The Lure of the Pack (30 page)

Their eyes met, their hands shook and their throats
contracted. As the clapping continued Otto Von Kurst, feigning a large, open
smile whispered directly to Piper, “I hope you’ll enjoy your interview, Mister
Drake!” For a few seconds both men glowered at each other, then, as Lana Franke
and Helga Zeist made their way to the rear doors, Von Kurst spoke to his guests
for the last time. “And so ladies and gentlemen, Wilhelm and I bid you a very
good evening, no doubt we will see you all again soon. Goodnight!” The applause
gained in intensity as both Von Kurst and Oratz ushered Piper off the podium
and through the doorway at the back of the showroom. At the same time, with his
fists clenching tightly, Ash Piper prepared himself for action.

“Shit, I don’t believe it,” Nick Lucas quickly took off his
glasses and began cleaning them, “Ash has shook hands with Von Kurst!”

“Just what the hell are you doing Red Haze?” muttered the
Colonel, his questioning gaze quickly moving to Commander Hertschell’s.

The doors closed behind him as Piper and his…hosts, moved
into the corridor. Another door opened across from them, leading into a large
office, “if you please Mister Drake.” Helga Zeist bid Piper enter the office,
the look in her eyes radiating a presence of extreme menace. Piper walked in,
preparing to lash out if necessary. The doors closed behind them as three hefty
grenadiers, posing as VKE security guards also entered the office. Quickly,
Piper’s thoughts raced to the mobile phone in his jacket pocket. Any second now
he thought, get ready!

“Colonel, you need to call the Followers in, now!” Jeanette
Descard’s face was etched with tension.

“Nick!”

“Yes sir.”

“Order all Spirits to priority Code One alert, immediately!”

“Yes sir. Control to all Spirits, Control to all Spirits…”
As Nick Lucas frantically relayed Charles Mann’s instructions, the Colonel
turned to Jeanette.

She looked angry. “Colonel, with all due respect, it’s quite
obvious from the images on the screen that Ash is now in danger!”

“I will be the judge of that, Doctor Descard!” The Colonel
turned quickly to Commander Hertschell, who just nodded in agreement.

“All Spirits are confirmed on priority Code One alert,
Colonel. They are preparing to assist Red Haze,” said Nick.

“Good! Any time now Piper will make his move!”

“You couldn’t resist it, could you, Mister Drake?” Otto Von
Kurst and Wilhelm Oratz stood to the front of Piper, with Helga Zeist to his
left, Lana Franke to his right and the three grenadiers close behind him.

“I couldn’t resist what, Otto?”

“Being with your fellow…pack mates.”

Piper breathed heavily, his adrenaline coursing swiftly through
his lupine veins. There was something mesmerising about the strong, defiant man
standing in front of him, something tantalisingly hypnotic. “I’m sorry Otto, I
don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Von Kurst sniggered, turned around, his back towards Piper
and pulled out his mobile phone. “You must excuse me Mister Drake, I forgot, I
have a couple of phone calls to make.”

Piper’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Wilhelm Oratz. There
was not a trace of emotion on the VKE Sales Director’s face, but Piper noticed
he was holding a small device in his right hand!

“Come on Red Haze, if you’re going to make a move then do
it!” Charles Mann’s eyes were ablaze with tension as CEATA’s Senior Command
team stared intently at the powerful, overhead satellite imagery on the screen.

“Good God Ash, what are you waiting for,” whispered
Jeanette, “make your move and call in your support!” Suddenly the overhead
imagery vanished, leaving a mass of snowy static for all to see!

“Hey, oh shit!” Nick Lucas couldn’t believe the sight he and
his colleagues were now witnessing!

“NICK, WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING, WHERE’S THE SATELLITE
IMAGERY!”

“I DON’T KNOW COLONEL, I JUST DON’T KNOW!” With his voice
filled with panic and dire frustration, Nick typed frantically at his keyboard,
“WE’VE LOST IT! THE SIGNAL, OH SHIT, WE’VE FUCKING LOST IT!”

“Why this sick war, Otto?”

Von Kurst held up his hand. It was a gesture telling Piper
to keep quiet. He dialled a number, put the mobile to his right ear and spoke
very quietly, “prepare!” It was only a whisper, but to Piper’s acute hearing it
might as well have been a shout. That one word was all Piper needed as he
kicked out at the grenadier directly behind him, catching the man in the solar
plexus and sending him reeling against the door. Without hesitation, the other
two grenadiers lunged quickly, punching and kicking Piper to the floor.

“GET THE FOLLOWERS IN, NOW!”

Colonel Mann’s fists were clenched tight as Nick Lucas spoke
frantically into his headset, “ALL SPIRITS, REPEAT, ALL SPIRITS, PRIORITY CODE
ONE, ANGEL’S WING, REPEAT, ANGEL’S WING!”

Swiftly, Piper rolled across the carpet, lashing out with
another powerful kick, just missing Helga Zeist’s legs as she growled deeply,
her face full of seething hatred. The kick connected with a kneecap, the second
grenadier falling, screaming in pain.

“Let’s move!” Paul Gent and Suzanne Reline reacted swiftly
to the code word passed to them. As they left the safety of their armour plated
Saab 9-3, pulling the retractable stocks from their Heckler and Koch MP5
submachine guns, they did not notice the man in the black raincoat, quickly
approaching them from behind. 

Simultaneously, Carolyn Melen left her table and walked
briskly outside, opening her jacket and preparing to unholster her two Ruger P95
handguns.

At the same time, the unkempt looking man sat behind her
growled resonantly, frightening the café’s customers next to him. He rapidly
got up and walked into the street, retrieving a handgun from inside his
raincoat. There was no time and no need to attach the suppressor thought Jurgen
Falck, just finish her, now!

The grenadier had recovered quickly, far too quickly, the
strong, stocky man aiming a brutal kick at Ash Piper’s groin. He blocked it,
but only just. Kicking out again, Piper savagely knocked the legs from under
his opponent, who fell crashing to the floor. My mobile he thought, I’ve got to
get it! At the same time, amidst the violence enveloping the office, Otto Von
Kurst placed his phone back in his pocket and looked directly at Wilhelm Oratz.
Oratz nodded, quickly producing a silenced Glock 17 from the drawer next to
him.

My God, thought Karl Spans, shouting as loud as he could,
“CAROLYN, BEHIND YOU! BEHIND YOU!” The instant he had left his Volkswagen
Passat, Karl had noticed the tall figure moving swiftly towards his CEATA
colleague. He stopped in his tracks, raised the iron-sight of his own MP5 and
prepared to fire at the rain-coated man aiming a handgun directly at the female
Follower’s head. 

Piper punched hard, catching another grenadier squarely in
the jaw but they were now on top of him, their strong grips pulling him to his
feet. Fuck this, he thought as he slammed his right foot into a grenadier’s
shinbone. It was the break he needed as he fought free, and with a terrifying
roar, propelled himself towards Otto Von Kurst.

The two powerful men collided, their bodies ramming into a
desk and rolling over it. With interminable rage coursing through his lupine
veins, Piper smashed his fist into Von Kurst’s face, once, twice, three times.
“FUCK YOU, VON KURST,” he yelled.

 “SHIT, HE’S GOT A GUN!” The five teenagers were slightly
drunk, but that didn’t stop them noticing the terrifying series of events now
unfolding around them and the other bystanders in the busy Dusseldorf Street.

Swiftly, Jurgen Falck let loose two rounds from his SIG,
blowing Carolyn Melen’s head apart, then, as he heard the hissing sound of
bullets heading towards him, he dropped to the ground. Seemingly with ease
Falck rolled across the tarmac, letting loose another four rounds straight
towards his new antagonist.

“NO LONE WOLF, FUCK YOU!” With blood pouring from a wound
over his right eye where Piper’s fist had connected, Otto Von Kurst gripped his
enemy’s throat with both hands. He squeezed like no man could ever squeeze, his
throat contracting.

It was a hideous roar that assaulted Ash Piper’s ears as he
started to choke! Shit he thought, the strength of the man! He fought back,
trying to break free as the three grenadiers surrounded him, the looks on their
hardened faces telling of oncoming, violent brutality.

Paul Gent and Suzanne Reline took defensive positions, but
for Gent himself it was too late. The two shots from Fritz Kempler’s SIG were
expertly aimed, entering Gent’s forehead and throat within a split second of
each other.

“JESUS CHRIST!” For Suzanne Reline, the sudden assault had
taken her completely by surprise, “THIS IS SPIRIT TWO, WE ARE UNDER FIRE,
REPEAT UNDER FIRE! I AM TAKING DEFENSIVE ACTION!”

Fritz Kempler moved with the cunning of the wolf inside him.
He knew what the young woman would do; he could sense her fear, her adrenaline.
Neatly dodging an oncoming taxi, he ran out across the road. Behind the car, to
the left, he thought, she’s behind that car! As pedestrians leapt for cover,
many screaming in terror as two passing cars screeched to a halt, Kempler moved
in for his second kill.

“I’LL KILL YOU LONE ONE, I’LL KILL YOU!” Otto Von Kurst had
turned into a raging animal, only just barely able to control the wolf inside
him, his hands squeezing harder, crushing Piper’s windpipe. “MISERY! YOU’VE
CAUSED ME UNTOLD MISERY! YOU BASTARD, YOU’LL FUCKING PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE,”
he yelled, his voice filled with hate and loathing.

“KILL HIM OTTO, KILL HIM, KILL HIM!” Helga Zeist’s echoing, venomous
voice sounded like a demon from hell!

Piper gasped for air as he heard Lana Franke shouting
hysterically, “NO OTTO! HE’S MINE, YOU PROMISED ME!”

“JESUS BLOODY CHRIST, GET THAT DAMNED SCREEN UP MISTER
LUCAS!”

“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.