RED HAZE: A Werewolf Story for the 21st Century (4 page)

That same morning, thousands of kilometres away in the Dutch city of Amsterdam, fifty one year old Anna Friid was preparing for her usual day at the Van Gogh Museum.

Situated at Paulus Potterstraat 7, the famous, popular museum, houses the world’s largest collection of Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings. For over eight years Anna had worked at the museum as a tour guide, thoroughly enjoying taking the daily throng of visitors on walks around the exquisite paintings adorning the walls of the building. Her oratory was always vibrant and colourful, just like the paintings she adored, and both the staff at the museum and the tourists loved her. As Anna walked nimbly through the museum’s entrance doors, she heard her friend and work colleague calling over to her.

“Good morning Anna, have you heard from Jon yet?”

Zara Milt, a lively, bubbly twenty one year old, with thick-rimmed glasses and flowing red hair, was referring to Anna’s only son, now twenty-eight, who worked at a solicitor’s office in Lucerne in Switzerland.

“Yes, his letter arrived today Zara.”

“Oh, how wonderful!”

Anna’s face was awash with excitement. Jon had invited his mother to stay with him for two weeks at the end of April. She was delighted, so too, was Zara, for Anna had lost her husband just over three years ago. Now, time spent with her son, and at the museum, meant so much to her.

“We must talk a little later Anna,” Zara said, “but I think we have our first customers for the day.”

Quickly Anna turned around to see a small group of tourists standing at the front door, with Zara instantly noticing the tall, striking, well-dressed man with blonde hair, standing within the crowd. With a warm smile on her face, Anna unlocked the cloakroom door next to the reception desk. At the same time, blushing embarrassingly as the blonde haired man gazed fixedly in her direction, Zara welcomed their first visitors for the day.

Approximately fifty minutes later, the phone on Anton Actie’s desk began to ring. Actie was the main Political Editor for the much read and respected Dutch daily newspaper, “De Telegraaf”. Taking another sip of his luke-warm coffee Actie picked up the handset, the extension number reading ‘0’. He sighed, knowing it was the receptionist and the first of many phone calls throughout the day.

“Yes!”

“Anton, a call for you.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t give his name, but he says it is important that he speaks to you.”

“Find out who he is first Julie. You know I have my rules about talking to people like this, I am just so busy.”

“Yes but…he sounds foreign, okay, hold on.”

Actie kept the handset close to his ear and took another sip of coffee.

“Anton…”

“Yes?”

“Again, he just says he must speak with you, apparently it is important. He sounds a bit…strange!”

“Okay, put him through,” the coffee cup landed in the waste bin. “Anton Actie speaking, how can I help you?”

“Listen carefully. I represent the European Muslim Freedom Fighters. Our war against western decadence and betrayal begins today. Your country is targeted! The Dutch people shall be cleansed by fire.”

Actie sat back, the look on his face, quizzical, and a little perturbed. “Who the hell is this, what do you mean?” There was a distinctly menacing tone in the man’s voice, thought Actie, and a distinct accent…yes, a Middle Eastern accent.

“Don’t interrupt! Our war begins soon, you shall know when.” The line closed.

“Hello…hello!”

“Sorry Anton, he’s hung up!”

“Oh! Okay, no problem.” Nervously Actie replaced the handset. “Idiot,” he said, swivelling around in his large chair. Another coffee was required, and a cigarette. But now Actie was becoming worried. The man’s voice was very threatening! No, he thought, don’t worry, get on with your work, the caller was just a screwball, of that he was certain…he hoped!

After a sumptuous cooked breakfast, steaming hot shower and a shave, Ash Piper slept well for over three hours. Now he lay wide-awake, awaiting his visitor, his thoughts full of trepidation as the bedroom door opened. It was Doctor Ramirez.

“Please, step this way Colonel.”

Ashley Piper stared at the man walking through the doorway in complete bewilderment. “Colonel Mann, SIR!”

“Hello Ash. Please relax, there’s no need for formalities.” Colonel Charles Mann walked over to Piper’s bedside and pulled up a chair. As with all the men and women under the Colonel’s command, Ash Piper had the greatest of respect for this proud man, now Commander in Chief of UK Special Forces during the new Iraqi conflict.

During the early 1980’s, Charles Mann had been a key figure in the development and overall deployment of the ‘British Army of the Rhine’. He had then spent time commanding the elite ‘Royal Ghurkha Rifles’ and could speak fluent Nepalese. During the early 90’s, the Colonel had taken command of NATO’s Central Operations in Europe, this leading to a major role in the organisation’s redevelopment and deployment across mainland Europe. In 2000, after the collapse of the ‘Iron Curtain’, Colonel Mann helped forge stronger European based relationships with former Warsaw Pact countries, including Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania, before taking command of UK Special Forces Operations in 2001.

Within the military ranks of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation, Colonel Charles Andrew Mann was a greatly revered officer.

The two men shook hands warmly. Piper had met Colonel Mann the year before after his own successful assassination of Serbian Major Ramal Vlatec. A wanted man for war crimes since the former Yugoslavian Civil War, Piper’s undercover mission with the Special Air Service had gone well, the Colonel having personally congratulated him for what he had described as “an exceptional job”.

Now both men faced each other again, but this time under far different circumstances.

“It’s good to see you again, Colonel.”

“You too Ash. I take it the service here, has been to your liking? After you were found, our American friends helped to move you. Of course, there was no way we could take you to our standard field hospital, not after the circumstances surrounding your hospitalisation.” The uniformed, grey haired, overly tall man smiled warmly at Piper.

“Of course, I understand sir.”

“Good, anyway, you’re looking well.”

“I feel well sir. I’m certainly ready to get back to Iraq, and I hope you won’t mind me asking, but how are Dunstan and Collins?”

“Slow down Ash, slow down. Dunstan and Collins are fine and are back on active duty. But for you my dear fellow…things are different.”

For a few seconds Piper looked puzzled, then he sighed. “Yes I suppose things are different now, aren’t they?”

“Yes Ash, they are. Very different.”  Slowly, Colonel Mann stood and walked over to the large, slightly open, sunlit window. There was a gentle, refreshing, cool breeze blowing into the room. “Tell me Ashley, and be truthful with your answer.” Charles Mann looked directly at Piper, his face set like stone, “can you control that thing inside you?” There was silence as Piper looked down at his bed sheets. “I’m waiting for your answer, Ash!”

Piper breathed in deeply, his eyes now staring at the ceiling, “I’m sure I can sir.”

“Well, myself and a group of people who you’ll meet later in the week, have to be convinced. I saw the satellite footage of what happened during the firefight. God in heaven, I still can’t believe it!”

“Neither can I sir.”

The Colonel walked back to Piper’s bedside and sat down, grim faced. “So Ashley, it seems werewolves do exist!”

“Yes sir, it certainly does.”

“Right then!” With his broad, pleasant smile returning, Charles Mann held out his hand once more. The two men shook again, firmly. “Your de-briefing takes place in three days.” This time the Colonel’s tone was much more of a military nature. “Ash, for you the battle is over, now…the real war is about to begin. I have made arrangements for you to join a Royal Saudi Air Force C130 flight the day after tomorrow. The flight is on a standard medical supply mission into Brussels. Make sure you’re on it! You will then be met at Brussels airport and driven to ‘SHAPE’ Headquarters. I will see you there.”

‘SHAPE’ thought Piper, ‘Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe’. The Central European Military Command Headquarters for NATO, based at Casteau, near Mons.

“Very well sir, I’ll be on that flight.”

“Good! Right then, I have to leave. Rest now Ashley, I will see you soon.” Thoughtfully, Colonel Mann glanced once more at Piper as he quickly opened the door and walked out, his solid footsteps echoing down the hospital corridor.

“Doctor Ramirez, the room, is it ready?”

“Yes Colonel, as you requested, please follow me.” Briskly, the two men walked down another corridor, the Colonel now carrying a large briefcase he had previously left with the hospital’s armed security guards. Down another corridor they travelled, arriving at a door with a sign on it which read ‘MEETING IN PROGRESS. DO NOT ENTER’ Quickly, Doctor Ramirez punched a code into a small panel and opened the door, “in here, Colonel.”

“Thank you for your help Doctor, obviously I do not want to be disturbed.”

“Of course!” Doctor Ramirez nodded and left the room, carefully closing the door behind him.

Swiftly, Charles Mann lifted the briefcase onto a large desk in front of him, then tapped in a pre set code on a keypad inlaid on its right side. With a slight hissing sound the case automatically opened up, a portable television screen and keyboard attachment now in full view. Hastily, the Colonel pressed a red button on the keyboard. As the small television screen came alive, it read:

‘IDENTIFICATION REQUIRED’.

Gently, Charles Mann typed ‘LIONHEART’ and tapped the keyboard’s ‘return’ button. Within a few seconds, a message appeared:

‘IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED. PLEASE WAIT’.

The screen flashed again as the sound of static hissed from the case’s inbuilt loudspeaker. Then, directly in front of him, another man’s face came into view. He had jet-black hair and was naturally tanned. He was also uniformed, a high-ranking officer. “Charles,” the uniformed man said.

“Maurice, how are you?”

“Fine my friend, fine.”

“Have you viewed the satellite video footage?”

“Of course…”

“And…your thoughts?”

“I should think the same as yours. At last we have further evidence of these creatures existence.”

“Agreed, but what of Piper himself, and what he can do…for us.”

The dark blue uniformed man on the television screen looked deeply concerned as he continued his important conversation, “from what I have seen Charles, I would expect him to be highly volatile and at times, uncontrollable. The risk factor is obviously high!”

“Perhaps, but he is also extremely lethal. I take it you have read the reports from the two recon teams in the area, the ones concerning the body count?”

The man on the screen sat back in his chair and nodded, “I have, very thoroughly!”

“Forty three Iraqi soldiers, quite literally torn apart. I am sure you will agree Maurice, he is the weapon we need to be one step ahead of our enemies?”

“Yes, I certainly do agree.”

“Then we move?”

“Indeed so! He has Level One clearance.”

The well tanned, uniformed man moved closer to the screen, a serious look enveloping his face. “Bring him to Headquarters. I look forward to seeing you soon Charles. Closing communication.”

Charles Mann, his heart pounding, his fingers tapping the desk, watched the small screen close out, leaving a tiny white dot in the centre. At last, he thought, we have a new weapon, a weapon that will strike fear into the heart of terrorists everywhere. The Colonel smiled, stroked his chin in deep thought, then closed the briefcase.

It was six minutes to midday in Amsterdam and Anton Actie was in a heated meeting. Although unbeknown to everyone around him, he was still thinking of the sinister phone call earlier in the morning. As various senior members of the ‘De Telegraaf’ editorial team sat and argued about the next day’s headlines, Actie suddenly started to feel sick. Casually he got up to leave the meeting, when the internal phone began ringing. Cautiously, Actie looked at the phone whilst everyone else seemingly ignored it. Slowly, without really knowing why, he picked it up.

“Yes,” he said, quietly.

“Anton, it’s him again.”

“Who?”

“That weird man, the one who rang this morning.”

Julie, the receptionist sounded frightened as the sweat poured off Actie’s forehead. “Shit, put him through…hello, Anton Actie speaking.” Actie wiped the sweat from his brow as the man with the accent spoke again.

“And so…it begins!” 

The line closed.

Without hesitating Actie looked at his watch, it was two minutes to midday. Anxiously, he dialled down to the receptionist, “Julie, get me the police, quickly!”

“Oh dear,” Anna Friid said, “the blonde haired gentleman has forgotten his briefcase.” Anna looked at the clock and sighed. The man had left about twenty minutes ago. Oh, how clumsy of her, forgetting to give it to him! Annoyed with her carelessness, she walked over to see if there was an address or telephone number on the case.