RED HAZE: A Werewolf Story for the 21st Century (24 page)

Ash Piper was the first to speak. “Something stinks down there Commander. Building Four is well hidden from public view. They also have dog kennels situated just around the area, and there’s no sign of any heavy goods vehicles, not even a fork lift truck within the vicinity of the building.”

“Nothing in the vicinity Sergeant Piper,” Charles Mann’s tone was acutely suspicious, “except for armed guards.”

Nick Lucas, deep in thought, tapped his fingers on his desk.  Jeanette Descard, distracted momentarily by the sound, glanced at Nick, her thoughts also occupied with the security arrangements at Building Four. She turned to the Commander. “Sir, I think it is quite obvious Von Kurst Electronics need to be investigated further, especially regarding this Wilhelm Oratz character.”

“I agree Doctor. Jean-Paul, I want as much information as you can possibly find regarding Oratz and I want it on my desk within the next two hours.” Hurriedly, the Commander turned to Nick Lucas, “Nick, your job is to hack into the warehouse computer mainframe and find out everything you can about the nature of the goods stored in that area.”

“Yes sir!”

“I also require detailed analysis of everything that is going in and out of that facility over the next forty eight hours, and further data regarding their security systems.” Commander Hertschell turned to Piper, then to Colonel Mann, “it’s time we started to ask some very in depth questions about Von Kurst Electronics,” he said.

Set in varied colours of marble and being seven metres in diameter, the Fuhrer’s Round Table was exquisite. Because of its weight, the workmen had previously struggled to bring the various sections of the table into the underground stronghold of Feldtberg Castle, but eventually they had succeeded, much to the delight of Otto Von Kurst. The special room, next door to the Operations Centre, was the meeting place for the Hierarchy of the New Totenkopf.

Proudly, they all stood by their elaborately carved oak chairs with large framed paintings of Adolf Hitler, Heinrich Himmler and Karl Von Kurst adorning three sides of the room. Otto Von Kurst was proud of the paintings, especially the one of his father. The New Totenkopf’s hierarchy, Otto Von Kurst, Wilhelm Oratz, Lana Franke, Claude Bescann, Jurgen Falck, Fritz Kempler and Jochen Kreutz all stood straight, staring at the black candle set in the small silver bowl, their faces solemn, unemotional. The candle burned slowly, as if trying to hold on to life itself. The New Totenkopf’s chain of command had been silent for two minutes, their thoughts having been with their fallen comrade, Gerhard Maas. The Fuhrer himself had proclaimed the deceased German a martyr, a warrior and true believer in their justifiable cause.

Gerhard Maas had given his life for that cause.

The Fuhrer spoke, “please everyone, take your seats.” They did so. At the same time briefcases, laptops and papers were neatly set out across the cold marble. “I need not remind you all, that time is of the essence with reference to our planning.” Von Kurst had a cold look in his eyes, “however, I am pleased to report the timing of our operations so far has been…impeccable.”

The mood at the Round Table quickly became sombre and businesslike. There was a great deal to discuss, for the war against the immigrants was beginning. Von Kurst spoke directly to Bescann, Falck and Kempler. “Claude, Jurgen, Fritz, may I offer you my personal thanks for your steadfast training of our grenadiers over the last seven months.”

“Absolutely,” said Wilhelm Oratz, “the grenadier’s training has been in a word, outstanding.”

The three nodded their heads in grateful acceptance of the compliments. “My Fuhrer,” said Bescann, “the level of training for our grenadiers received a new dimension with the arrival of our two friends. To have our soldiers trained by Waffen SS veterans has truly been an honour and…” the Frenchman looked respectfully at Falck and Kempler, “may I say…a privilege.”

“Thank you,” replied Falck, “I know I speak for Fritz as well as myself when I say it has been an honour to assist with your plans my Fuhrer. The two of us are always at your service.”

“Never the less my friends,” Von Kurst continued, “you left our wild cousins and returned to live with us once again. We all know how much you prefer your wild forms and so again, please accept our thanks.” Von Kurst turned his gaze to the screen of his laptop computer. “Now,” he said icily, “to business.” A deathly quiet fell across the room as Von Kurst continued, “as we are all aware, with the urgent issuing of the Blood Order, Phases One to Three of Project Amen are now complete. Our well organised and executed detonations have now awoken the feeble minded governments of Europe to a new terrorist threat. This threat of course being from…” Von Kurst paused, a look of mockery sat smugly on his face, “…our dear Muslim friends.” There was muffled laughter from around the table, apart from Wilhelm Oratz, who, as usual, sat quietly, not taking his eyes off his Fuhrer. “At this moment, as far as we can evaluate, law enforcement agencies across Europe have no idea who the European Muslim Freedom Fighters are, or, most importantly, where they are from.” Von Kurst looked pleased, very pleased, “and that is the way I want it to stay. Our grenadiers now move with impunity across Europe’s immigrant infested lands. Any questions so far?” No one uttered a word. “Good, now…I require reports regarding our tactical planning for the next phase of our plan. As you are probably aware, the dates for the so-called Festival of Peace have recently been announced. On the day, the Pontiff himself will give a speech and his blessing for the festival, to an estimated crowd of between eighty, to one hundred thousand in Saint Peter’s Square.” As Von Kurst continued, the fingers of his right hand gently tapped on the marble table.

Wilhelm Oratz interrupted, his voice resonating in vile hatred, “peace on behalf of religion my Fuhrer, what a pathetic joke.”

There was muttering from around the table, everyone agreeing with Oratz’s thoughts.

“My dear Wilhelm, as you are well aware, only the weak need religion.” All felt the menace in their Fuhrer’s voice as a sense of foreboding invaded the room. The Fuhrer’s dreams were now becoming a reality, the war to rid Europe of the Untermenschen was now well under way, but there was still so much to do. “Reports please everyone! Claude, your situation analysis will be appreciated, with a full update on tactical planning.” Von Kurst leaned back in his ornately carved wooden chair, his arms folded, his face, deadly serious.

“Of course my Fuhrer.” Claude Bescann gazed around at his fellow members of the New Totenkopf and continued. “My friends, as you are aware, the early detonations on behalf of the European Muslim Freedom Fighters opened the world’s eyes to a new terrorist threat across Europe and now, with the success of our latest detonations, panic has started to manifest itself.” Bescann smiled and continued, “…but not only panic, for as we predicted, retribution has begun.” Bescann swivelled his own laptop to a superior viewing position for all concerned and pressed the return button. Several muted news reports were displayed to all as he continued. “What you are now viewing are downloaded scenes from various news companies’ websites. The scenes show aftermaths of reprisal attacks on Muslim and immigrant areas. These attacks have generally been attributed to what the press call, ‘criminal elements’, but let me assure you, many people are involved in these ‘revenge’ attacks, including members of the general public. Paris, Munich, Calais, London, Manchester, Rotterdam, Berlin, Antwerp and many other cities and towns across mainland Europe are seeing hostilities and hatred grow between local peoples and the Untermenschen. But this of course is not the war we fully require, not by a long way. My Fuhrer, as of now, our grenadiers are ready to commence Phase Four of Project Amen.”

The Fuhrer spoke, “what of the proposed Marches Against Immigrants Claude, I take it the grenadiers will make the most of these…prime targets?”

Smiles resonated from the people around the table as Bescann closed his laptop, “of course my Fuhrer. The London March scheduled for Sunday and ending in Hyde Park, is already being reconnoitred. I can assure you all, suitable locations for our devices will be found and placed,” he looked around the room, “and maximum carnage…delivered.”

“Good! So what of the other proposed areas for these marches, namely Paris, Rotterdam and Munich?”

“Already estimates are between twenty to forty thousand joining the demonstrations in each city.”

“And the proposed dates for these marches?”

“All are coinciding with the march in London, hence, Sunday.”

“Excellent, and when can we expect the next fifty detonations to take place?”

“My Fuhrer, the next fifty detonations will take place at staggered intervals after the initial explosions during the marches. Again, these will be mostly, how can I say, ‘soft’ targets such as shops, cafes, petrol stations etc. The psychological impact will be enormous and devastating.” Von Kurst did not reply. Bescann continued, “in conclusion my Fuhrer, I can report all grenadiers are positioned for swift and decisive action for Phase Four. They will also infiltrate marches, meetings and the like to continue sowing the seeds of hate. Please be assured my Fuhrer, our grenadier’s loyalty and honour is steadfast to our cause.”

Von Kurst was pleased, his hardened eyes crossing quickly to Jochen Kreutz. “Jochen, I presume all our Scharfuhrers are ready to assist the grenadiers?”

Kreutz nodded his head in anticipation of the question. “Of course my Fuhrer. We have sixty Scharfuhrers in the field, assisting the rest of the grenadiers. All are well trained in the construction of devices and covert operations. As they have already proven, our Scharfuhrers will follow further orders without hesitation.”

“Wonderful Jochen, wonderful.” The smile on their Fuhrer’s face told all in the room everything was running according to plan. He turned to Wilhelm Oratz. “Now, Wilhelm, indulge us with your update on your proposed visit to St Petersburg!”

“This is one of the latest photographs of Wilhelm Oratz,” said Jean-Paul, “the Sales Director and board member of Von Kurst Electronics.”

“Wow, who’s the chick?” Nick Lucas, with a broad smile on his face, examined the large, clear image on the main Communications Room screen. So too, did his colleagues.

Jean-Paul continued, “the two people with him are Otto Von Kurst, the Chairman and Managing Director of VKE and Doctor Lana Franke. She is supposedly Otto Von Kurst’s mistress and is also a board member of VKE.”

“Wow,” exclaimed Nick, “I don’t blame him, she is one beautiful lady.”

Ash Piper looked appreciatingly at the woman in the photograph. The fact she positively radiated sensuality was not lost on him either.

“The photograph was taken at the Berlin Philharmonic Hall, just over two months ago. This was a charity event to raise money for a new ‘Special Needs’ School in Berlin. Apparently Von Kurst gives a great deal to charities when he can.”

“What, like terrorist charities?” said Piper, sarcastically.

“Jean-Paul,” Colonel Mann’s tone was blunt, “enhance the photograph around the collar line of Wilhelm Oratz.”

“Certainly sir.” The photographic image grew in size.

“There it is,” said Piper, “you can just make out the purple colouring, slightly above his collar line.”

For Commander Maurice Hertschell, the enlarged image was enough. “Nick, how are you doing with the warehouse information?”

“I’m still on it sir, I will let you know as soon as I’ve hacked in and pulled the info.”

“Good, I will be in my office. Colonel, Sergeant, Doctor, if you please.”

Charles Mann briskly followed CEATA’s Commander in Chief as Jeanette Descard walked over to Piper. She leaned close and whispered in his ear. “I read your thoughts just then Sergeant, the look on your face gave them away.”

Piper pulled back and smiled. “Jealousy will get you everywhere Doctor Descard, that is, if you want it to?”

Wilhelm Oratz was in his element. He was proud of his planning. The original meeting with the Fuhrer’s old friend, Vitali Menkov had gone well, very well indeed. From that meeting, many months ago, the New Totenkopf’s links with the Russian Mafia had been confirmed and secured.

“As you are all aware,” Oratz began, “with the confirmation date set for The Festival of Peace, my return visit to St Petersburg is now of steadfast importance. Therefore I fly out next Monday, onboard the VKE Learjet, staying for three nights at the Grand Hotel Europe, to meet once again with Vitali Menkov. The cover for my visit is the initial planning for our new microchip technology centre in St Petersburg itself. The Russian press have been notified, along with many press agencies across Europe.” There was a distinct look of unparalleled interest from the listeners around the table as Wilhelm Oratz’s plans unfolded. “The more Press coverage generated around myself and Vitali during the visit, the better, especially in the latter stages, for this will help to cover my flight back to Dusseldorf with the minimum of fuss at customs. The reason for this is quite simple,” Oratz ceased talking. He waited, just for a few seconds then continued, “at first sight, the official, business like briefcase I will be bringing back from St Petersburg will look inconspicuous enough, however, unbeknown to Russian and German customs and their beloved x-ray security machines, below the briefcase’s main compartment will be a small, but highly effective nuclear device, waiting to be primed for detonation.” A stunned silence fell across the room, for no one except Otto Von Kurst knew of this part of Project Amen. “The briefcase itself, which is an exact copy of my own, will be stored in the VKE Learjet’s main luggage compartment, giving easier access through security. Vitali assures me the inner layer of the case where the device will be stored, is impervious to any current airport security scanning equipment. Apparently, the Russian SVR have been using this type of deception for some time now.” Again Oratz paused, his self-righteous look of achievement returning. “From then on, once back in Germany, the case stays by my side and will travel with me on proposed sales visits to our various factories.” Oratz looked around at the stunned faces sitting at the marble table. “The yield of the nuclear briefcase bomb should be approximately twenty kilotons…” a look of dark retribution lay fixedly on Oratz’s face, “…this will easily be enough for our purpose.”