of childish rage, the harsh words.

  “I don’t know how you can say that, Otto.”

  Unexpectedly, there was no fit of rage, no harsh words, just that look in her eyes thought Von Kurst, that devilish look of torment that had captivated his sexual appetite for so many years.

  “It’s his fault, isn’t it? This fucking lone one! So, he will pay…dearly!”

  Von Kurst smiled, a sinister smile. “I am intrigued Lana, have you been planning the interrogation of the lone one?” Even after his sensuous climax, the very thought of his nemesis undergoing ‘treatment’ on Lana Franke’s operating table brought about the beginnings of another erection.

  “Oh yes! I’ll make him talk for you Otto. I’ll find out everything about him and then I’ll experiment on him, for days, weeks, months…I’LL TORTURE HIM, INTO INSANITY!” With her voice rising in a demented rapture, Lana clapped her hands together and giggled, like a spoilt schoolgirl receiving a large present. “And all my work will be recorded, just for you, time and time again.” Fitfully, Lana threw her arms around Von Kurst and kissed him, “I’m not letting you go Otto, I’m not letting Helga have you. You’re my life, I need to be with you, my work will be for you, to prove my love for you. I’M NOT LETTING YOU GO!”

  “Lana…”

  She released him suddenly and sat up, her eyes distant, a look of utter despair marring her beautiful face. Von Kurst watched, disturbed as the woman next to him wrapped her arms around herself and began to rock back and forth. He reached for her, squeezing her arms tightly as he shook her. “LANA,” he shouted, “STOP IT!”

  “IT’S ALL HIS FAULT,” she screamed, “I’VE LOST YOU, BECAUSE OF HIM! I HATE HIM, I HATE HIM!”

  “Red Haze to Control, do you copy?” Ash Piper, once again dressed in his favourite ‘civvies’ of jeans, black tee shirt and a denim shirt, adjusted the satellite Com-link around his throat. As usual, it lay just out of sight, away from prying eyes. He listened carefully through the tiny receiver in his right ear, smiling as he stood at his bedroom window. It was a beautiful, sun-drenched morning and he was pleased with himself and his choice of hotel. The Hotel Nikko Dusseldorf was very pleasant indeed.

  “Receiving you loud and clear Red Haze, strength five.” Nick Lucas’s voice sounded as hearty as ever.

  “Just checking in Control, do you have any news for me?” It was 08.15 and Piper felt thoroughly relaxed as shafts of sunlight cascaded through the pleasantly decorated hotel bedroom’s large window, warming him.

  “Not really Red Haze. We’re going to monitor activity around VKE’s head office throughout the day. Your companions are already in position, following instructions, so to speak!” Piper laughed! It was a typical comment from Nick, CEATA’s joker he thought, but a clever, reliable friend. “It’s okay for some people who get to stay in classy hotels; I presume you’re making the most of it?”

  Leisurely, Piper gazed out across Dusseldorf’s city skyline, thinking of his evening meal in the hotel’s Teppan-Yaki Grill Room. “Oh yes Control, last night’s Beef Teppan-Yaki, was quite delicious.”

  “Oh…thanks a lot!” Piper could see Nick sitting at his console, smiling, enjoying their warm-hearted banter with Jean-Paul sitting at his side.

  “Red Haze!” It was Colonel Mann’s voice.

  “Go ahead, Control!”

  “As per yesterday’s discussion, I suggest you make the most of the day, including a recon on your host’s location.”

  “No problem Control. I’ll keep in touch throughout the day and run a final brief before I leave for tonight’s event. If you have anything else to report, just let me know. Red Haze out!”

  “Affirmative Red Haze. Enjoy your day!”

  Oh I intend too, thought Piper. Now…it’s time for breakfast!

  “Bescann is dead!”

  “What!” The pleasantries had ceased, so too, the congratulations on a job well done. Wilhelm Oratz sat rigid in his chair, facing his close friend. “How…or need I ask?” he said, venomously.

  “The lone one and his colleagues.” Otto Von Kurst did not trouble to hide the look of loathing hatred on his face. “Claude took his own life rather than be captured. You were preparing to leave for St Petersburg when I found out. I couldn’t tell you until now!”

  Oratz bowed his head in acceptance of his Fuhrer’s comments. “Shit, so what now?” he asked.

  Von Kurst’s face set like stone, “we still go ahead as planned. This evening marks the turning point for our grand retribution my dear friend. Tonight, we take the lone one and destroy both his and his colleague’s plans to thwart us. No, we move on, Project Amen still continues.” Oratz fell silent as a knock came from outside Von Kurst’s office. “Come in Helga,” the door opened as Helga Zeist stepped in with a tray of coffee and biscuits, “as you can see, our intrepid traveller has returned!”

  Helga walked smartly over to where Oratz sat and placed the tray on a small table next to him. “Wilhelm, it’s nice to see you again.”

  Oratz nodded his head, “you too Helga.” His tone was lifeless as usual, for Wilhelm Oratz had no liking for any woman in Otto Von Kurst’s life, but at least he admitted to himself, Helga was far more palatable than the other bitch! “So, where is Lana?” he asked.

 
“At my house, she will be joining us later for the cocktail evening.”

  “Does she know about Bescann?”

  “Yes, I told her this morning.”

  “And…?”

  Von Kurst shrugged his shoulders, “as I have told you, Helga and Lana…we move on, it’s as simple as that!”

  Again, came another nod of the head as Oratz noticed Helga’s gaze turning towards the briefcase at his side.

  “Is that it?” she asked, an icy shiver running down her spine.

  “Yes, this is the briefcase.”

  “I presume Vitali’s instructions regarding priming and detonation were clear and precise?” asked Von Kurst.

  “Absolutely! Once I have left Rome, I can prime and activate the device from the Learjet. Detonation will then follow, two hours later.”

  “Just as the dear old Pontiff begins his blessing, not that he will have much to say!” Von Kurst’s evil leer said it all, thought Oratz. The destruction of religion and a major civil war across Europe would begin soon enough!

  “From what I can see, Vitali and his friends have made an excellent job of copying your original briefcase.”

  “Vitali has made an excellent job of everything we asked of him Otto, you know that!”

  “Indeed, and I presume he is happy with our plan for payment?”

  “Yes!”

  Von Kurst slowly nodded his head, “good, so how is my fellow, Russian Were?”

  “He is fine and sends his warmest regards, to both yourself and Helga.”

  “I presume you told him of my annoyance at his stupidity…?”

  “In Rostov,” interrupted Oratz, “oh yes Otto, I told him.”

  “Good, and how did he reply?”

  For a few seconds Oratz fell silent, his thoughts racing back to the tense dinner and conversation in St Petersburg. “Vitali realised how foolish he had been! Now, he only hunts when he has to.”

  “Yes, and…what else did he say?” The look in Otto Von Kurst’s eyes made Wilhelm Oratz begin to sweat.

  “You won’t like what he told me, Otto!”

  “Try me!” Von Kurst’s fists were beginning to clench.

  “During the hunt…in Rostov…”

  “Go on…”

  “He was filmed, by a TASS news team!” Oratz’s heart beat heavily. He was sweating, his birthmark itching, the loud crashing of fists on his Fuhrer’s desk suddenly making him jump!

  “THE FUCKING IDIOT,” yelled Von Kurst.

  “He said there is nothing to worry about Otto, he killed the camera team.”

  “AND WHAT PRAY TELL, HAPPENED TO THE FUCKING FILM? I PRESUME HE DESTROYED IT?”

  “I…I…”

  Von Kurst growled, so too, did Helga, “YOU DON’T FUCKING KNOW, DO YOU WILHELM? THAT’S BECAUSE HE DIDN’T TELL YOU…SHIT!” Again, another crashing of fists on the desk made Oratz jump.

  “If the film got to the authorities…?” Helga looked gravely concerned, her now bloodshot gaze focused on her lover. “Otto, they will have evidence of our existence! The lone one and his team,” she faltered, “what if they may have seen…”

  “I know, I FUCKING KNOW!” Von Kurst roared with anger, “MY FATHER AND I ALWAYS TOLD VITALI TO STAY IN THE SHADOWS WHEN HUNTING, TO NEVER GIVE MERE HUMANS ANY OPPORTUNITY TO PROVE OUR EXISTENCE. NOW, BECAUSE OF HIS FUCKING STUPIDITY AND ARROGANCE, THEY MAY WELL HAVE EVIDENCE…”

  Helga quickly arose from her chair and stood behind Von Kurst, her hands gently massaging his shoulders, “calm down Otto, calm down!”

  If there was one thing that always frightened Wilhelm Oratz, it was seeing his closest friend in a fit of rage, a rage that only the Were could produce. “The rest of the meeting went well,” he continued, “so too, the visit to the new site and the television appearances.” Don’t mention Vitali’s self imposed god like status, he thought, at least for the moment. Change the subject, quickly!

  “I know,” whispered Von Kurst, Helga’s massaging returning him to a tolerable level of calm, “I watched you on various news channels. My apologies Wilhelm, you did an excellent job in St Petersburg, I did not mean to vent my wrath on you. It is Vitali who has angered me.”

  Oratz breathed a heavy sigh of relief and scratched his birthmark, “it’s no problem Otto. Incidentally, Vitali knows of Helga, he has heard her calling.”

  Momentarily Helga ceased her massaging. “Oh,” she said, her look penetrating, “I am intrigued Wilhelm, what else did Vitali say?”

  Oh fuck thought Oratz, now what have I said? “He senses great power in you Helga, you are to become the Were’s alpha female, he knows this.”

  “Oh…and what else?”

  “Yes Wilhelm,” whispered Von Kurst, “what else?”

  Oratz swallowed heavily, “he says you must begin hunting again Otto. If you do not, you will become weak.”

  “And Vitali is right my dear friend. I must and will begin the hunt again…and far sooner than you think!”

  Ash Piper had forgotten just how much he loved Germany. Even from his childhood days, when his English father, Cornelius Piper lectured at Bonn University and his German mother, Marguerite, wrote freelance for various educational establishments, he had felt a bond with the country. But so too, his love for Great Britain was just as strong. The two countries had played such an important part in his childhood and teen years. It was only when the Piper family had moved to England, after his father gained a senior lecturer’s position at Bath University, that his life in Germany was left behind, with the young Ashley attending college, then university, studying languages and military history. Subsequently, with a craving for action and adventure coursing through his veins he had joined the British Parachute Regiment, much to the annoyance of his mother and father.

  Hastily casting his thoughts aside, Piper stepped out of the Hotel Nikko’s lobby. Under his favourite black leather jacket, neatly tucked into a quick release shoulder holster sat the USP45, both previously delivered by a ‘special’ courier in a plain, large padded envelope. At least he had the handgun for the day, he thought as he raised his right hand, hailing a taxi. It was time for the first close recon of Von Kurst Electronics Head Office. As a taxi pulled up alongside him, Piper thought of his colleagues at CEATA Headquarters, now most probably sitting or standing by the large screen in front of Nick as they watched his every move. With his concentration set fully on the task ahead he brusquely opened the taxi door and stepped in.

  Somewhat nonchalantly, the taxi driver gazed into his rear view mirror at the tall, dark blonde haired man, sitting behind him. “Good…day,” he said, in broken English.

  How apt thought Piper, an immigrant!

  “There he goes, and all expenses paid.” Nick Lucas was openly pleased with his little joke, but no one else laughed, least of all Jeanette Descard. The large screen in front of CEATA’s senior personnel showed a hive of activity centred around inner city Dusseldorf, including the transmitting signal from a certain microchip placed under one man’s left armpit.

  Nick’s smile fell flat as Colonel Mann entered the Communications Room, “Nick!”

  “Yes sir.”

  “I need an update on the movements of VKE’s Learjet, right now!”

  “Yes, sir!” Nick quickly typed at his keyboard. He knew that tone of voice, he thought, so no more jokes, the Colonel was gearing up for action. “Here we go sir, okay, there seems to be no flight roster booked until next Monday…”

  “Very well!” Colonel Mann, his face stern, turned to Jeanette Descard, quickly noticing her look of deep concern, “good morning Jeanette. Red Haze is all set then?”

  “Good morning sir. Yes it seems that way, Ash is going to run several recon passes around the VKE building, before tonight’s event.”

  “Good!” The Colonel turned back to Nick, “well Nick, please continue…”

  “Yes sir. It seems Wilhelm Oratz is flying to Munich, early on Monday morning, then…yeah, let’s see…early Wednesday, he flies to Zurich, then…Thursday,
late evening, the Learjet leaves for Rome. Yeah, with a return flight to Dusseldorf booked for Sunday, late morning.”

  “Business meetings?” The Colonel turned to Jeanette, who shrugged her shoulders.

  “It seems to fit, the destinations are all factory locations for VKE,” she said.

  “The flight plan does fit in with various business meetings sir,” Nick turned around and looked up at the Colonel. “I ran another check on Oratz last night. Believe me, I’ve hacked into every mainframe VKE have, he definitely has meetings next week. In fact, if you look here…” Nick turned back to his keyboard and pulled up another screen full of information, “the same flight plan is booked two weeks later.” The Canadian shrugged his shoulders, “sales meetings and follow ups. It must be!”

  “Alright Nick, print out the information will you, I’ll take it over to the Commander.”

  “Certainly sir.”

  “So, Falck and Kempler are now hunting the ones who hunt us, how…poetic!” Wilhelm Oratz had to admit that his close friend’s planning was both meticulous, and clever. “The stupid shits don’t realise who they are dealing with, the same goes for Vitali and the way he manipulates the FSB. Yes, as soon as I arrived the FSB were onto us, but believe me Otto, Vitali is always one step ahead of them. Like you, he is very adaptable and dare I say…cunning!”

  Sitting quietly, with a trace of a smile on his face, Otto Von Kurst nodded slowly in acceptance of his close friend’s dialogue. He continued the intriguing conversation, “as per my instructions, Jurgen and Fritz have become like ghosts, melting into the shadows. Already our antagonists have been located and tonight, they will be eliminated. Yes, the ones who defy us are a military team, obviously, but so what!” Von Kurst left the confines of his chair and stood up, “do they have anyone who can match the sheer battle hardened talents of two ex Waffen SS veterans? No, of course not, and this evening, those same veterans…will strike!”