The Lure of the Pack

by Ian Redman

  “I’M TRYING SIR, I’M TRYING!”

  In CEATA’s Communications Room, Charles Mann looked hard at Maurice Hertschell, sweat pouring down his brow. “God almighty, what a ruddy mess,” he said!

  Jurgen Falck fired quickly, emptying a full magazine, laying down a pattern of fire that Karl Spans instantly recognised. He was range finding. As Falck changed the SIG’s ammo clip, Spans made his move, running for cover towards a car across from him whilst letting loose a hail of covering fire from his MP5.

  “Bad move, my friend,” whispered Falck, “goodbye!” Falck raised the SIG to his line of sight and prepared to empty another full magazine directly into the car’s fuel tank!

  Just for a few seconds the terrible pressure on Piper’s windpipe slackened. Thank God he thought, my phone, I must get the phone! It was all Piper needed as he smashed his fist square into Von Kurst’s mouth.

  There was a defiant roar of a beast in pain as Von Kurst reeled backwards, spitting blood from his mouth. “TAKE HIM, FUCKING TAKE HIM!” he shouted.

  “WAIT!” It was Wilhelm Oratz who broke the pattern of violence in the office, his order taking everyone by surprise, the grenadiers slowly backing away from Piper, who pulled himself up, breathing heavily. The silenced Glock was pointing straight at his chest. Fuck, Piper thought, where the hell are the Followers? CEATA must be able to see the trouble I’m in! “That fucking pea shooter can’t kill me Oratz!” Even within the confines of his dire predicament, Piper remained calm. Gain time he thought, his hand slowly moving towards his now crumpled suit pocket.

  Oratz smiled, “I know, but it can slow you down!”

  Piper’s heart raced! Fuck the phone he thought, it was time, time for the wolf to make its presence known. Instantly, Piper’s jaw-line began to expand as a savage roar of defiance echoed through the office.

  “PLEASE, SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE!” The two women, both tourists from Switzerland huddled by the car next to them as Karl Spans leapt over its bonnet and changed his ammo clip. It was the last thing he ever did as Jurgen Falck fired. The two terrified women screamed in horror, the car exploding in a devastating whirlwind of flame and metal, hurling the women’s and Spans’ bodies through the large plate glass window behind it.

  “HA!” shouted Falck, “JOB DONE!”

  “OH NO YOU DON’T,” yelled Oratz, squeezing the Glock’s trigger, firing point blank into Piper’s right kneecap.

  His defiant, guttural roaring ceased, the wolf inside him suddenly contained as Piper, with a terrible grimace of pain, fell to the floor. “FUUUUUCK,” he yelled out in agony.

  “QUICKLY, HOLD HIM DOWN!” Lana Franke had already opened her small handbag as Piper crashed to the floor. Then, he noticed the syringe in her hand. “HOLD HIM, DAMN IT!”

  It was the gut wrenching pain in Piper’s knee that weakened his strength and resolve, the grenadiers swiftly pinning him to the floor. “YOU BASTARD VON KURST, I’LL SEE YOU IN HELL, YOU STINKING PIECE OF FILTH!”

  “Oh no, Mister Drake,” Otto Von Kurst moved forward and looked down at his struggling antagonist, a look of vengeful menace set firmly in his bloodshot eyes, “only you, are going to hell!”

  Fritz Kempler, with the SIG held expertly in a tight, two-handed grip, licked his lips as orange coloured flames lit up the street and his sweat-dampened forehead. How he loved the hunt, and to hunt professionals was even better. Quickly he walked around the car in front of him. Then he sensed her, move, to the left, NOW! Kempler dived and rolled as Suzanne Reline leapt out from the edge of another car across from him.

  She let loose with her handguns. “YOU BASTARD,” she shouted.

  But Kempler was far too fast for the CEATA Follower, for he moved as a wolf would move. Swiftly he turned, rolled across the tarmac and brought the SIG into his line of sight, emptying a full magazine into his prey. With a terrifying, pain induced scream Suzanne Reline flew backwards, her blood and body tissue splattering across the vehicle behind her. Swiftly Kempler stood up as more pedestrians screamed, the sound of police sirens already within earshot of his lupine hearing.

  Lana Franke quickly stooped, pulling off Piper’s tie and ripping his shirt collar open, “there my darling, just relax.” Ash Piper struggled, but it was no use, he was pinned down securely. As one of the grenadiers brutally yanked at his sweat sodden hair, jolting his head up, exposing his neck he grunted in pain, the thin needle effortlessly entering his artery.

  With his vision beginning to blur and the room starting to spin, Piper looked up at the pretty female face smiling down at him, “pleasant dreams handsome, at least for the moment!” Piper’s body fell limp as Lana Franke licked her lips, “take off his clothes, QUICKLY!”

  “What dosage have you used?” Otto Von Kurst wiped yet another trickle of blood from his swollen lip.

  “I followed your advice Otto, this will be sufficient to keep him quiet until I get him into theatre. Now, what about the serum?”

  Suzanne Reline’s body slithered down the side of the bullet ridden car behind her. She was still alive, but only just. The street was in chaos. She looked up, her breathing slow and heavy, her blood oozing from her mouth and nostrils. Just before death took her, she saw the other man, joining her assailant.

  “Pathetic shits!” Jurgen Falck took off the black raincoat and loosened his shoulder holster, “quickly Fritz, the back alley over there, it’s time!”

  Fritz Kempler raised the SIG up to his prey’s head. “The coup de grace,” he whispered, “I so enjoy head shots!” Suzanne Reline’s head disintegrated as further screams filled the chaos ridden street.

  “Quickly, the police are on their way, your handgun, suppressor and holster!” Jurgen Falck held out his hand, his instructions being briskly followed. Hastily, the Waffen SS veteran ran to the burning wreckage of the car he had personally destroyed and tossed the items into the flames, “prepare for the change Fritz, let’s go!”

  “PLEASE EVERYONE, PLEASE REMAIN CALM, THE POLICE ARE ON THEIR WAY!” Bernhard Steinhoff, the Production Director of VKE’s Dusseldorf site looked a very worried man. Just what the hell is going on, he thought? Of his Managing Director and Sales Director, there was no sign. It was up to him and his senior colleagues to keep the guests in the VKE showroom safe from the violence erupting outside.

  Otto Von Kurst moved back to the now up-righted desk. He opened a drawer and produced a small wooden box. “There is plenty in here to keep him from shifting form for at least two weeks, more will follow. Remember; inject him every twenty-four hours! I’ll give him his first injection, while you search for the device.”

  “Good,” Lana quickly opened her handbag again and produced a small, thin, oblong box. She opened it. “Spread-eagle him! I want to look under his arms first.” The three grenadiers stretched the now naked, heavily sedated CEATA field agent over the desk as Lana Franke snapped on a pair of latex gloves.

  “What are you doing?” Helga Zeist was intrigued. It was her lover, who replied.

  “He will have a tracking device hidden somewhere on his person, I’m certain of it, Lana is searching…”

  “Got it! I thought as much!” It only took the skilled physician two neat incisions with the scalpel she had produced from her handbag to remove the microchip under Ash Piper’s left armpit. She threw the miniscule device onto the floor, grinding the heel of her shoe on it as Von Kurst injected Piper’s right arm.

  “We have to move quickly,” said Helga, “Falck and Kempler have succeeded, I can sense their triumph, but the police will arrive soon. We must all be away as fast as possible.”

  “You three, take him through there,” Von Kurst pointed to another door, leading to a darkened rear area of the Von Kurst Electronics site. “Put him in the van and make sure he’s secure. You will travel with Doctor Franke, to Paris.” The grenadiers nodded their acceptance, picked up Piper’s limp body and carried him out.

  “All contact with Spirits One to Four is lost sir! The police are on their way and a GSG9 team wi
ll be on location in approximately fifteen minutes.” Jean-Paul, just like his other CEATA colleagues, looked desperately concerned.

  “I just don’t believe this,” Maurice Hertschell shook his head, “is there any contact whatsoever with Red Haze?”

  “Still no signal, it’s useless!” The look in Charles Mann’s eyes conveyed apprehension, but it was Jeanette Descard who looked truly anxious.

  “They’ve used some sort of electronic blocking device sir. I can’t get through it,” said Nick.

  “I think we have to accept the facts!” Colonel Mann’s gritty tone of voice had changed, the look on his face now one of anger and resentment, “there is now a distinct possibility our worst fear has become a reality.” Commander Hertschell nodded his head in agreement, as everyone else looked stupefied.

  “Just what is that supposed to mean Colonel?” Jeanette Descard knew exactly what her superiors were thinking.

  “Put simply, from a military point of view Doctor Descard, the facts speak for themselves.”

  “Colonel, don’t tell me you think Ash…”

  “Spare me your sentimental bullshit, Jeanette. We’ve just lost four Followers in a very well planned and executed operation. Our contact with Red Haze has vanished, so too, for all we know, have Von Kurst and Oratz. Shit, Red Haze…he just couldn’t wait, could he?” The Colonel stood boldly and folded his arms, “no, Piper is no longer with CEATA. I think it’s quite bloody obvious what’s happened…he’s damned well joined his pack mates!”

  “To you my dear Lana, I present a gift, to play with for as long as you wish!” Otto Von Kurst gently kissed Lana Franke on her forehead, “you know what to do?”

  “Of course Otto, I won’t let you down. He’ll talk, I promise you!” She giggled, her schoolgirl giggle.

  “Otto! Quickly, we must disperse!” Helga Zeist’s voice was frantic; the seconds were ticking away.

  “Very well, I’m coming Helga, prepare for the change!” Von Kurst looked again at Lana, “I want to know everything about our Mister Drake. Who he really is, who he works for, EVERYTHING!” Briskly, Von Kurst moved towards the open rear door of the office, his body beginning to enlarge, his throat contracting. As the wolf inside Otto Von Kurst began taking control of his human form, he looked back and shouted to his ex mistress, “AND LANA, MAKE SURE HE SUFFERS!”

  EPILOGUE

  THEATRE

  The explosion was deafening!

  Ash Piper grunted, his body hitting the sand with a sickening thud. Bastards he thought, the wind having been knocked out of him, his vision blurred.

  Another explosion! This time to the left. Grimacing, Piper gazed down at Captain Peters, who was quickly bleeding to death. “SIR,” he yelled, “CAN YOU HEAR ME? SIR, DON’T GIVE UP, DON’T…”

  “ASH,” It was Chris Collins’ voice, to Piper’s right, “WE’RE DEAD MEAT IF WE STAY HERE!”

  More machine gun fire, scything across the dunes, getting closer and closer! “PREPARE TO ENGAGE,” Piper hoped and prayed Billy Dunstan and Chris Collins could hear his order.

  “HERE THEY FUCKING COME! COME ON YOU BASTARDS, COME ON, I’LL HAVE THE FUCKING LOT OF YOU!”

  “NO BILLY, STAY DOWN, THEY’LL CUT YOU TO…” Ash Piper looked on in horror as a swathe of tracer ripped into his friend’s body, hacking him to pieces.

  “NOOOOOO!” In a heaving fit of rage the dark blonde haired SAS Trooper leapt up, the Iraqi militia running straight towards him, their AK47s locked and loaded. With a dire sense of urgency racing through his veins, he searched for his own weapon…nothing? Again, he searched…nothing! Just blood and sand, lots of sand, and itching, rubbing, scratching at his ever so naked body!

  “Hello, my darling…”

  “I’LL KILL YOU ALL, DO YOU HEAR ME!” Piper looked up towards the sun, his eyes squinting. It was so bright, and the sand? The sand was everywhere, across his naked body…and the Iraqis, running towards him? No, they had gone, vanished, but where…just the sun…and sand! What the hell?

  “Just lie still my darling, lie still…”

  Itching, the sand itching, incessantly! I must scratch it off, he thought, around my legs, near my groin. Damned bloody sand, always bloody itching, SHIT!

  “Oh darling, please, lie still, I’ve nearly finished.”

  A woman’s voice, emanating from the sun, gentle, caring! That’s strange, thought Piper, I know that voice. Mother? No, not mother, but…she sounds so gentle. The sand, scratch it off, scratch it! I can’t…I can’t move, I…wait…a figure, there…blurred, close to the side of me, he thought. A woman? Yes…it is a woman!

  Ash Piper awoke with a jolt and squinted, the light above him still so bright, so…circular. The sun, he thought? No, not the sun, I’m in hospital! Piper’s breathing became spasmodic, his chest rising and falling, his mouth dry. There, a doctor…his thoughts were sluggish…to my right, leaning over me, a lady in a white coat, her hair in a ponytail, she’s…smiling. The patient closed his eyes.

  Casually, Doctor Lana Franke smiled to herself. As always her timing was perfect. Her patient was awake and very nearly fully prepped, “how are you feeling, Oliver?”

  That gentle voice again, but she’s not looking at me, no, she’s…rubbing my skin…no, he thought, who the hell is Oliver? Why can’t I move? Then he heard it, a slight, low humming sound, just barely audible, seemingly in the background. It reminded him of something, but what?

  “There, you’re lovely and smooth, now then, I’ll just move the razor along, OH MY DARLING, I’M SO SORRY!”

  Piper’s body bucked, but only his torso moved, the rest was secure. It was the sudden nicking sensation, a catching of his skin at the lower area of his stomach that made him wrench and grunt!

  “Oh, how clumsy of me, this razor is so blunt. Never mind, I’ve nearly finished.”

  He bucked once more; this time with his eyes wide open. There was an uncomfortable feeling around his groin, she, the lady in the white doctor’s coat, was squeezing him in a very sensitive area, scraping something across his wet skin. He blinked once, twice and looked again at the light, then to his right, at the beautiful woman, smiling, her tongue licking her lips. His eyes closed, perspiration dripping down his forehead, irritating his eyelids. Slowly, he raised his head slightly; viewing the smile that had captivated him just…when was it? He couldn’t remember.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Yes, the sultry voice speaking again, still so very caring, the woman in the white doctor’s coat. “Lana?” he asked.

  “No my darling, don’t call me Lana, you will address me as Doctor Franke from now on, do you understand?”

  Piper didn’t reply, he just lay quietly on the table. The clean white and chrome operating table, his naked body spread-eagled and secure, the thick, black leather straps holding his arms and legs tightly in place with two wooden blocks very close to his head, one at each side.

  “I asked how you’re feeling,” she said, still smiling.

  Piper gazed into Lana Franke’s eyes. They seemed soft, but holding a certain hint of menace. His heart was racing. “I’m thirsty, I need water.”

  “I need water, please…Doctor Franke!” The beautiful woman’s face slowly lowered to his. Carefully, her latex gloved hand, smelling of soap, gripped Piper’s jaw bringing his head in line with hers. Slowly, somewhat provocatively, she licked her lips once again, her voice low, solemn. “You need to learn some manners…Oliver, so ask me properly…for a drink of water.”

  Piper breathed in deeply then spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper, “please Doctor Franke, may I have a drink of water?”

  She smiled, gently rubbing her left hand across Piper’s cheek, up to his forehead, slowly playing with his thick mane of sweat soaked, dark blonde hair, the sensation of her medical glove on his face feeling surreal, the smell of soap and disinfectant, disturbing. “Of course you can have a drink of water my darling, but say please once more.”

  “Please, Doctor Franke,” he muttered
, his breathing much heavier.

  The beautiful physician leaned closer, her lips meeting his, her tongue slowly penetrating his mouth, kissing him eagerly, breathlessly. “You’re so handsome, Oliver.” For some reason, her voice had suddenly become slightly deeper in tone, her breathing, erratic. “Yes, my darling, so very handsome, AND A FUCKING LIAR!”

  Ash Piper didn’t even have time to blink as the woman’s right hand lashed out, smashing into his jaw. He grimaced in pain as she gripped his cheekbones, squeezing dementedly. He tried to speak, but couldn’t, his jaws compressing together as her latex gloved hand applied brutal pressure. “So, you want water, do you?” Her tone of voice had changed again. It was now that of a raving lunatic, “well, you’re not having any. NO, NOT YET,” she yelled, “I’VE ONLY JUST FINISHED PREPPING YOU, HOW DARE YOU ASK FOR WATER!” This time it was two heavy handed slaps across his face that made Piper grunt, his body writhing against the straps in response to the unexpected assault. “Oh my darling…I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to lose my temper; let me get your water.” Giggling, she moved away, across the small, well-equipped operating theatre to a sink with several, cloth covered, stainless steel bowls next to it.

  My God thought Piper, his head reeling, I’m helpless…and in her hands. Oh Christ! No…wait, he thought, CEATA, the wolf! A sudden burst of adrenaline coursed through Piper’s veins as the white-coated woman returned to his side. Smiling, she lifted his head up to a comfortable position. He drank gratefully, the cold water moistening his dry throat.

  “Slowly darling, slowly…there, now lie back.” Ever so gently, she lowered his head on to the white headrest giving him support, smiling even more affectionately as she did so. “I am sorry Oliver; I hope you will forgive me for hitting you.” The look in her eyes was now one of pity as she slowly walked around the operating table, over to Piper’s left, her smile never receding. “I need to relax now my darling; I’m so flustered and overcome with emotion. I feel terrible about hitting you like I did.”