The Lure of the Pack (6 page)

“And what then?” Cold apprehension ran through Lana’s veins,
turning her blood to ice.  She shivered.

“What then? Pain, he will suffer a great deal of pain, and
you my dear Lana,” Von Kurst’s lips creased into a wicked smile, “will be
instrumental in his suffering.”

Commander Maurice Hertschell looked down at the wad of papers
on his desk, “let’s run through these facts again Sergeant!” CEATA’s Commander
in Chief looked across at Colonel Mann then Jeanette Descard who had just
finished hurriedly typing on her Laptop, his gaze then returning to Ash Piper.
“If you please…”

“Yes sir. To start with, we have a suspect with a birthmark
under his right jaw,” began Piper, “with close links to a company whose
Managing Director’s father was a major in the Waffen SS Totenkopf division.” He
paused then continued, “a warehouse facility that’s crawling with armed
security guards, the stockpiling of weapons, namely modified MP44s being
delivered under cover of darkness in a HGV from St Petersburg…” Piper looked
around! All eyes were on him, their scrutiny intense, “…the crates of which are
impervious to x-ray scanning, even by satellite. Then we have the presence of
an armed Eurocopter Tiger attached to our suspect’s security operations.”

“Jeanette, what are your thoughts on this evidence? You
mentioned to me earlier how you think the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service
and Mafia may be involved in this series of events, why?” Commander Hertschell
was intrigued.

“Think about it Commander! We have viewed the Rostov video
footage and the werewolf in that footage. Now we have evidence of murders
recently committed with brutal similarity in St Petersburg, the blame
apparently being linked…to the Russian Mafia. Then, as Sergeant Piper has
reported, we have the modifying and delivery of weapons in crates which are
impervious to x-ray scans, these same crates being delivered…from St
Petersburg.”

“With not a hint of detection at customs,” interrupted
Piper.

“Yes, go on,” said the Commander.

“Gentlemen, think back to about eight months ago. Didn’t the
British and French governments have an unholy row with the Kremlin regarding
espionage in their countries, espionage controlled by the SVR?”

“Yes they did,” Colonel Mann spoke quietly, “the SVR’s so
called diplomats were actually smuggling out various copies of stolen European
defence documents in briefcases…briefcases, which upon investigation had a
section impervious to scanning by airport security systems.”

“Yes…I remember,” said the Commander, “well, it is obvious
Messrs Oratz and Von Kurst are involved in something sinister, as for the
possible connection to the SVR and Russian Mafia, only time will tell.”

“So what now Commander?” asked Jeanette.

“Sergeant Piper, what do you think?”

“We can’t just pull them in, there is far too much at stake.
They must be rattled anyway; they know we’re onto them.”

“So Sergeant, your suggestions please?”

Piper sat back and folded his arms, “we have a small army
most probably controlled by Von Kurst and Oratz hiding across Europe, an army
doubtless ready to strike again! If we bring these two in now, Lord knows what
retribution could engulf Europe. I suggest three things sir!”

“And these are?”

“We utilise CEATA Followers, to monitor every movement Von
Kurst and Oratz make, to stick with them both, like glue…”

“Agreed…” The Commander nodded his head, “and?”

“We order Nick to hack into the Von Kurst Electronics
databases at their head office in Dusseldorf, just to see if there are any
clues as to what these people are up to.”

“And…”

“I personally need to meet Otto Von Kurst and Wilhelm
Oratz…face to face.”  

3

HATE

“…interestingly enough, political parties are distancing
themselves from the march, except of course for the organisers themselves, the
British National Party. However, the consequences of the event remain to be
seen. Sky News will have on the spot coverage of the March Against Immigrants
from six a.m. tomorrow morning, and from what we’ve already heard, it should be
a very interesting day. This is Mathew Walsh, hovering over Hyde Park in
London, onboard the Sky News Helicopter.”

“I don’t believe it!” It was 06.20 the following morning as
Nick Lucas turned his gaze away from the television in the CEATA canteen’s
dining area.

“What don’t you believe Nick?” asked Jean-Paul.

“Approximately forty to sixty thousand people are expected
to join this so called, March Against Immigrants in London,” Nick sighed, took
another mouthful of Coca Cola and slowly shook his head, “it’s plain crazy!”

“And they’re expecting even more in Munich, let alone Paris
and Rotterdam,” Ash Piper sounded in buoyant mood as he quietly joined the two
young CEATA computer Intel experts.

“Hey Ash, how’s it going?”

Nick, as usual, wore his pleasant smile as Piper sat down
across from them, “I trust you gentlemen are ready for a busy day?”

“We are indeed, Sergeant Piper,” replied Jean-Paul.

“Good, because with any luck, within the next couple of
hours or so, you’re going to be very busy indeed.”

“Oh!” Nick stopped slurping his Coke and looked
captivatingly at his friend, “why, what’s up?”

“It seems our VKE security guard has finally come to his senses
and is ready to talk. Jeanette is with him now.”

“Lucky man,” replied Nick. The three smiled together.

“Claude,” Otto Von Kurst spoke with authority into his
mobile phone, “I trust you have arrived back safely?”

“Yes, my Fuhrer.”

“Good! I have to leave in an hour or so, I need to be in the
office on Monday morning and have a great deal to do beforehand.” Von Kurst
paused, as if his mind was on other matters, “as we agreed, Jochen will stay
here with our small contingent of grenadiers. He will monitor and report
directly to me once the detonations begin.”

“I understand, my Fuhrer.”

“Now, you know what to do?”

“I shall implement Runed Lightning immediately.”

“Destroy all records Bescann, we cannot take any chances.”

“Of course.”

“How long before you and your grenadiers will be finished?”
Otto Von Kurst was concerned; time was of the essence.

“I would estimate between five to six hours.”

“Very well! Remember, wipe the hard drive and destroy the
computer. Once the training area is stripped down and you have loaded the
weapons, drive directly to the Safehouse in Strasbourg. Do not, I repeat, do
not leave there until I have spoken to you, is that understood?”

“Yes, my Fuhrer.”

“Good! Have you anything further to report before we finish
this conversation?”

“Our Scharfuhrers have given their final recon reports
regarding the proposed routes for the marches; all locations for the devices
are confirmed. Our extra detachments have also finalised the other fifty
locations. All devices will be in place, ready for staggered detonations from
Sunday afternoon.”

“Excellent, and the newspapers will be contacted as usual?”

“Of course my Fuhrer, all on behalf of the European Muslim
Freedom Fighters.”

“Well done Bescann, I shall await with great anticipation,
the viewing of further carnage on my television screen. Now, for your
information, Wilhelm has reconfirmed the flight passage for the Learjet on
Monday and will meet with Vitali on Monday evening.”

“That is good news indeed.” Claude Bescann’s heart was
thumping, for he and his ten grenadiers on location at his farmhouse had a
great deal to complete, and quickly.

“Work with haste Bescann, we cannot afford to take any
chances and remember, leave no evidence. I will be in contact soon enough, that
is all!” Slowly, Otto Von Kurst’s commanding gaze moved across the rows of
television screens in the New Totenkopf’s Operations Centre, all tuned into
various news channels throughout Europe. Gently replacing his mobile phone on
his desk, his gaze moved to the main, large plasma screen in front of him, his
thoughts quickly wandering back to the infiltration of the VKE warehouse
facility. He clenched his fists tightly and sneered, his eyes aglow with wild
hatred. Where are you lone wolf he thought, where are you…and what are you planning?

With his face set like stone, Claude Bescann picked up the
small portable radio transmitter in his office and held it close to his face,
“Josef, come in!” There was a hint of crackling static as Bescann waited for
the expected reply. He spoke again, “Josef, come in!” The reply came.

“Josef here, Herr Standartenfuhrer.”

“Runed Lightning,” said Bescann.

There was a moment’s silence then the grenadier named Josef
replied, the tone of his voice full of urgency, “we are on our way!” Bescann
sat back, turned to the computer on his desk and switched it on.   

“Ash?” asked Nick, the two men walking hurriedly towards the
CEATA Communications Room.

“Yes Nick.”

“Why do people hate each other so much?”

Piper looked puzzled. “That’s a very astute question, and
one that is very difficult to answer my friend, why do you ask?”

“Well, since I started working here, I’ve seen and heard
about so much violence and now…” they turned left, down another corridor,
“these recent riots and murders against immigrants, it just seems so
unnecessary and so…cruel!”

“Yes, go on,” muttered Piper.

“Well, I just keep wondering, why the hell can’t people get
on with each other? There just seems to be so much hate…everywhere!”

“Have you asked Jean-Paul this question?”

“Err…no, I just thought I’d ask you, especially with your
background, I mean, well…you’ve seen and been part of, well…lots of violence
and hate, haven’t you?” Piper didn’t reply, he just kept walking, his face
solemn as the two turned right, down another corridor. “Sorry Ash, I didn’t
mean to, well, you know…” Nick halted, so did Piper.

“Forget it Nick, what I did in the Ardennes was purely for
survival.”

“I understand,” said Nick, quietly, “but Ash, tell me
something…”

“Yet another question?” Piper raised an eyebrow, the look on
his face, perplexing.

“Yeah, sort of…Ash, when you were hunting the men in the
forest, did you…hate them?”

There was a sudden silence between the two as Piper looked
around, acknowledging various CEATA staff members passing them by. Then he stared
icily at his colleague, “Yes Nick, I did hate them.”

“Oh…” Nick looked startled, “…but the man you saved, he was
so frightened. I mean…we were all watching him, using thermal vision, he was
soaked in his own urine!” Nick faltered, his words seemingly lost, the look on
his bespectacled face one of deep anguish.

“Nick, what are you getting at?” Gently, Piper put a hand on
his friend’s shoulder.

“Why did you save that man Ash, was it because you felt
sorry for him?”

Piper sighed, “you are a very sentimental young man Mister
Lucas. If there were more people like you, the world would be a better place to
live in.” Piper hesitated, the look in his eyes one of cold intensity, “and my
answer to that question is no Nick, I didn’t save the man because I felt sorry
for him.”

“Oh, so it was because he could help with
intelligence…that’s why you saved him?” Piper walked on, “that’s correct.”

“And if he couldn’t have helped with intelligence Ash,” Nick
shouted down the corridor, “WHAT THEN?”

The loud, distinctive reply came without hesitation, “HE WAS
A COMBATANT NICK, SO I’D HAVE KILLED HIM.” 

The man named Josef looked fixedly at Claude Bescann, “are
the authorities onto us?”

“Quite possibly. We have new orders from the Fuhrer himself
and they must be carried out with haste.”

“We understand, Herr Standartenfuhrer.” The ten grenadiers,
left on detachment at the New Totenkopf’s training area known simply as The
Farmhouse, knew the significance of the codeword given to them.

“Runed Lightning must be implemented immediately,” continued
Bescann, “the camouflage netting over the target range must be pulled down, the
assault course dismantled and the weaponry stowed in the van. We cannot leave
any evidence of our training here.” Bescann looked at his watch, “I told the Fuhrer
five to six hours, that’s all the time we have before we leave for Strasbourg,
now get moving!” The grenadiers bowed their heads, clicked their heels in
salute and quickly left the room. As they did so, Bescann turned to his
computer and began wiping the memory from its hard drive. Runed Lightning he
thought, the total removal of all evidence of the New Totenkopf’s training at
his retirement farmhouse. It was only to be implemented in an emergency, and
obviously the Fuhrer thought such an emergency had arisen. Bescann sat back in
his chair. He was beginning to sweat. This is bad news he thought, very bad
indeed.

“How I HATE you!” Lana Franke stood over the naked form of
Helga Zeist, “you have ruined…EVERYTHING!” She folded her arms, looking her
helpless, sedated patient up and down, then turned her gaze to the bowl of hot
soapy water…and the sponge. “Well my darling, as I told you before…” she
stooped, her face meeting Helgas, “…I’m not letting him go.” With a trace of a
mischievous smile, the beautiful physician gently kissed her patient’s lips,
“it is such a shame we are enemies Helga. It would have been so very
pleasant…to have been lovers.” Ever so slowly Lana ran her tongue down Helga’s
face and neck as she gently began kissing her soft skin. “I have to be very
honest with you my darling, I do find you very attractive for your age. But
then again…” The physician paused; a look of vile detestation lying etched in
her eyes, “I suppose you are keeping your beauty forever now…aren’t you?”
Daintily Lana’s tongue licked Helga’s breasts and nipples, her patient’s
breathing seemingly becoming heavier, deeper. “Oh Helga, you’re making me so
moist between my legs, I do hope you won’t mind me kissing you…my darling,” she
giggled like a schoolgirl. “I have told Otto you must be kept sedated for the
duration of your stay here, and seeing as the man you still love is leaving
very soon, I have decided to take great care of you myself…here…at Feldtberg
Castle.” Wickedly, Lana clasped her hands together in a thrill of excitement,
“aren’t you a lucky lady Helga, to have me, your own private doctor taking care
of you?” Slowly, Lana’s hand snaked down Helga’s now very naked body, towards
the dark mound between her patient’s legs, her breathing heavy with the
anticipation of the forthcoming sponge bath. “Otto will be up to see you in an
hour or so, but for now it’s time for a pleasant wash all over your tired
body.” Giggling again, Lana reached for the sponge. Lowering her face to
Helga’s once more, she whispered ominously, “when I’ve finished bathing you
Helga, I intend to increase the level of your sedation, of course, you must
understand, this is for your own good…and mine.” Gently, provocatively, she
kissed Helga again, “then, once Otto has left, I intend to shave you, and have
lots and lots…of fun!” Without warning, her patient’s hand shot out, grasping
Lana tightly by the throat.

“NO!”

The deep, guttural voice and terrifying roar caught Lana
Franke completely by surprise, the pain and pressure across her throat increasing
dramatically as she began to struggle against the ever tightening grip. My God
she thought, I can’t breathe! “Helga!” Lana gasped, “Hel…ga…” Although she
desperately wanted to scream, the perverse physician couldn’t, her struggling
form being pulled slowly downward towards Helga Zeist’s expanding jaw-line and
razor sharp canine teeth.

“We must presume Otto Von Kurst is at his castle,” Charles
Mann talked quietly to Jean-Paul as Ash Piper walked into the Communications
Room, closely followed by Nick.

“Oh, and why is that sir?” asked Piper.

Jean-Paul answered, “Von Kurst’s private Learjet is
parked-up at Innsbruck Airport. He owns a castle just north of Innsbruck, on
the Austrian-German border.” Jean-Paul typed nimbly at his keyboard, “from what
I can see on my database, his Learjet is due to take off later this morning.”

“Destination?” asked Piper.

“Dusseldorf.”

“Passenger listing?”

“Otto Von Kurst and a Ms Helga Zeist.”

“Any information on this Helga Zeist person?”

“Yes, Nick checked on all staff listings for the VKE site in
Dusseldorf, she is Otto Von Kurst’s personal secretary.”

“What about Oratz?”

“I ran a check on him too. It seems he’s also at the castle,
but flying separately with Lufthansa at 2.15 this afternoon, again, to
Dusseldorf.”

“That certainly makes sense, two key players in a large
company, travelling separately.”  Piper stood by Nick, the look on his face
conveying troubled thoughts, “so Otto Von Kurst has a castle, a private jet…and
a wrecked helicopter,” he sneered, “shit, the man must be loaded?”

“He is,” said the Colonel, “we’ve been gathering together
every little bit of information we can find on both Von Kurst and Oratz.”

“Yeah,” interrupted Nick, “and guess what?” There was
silence as Nick once again enjoyed playing the bearer of important news.

“Go on Nick, what have you found out this time?” said Piper,
with a smile on his face.

“Well Ash, you know how you want to get close to these
guys?”

“Yes Nick!”

“Well…take a look at this!” Excitedly, Nick tapped the
return button on his keyboard. The official Von Kurst Electronics website
appeared on his screen, “apparently, there seems to be a VKE promotional
cocktail evening next Thursday, at their head office in Dusseldorf.”