RED HAZE: A Werewolf Story for the 21st Century (7 page)

“We would love to go to Berlin one day, wouldn’t we John?”

“Err…yes…yes, why not?” John was somewhat surprised at his wife’s sudden revelation. She had never mentioned it before! He put her feelings down to excitement and replied absently, “I think it would be a fascinating city to visit.”

Claire looked up again at Gerhard, her head tilted slightly to the right. There was something about this man that intrigued her, she thought. Was it perhaps the look in his eyes? Yes…it was his eyes! Once again, this time looking slightly irritated, Gerhard peered down at his watch. “Are you expecting someone Gerhard?” Claire’s question caught the young backpacker off guard, his eyes focusing intently on hers as she shivered slightly.

“Expecting someone? No…sorry, no one.”

Claire clasped her hands together in anticipation, “so please Gerhard, tell me, is Berlin a romantic city?”

Suddenly, Gerhard’s face had changed. Gone was the pleasant, seemingly happy go lucky, backpacking tourist. Now, standing in front of her the young German seemed like he was made of stone. His face had hardened, his smile…absent. “A romantic city…Berlin? It used to be,” he said, his tone sultry, dry, “until the immigrants started to arrive.” Claire’s new friend cursed under his breath, the spittle on his lips being wiped away with his tongue. Again his eyes focused narrowly, like hardened pieces of steel on the woman in front of him, the woman…who wasn’t smiling any more.

“Oh…” Claire replied, slightly taken aback by the young man’s change of attitude. “Yes, I suppose the whole of Europe is changing now due to the influx of immigrants. But it can’t be helped really, can it?” Claire shrugged her shoulders, her soft eyes meeting the man’s hard gaze. “After all Gerhard, we are all human beings. We all have to live together and get on with each other, don’t we?”

“Why?”

Claire felt a chill run down her spine, and it wasn’t the breeze.

“Why should we live with them? Why? They are all Untermenschen.” This time Gerhard spat his words out.

Claire took a step back. “I’m sorry” she said, unnervingly, “I don’t speak German. What does Untermenschen mean?”

Realising he had gone too far, Gerhard turned away, looking again at his watch.

Now Claire knew something was wrong!

“I am sorry,” the German replied, “please excuse me, I need to find the bathroom. It has been very nice meeting you both.” Hurriedly, he turned his back on them and pushed his way through the crowded deck.

“Ladies and gentlemen, ten minutes to departure.” A singular, somewhat metallic voice echoed through the Tannoy, telling all, they would soon be under way.

“John…” Claire was frightened, shivering, “John, I want to get off this boat.”

“WHAT!” John was livid. “Don’t be silly love, what’s the matter with you?”

“Please John! I want to get off…NOW!” Claire’s voice was loud, the crowds on deck turning around, gazing in her direction. John felt embarrassed but could see his wife was upset. Again he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, kissing her gently, sweetly on the lips, hopefully to calm her fears.

At the same time, Gerhard finished speaking to one of the ‘De Neederland’s’ attendants and walked downstairs below deck, towards the bathroom.

Ever so quietly, Gerhard locked the small cubicle in the steamer’s bathroom area and pulled off his rucksack. Nearly all the passengers were on board, just another dozen or so were on the gangway, paying their fares. The timing was perfect! Jochen, his companion waiting further down the dock, had run his reconnaissance well, his information being vital to the success of the mission. Swiftly opening his rucksack, the German pulled out a small, oblong object in a brown paper bag. Opening the bag gently, he removed its contents and with a menacing smile, primed the timer and detonator. Two in the afternoon and plenty of people on board he thought as he finished his work. What a perfect way to begin Phase Two! Gerhard smiled, a wicked smile, a smile that spoke of hatred and violence, for he knew the rest of the Fuhrer’s grenadiers were everywhere, preparing to strike or waiting in the shadows. Deftly tapping in a pre set code, he pressed a small button. A red message began to flash on the small facia in the middle of the weapon.

It read: ‘ARMED’.

Ever so gently, Gerhard pushed the lethal device back into the brown paper bag then pulled off his jacket. It was reversible. From dark green to light grey and all in a matter of seconds. In the confined space of the cubicle he slipped the jacket back on. Next, his spectacles, now removed from his face and neatly folded. Last of all, his wig. Off it came…revealing the real Gerhard. After combing down his blonde hair, the young German placed the remnants of his disguise into the bag, then, standing up on the lavatory seat he lifted up the rucksack, now with the brown bag and its contents inside, wedging it deep behind the lavatory cistern. Perfect he thought! No one would notice! He smiled again! Having smartened himself up, Gerhard unlocked the cubicle door, walked out and nimbly climbed the stairway to the milling crowds on deck, a mobile phone held tightly in his hands. He needed to contact Jochen immediately. It was time to leave!

Claire was crying. John had lost his temper with her. Shamefacedly, he shrugged his shoulders and bowed his head, deeply regretting being so horrible to the woman he loved so dearly. “Claire, listen”, John’s voice was quiet, sentimental, “I didn’t mean to lose my temper, honestly!”

Claire’s sodden eyes gazed up at him, “don’t worry John, forget it!” Her hair flew around her face as she tilted her head back and took a long sharp intake of breath, the sea air feeling clean and fresh. For goodness sake girl she thought, get a grip of yourself!

Caringly, lovingly, they looked at each other then kissed. It was time to depart. “Why don’t we find Gerhard?” said John, “it will be good to talk to him again.”

“Yes, why not, he was nice wasn’t he?” Or was he, Claire thought? As the two British tourists glanced around for their new friend, Claire noticed the tall blonde haired man walking briskly up the gangway, just seconds before it was pulled back. All the passengers were now on board.

All…except one!

That’s strange Claire thought, somewhat despairingly looking across at her husband. “I don’t remember that man being in the queue. John…look!” Claire’s voice was inquisitive, suspicious, her right index finger pointing to the man now standing on the quayside as a Silver Grey Audi A8 pulled up alongside him.

“What did you say love?”

“That man there, getting into the car! Oh, it’s too late now, he’s gone.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get under way, shall we?” Again came the voice over the Tannoy as once more, just for a few short seconds, Claire Mason felt a sense of unease building steadily in her thoughts.

Splashing vast amounts of water, the two large strutted wheels of the ‘De Neederland’ began to revolve. With the gangway fully withdrawn, the beautiful, pristine paddle steamer began to set sail…on its final sightseeing tour of Rotterdam’s newly developed docklands.

Inside the Audi, Gerhard’s companion spoke, “well?”

“Your reconnaissance was excellent, well done Jochen.”

“Of course, what else did you expect?” Jochen’s voice was deliberately smug. They both laughed as he put the Audi into gear, driving quickly down the quayside towards the main mass of busy traffic.

With a glint in his eye and a sneer set on his rugged Germanic face, Gerhard could not resist looking back over his shoulder at the paddle steamer slowly making its way down river. As he did so, he caught sight of Claire and John. They were standing on the passenger laden deck of the vessel, clutching its railings, staring straight at him. So what! Gerhard did not feel in the least bit sorry for them, for he was a soldier, trained to Waffen SS rules and doctrine, and this was a time of conflict, of war. A time for chaos and confusion. Yes, there would have to be casualties he thought, that was necessary. Unfortunately the English holidaymakers had been in the wrong place, at the wrong time. So now, to hell with them! All of a sudden, Gerhard felt very angry. How dare the woman tell him he should live side by side with the stinking, fucking Untermenschen. With his thoughts full of repressive loathing, Gerhard pressed a button, his side window slowly winding down, the hum of the electric motor being dulled by the cool breeze blowing into the car. Hatefully, he coughed up a globule of phlegm and spat out at a passing pedestrian. How he wished he could spit on all of them, he thought.

“So, the device is placed and timed?”

“Correct Jochen.”

“Good, any problems?”

“No! It was easy.” Gerhard’s hardened, hate filled eyes looked at his friend, “I didn’t even have to pay the fare.”

“Oh?”

“Two idiot English tourists paid for me. Ha! I hope they enjoy their last hour or so together.”

Laughter, sadistic, vile laughter from both of the Fuhrer’s grenadiers filled the car as they sped on.

“Let’s find a phone kiosk,” said Jochen. Carefully, the Audi moved out into the bustling stream of traffic heading for downtown Rotterdam. “Something is troubling you,” Jochen muttered, his gaze fixed rigidly on the road ahead of him. “I can tell! What’s the matter?”

“Nothing!”

“What do you mean, nothing? What is troubling you?”

Gerhard sighed, “I let my feelings, my hatred for the Untermenschen get the better of me.” Not daring to face Jochen who started to seethe with anger, Gerhard continued to gaze out of the Audi, his face vacant as he waited for his friend’s violent response.

And it came vehemently, “YOU SHOULD NEVER LET YOUR FEELINGS BE KNOWN,” Jochen yelled, “REMEMBER OUR TRAINING! WE ARE DISCIPLINED FIGHTING MEN, WITH A MAJOR TASK AT HAND!”

“I know, it will not happen again.”

“It better hadn’t!” Jochen’s voice was calmer, more controlled. “If Standartenfuhrer Bescann heard of this, he would be furious. Remember Gerhard, we mix casually, easily, we are trained for ruthless deceit, then for the kill.”

Gerhard nodded. Jochen was right, his hatred must never be shown in public again! But for now, he thought, Phase Two of the Fuhrer’s war against the Untermenschen had begun. Not just in Rotterdam, but so too in Nice. At the wonderful funfair, the ‘Parc De Loisirs De Barbossi’, so loved by tourists and locals alike, a device lay deep inside a waste paper bin. And in England, The Trafford Centre Shopping Mall near Manchester and the newly modernised Bull Ring Shopping Arcade in Birmingham had been targeted. All with devices hidden…well hidden!

The carefully selected target areas had one thing in common, to maximise the killing and maiming of as many people as possible! Men, women and children. All of different races, colour and religion. The more deaths…the better. 

And the terrorists who were to take the blame? The European Muslim Freedom Fighters.

As Gerhard and Jochen continued their drive towards Rotterdam’s city centre, only one thing lay on their minds…success!  “Time to sow the seeds of hate again my friend,” whispered Jochen.

“Let’s make the phone call,” replied Gerhard.

5

THE NATURE OF THE BEAST

“Your service record is exemplary Ashley, both with the Parachute Regiment and the Special Air Service. It is a pleasure and an honour to have you with us.”

“I can assure you sir, the honour is mine.” Ash Piper nodded his head, acknowledging the polite gesture of welcome from the dark blue uniformed, high-ranking officer sat in front of him. The officer in question was naturally tanned, with jet-black hair and green eyes. Piper guessed he was at least six feet in height and couldn’t help but notice the aura of pride and authority surrounding the man.

“Sergeant Piper,” said Commander Maurice Hertschell brusquely as Piper realised he had now been reissued with his Parachute Regiment rank, “CEATA was created after the 9/11 attacks on the United States of America. After those truly terrible events occurred, I personally decided to create a highly covert, extremely efficient and utterly lethal counter terrorism organisation attached to NATO.” Sitting straight in his chair and showing no emotion, the Commander in Chief of CEATA continued as Piper listened intently, deeply fascinated with the world he had now entered. “I can assure you Sergeant, only a limited number of people, both within and outside of NATO, know of this organisation. Highly confidential, effective and deadly, those are the rules we live by in CEATA.” Again, Piper nodded. Having worked in the dark world of covert operations himself, he understood the organisation’s need for secrecy. “As you know only too well Sergeant Piper,” Commander Hertschell continued, his face stern, uncompromising, “the world has changed a great deal over the last decade or so. Gone are the days of a strategy to combat the Warsaw Pact. Now our common enemy across Europe and indeed the world, is the dark shadow of global terrorism.”

“I fully understand sir,” Piper replied, the atmosphere in the room, electric.

“Ash,” Charles Mann, sat to Piper’s right, leaned forward, his arms folded, “we have agents in the field all over Europe. We also work closely with our friends in North America, the Russian Federation and with the Israelis. It is our job to seek out terrorists wherever they hide or strike…and eliminate them.” Colonel Mann’s facial expression, although carefully controlled, was unable to hide the hint of menace in his eyes. “No mercy Ash! As far as CEATA are concerned, terrorists are filth. The taking of innocent human lives is totally unacceptable and those who instigate these atrocities must be held fully accountable.”

“Indeed so!” Commander Hertschell’s calm and professional voice intervened, his right index finger pointing directly at Piper. “Sergeant, you are the weapon we are looking for. The powers you have inside you are incredible. We need your assistance, and you know why, don’t you?”

Piper’s fists clenched as he remembered the terrible scenes on the television screen just a few days earlier. The merciless bombings! Men, women and children, all innocent…all dead! “Yes Commander, I do.” Releasing the tension from his fists he spoke, his voice dry, “The European Muslim Freedom Fighters.”

“Precisely,” replied Hertschell. “With Al Qaeda currently moving into and across Europe we thought we had enough to deal with, but now, all of a sudden…these devils appear…” CEATA’s Commander released a long, frustrated sigh, “…and we know absolutely nothing about them.”

“Then it’s about time we did sir!”

“Piper’s right Maurice,” Colonel Mann intervened, “there must be a link somewhere, a clue as to their whereabouts.”

Unexpectedly, as if wanting to break the tension in the room, the phone rang on the Commander’s desk. He picked it up, his stare not leaving Piper’s. “Yes…oh good, send her in please.” Gently replacing the handset Hertschell sat back, a more relaxed look set on his face. “Sergeant, now that you are classed as a CEATA operative Colonel Mann and I want you to meet two key members of our staff who, from now on, will be working closely with you. The first of these very talented people is on her way to us, right now.”

There was a knock on the door. Perfect timing!

Piper turned his head, the door opened and in she stepped, not only into Commander Hertschell’s office but also straight into Ash Piper’s life. “Commander…”

“Doctor Descard.”

“Jeanette…” Charles Mann stood up to greet the beautiful woman in the charcoal grey business suit, her gaze turning purposefully to the dark blonde haired man sat in front of Commander Hertschell.

“Colonel, I see your mission was a success,” Her voice was velvet, her French/English accent, tantalising, her dark brown shoulder length hair gleaming in the office lighting.

“Very much so, Doctor.”

Throughout his adult life Ashley Piper had met many alluringly beautiful women, but at this moment in time he thoughtfully admitted to himself, he had never met a woman, quite like this. 

Commander Hertschell stood up and walked briskly around to the front of his desk. “Sergeant Piper, can I introduce you to Doctor Jeanette Descard, CEATA’s Chief Criminal Psychologist.”

Piper’s smile had not left his face since she had entered the room. Now he stood straight, his arm outstretched in the age-old, human gesture of friendly greeting. “Sergeant Piper, it is a great pleasure to meet you.”

“I can assure you Doctor Descard, the pleasure is all mine.” His handshake was friendly and gentle, his eyes focusing intently on hers.

“Take a seat Jeanette,” the look on Commander Hertschell’s face was inquisitive, searching, “I presume you have brought the DVD recording?” 

“Yes sir.” Hastily the attractive woman cast another furtive glance toward Piper, this time instantly noticing the colour of his eyes, the left being amber, the right, blue.

“Ash,” Piper quickly looked across at Colonel Mann, “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh, what’s that sir?” he sounded surprised.

“Your de-briefing with me upstairs,” the Colonel paused, “well, Commander Hertschell and Doctor Descard were actually listening in at the time.”

Piper smiled knowingly, “I thought someone would be sir.”

“Mmm, very well. The point is Ash, if you are to work with CEATA and quite possibly become one of our field agents, then we have to know more about the nature of the beast inside you.”

Piper waited as Commander Hertschell switched on the televison and DVD player beside him. He turned his gaze to Jeanette Descard whilst she handed him a DVD disc, a slight trace of tension etched on her attractive face. What the hell is on that DVD, he thought?

The Commander in Chief of CEATA spoke again. “Sergeant, the recorded footage you are about to view was filmed by a TASS cameraman in the city of Rostov, in September 2001.” Piper sat utterly intrigued. More surprises, he thought. “All three of us wondered whether it was wise to show this to you at present, given your current circumstances.”

“It was my decision!” Quickly, Piper levelled his gaze at Doctor Descard. Speaking quietly, she switched on the DVD player. “This film footage Sergeant, proves one very important fact with reference to the current predicament you have found yourself in.”

“And that fact being Doctor?” Piper replied, inquisitively.

Jeanette turned and faced CEATA’s newcomer, her face stern. “Sergeant Piper,” she said, “you, and the wolf inside you…are not alone!”

For many people worldwide, the German city of Dusseldorf is well known for its cosmopolitan atmosphere and legendary, ‘happy go lucky’ feeling of warmth and good cheer. Some would even say the beautiful city is in fact the European capital of charm and sophistication.

Helga Zeist certainly thought so, especially since she had moved to the city fourteen years ago. Now, on the fifth floor of Microchip Technology giant ‘Von Kurst Electronics’ Helga passed the last printout of sales figures from the VKE Rome office to the man she had admired and adored for many years.

As Otto Von Kurst, the Chairman and Managing Director of VKE, took hold of the ream of folded facts and figures he looked at her, his eyes warm and bright. Helga always felt a slight rush of excitement pass through her body when she was close to her ex lover and, as his personal secretary, she found herself close to him on many occasions. “That’s fine Helga. Have the same report e-mailed to Mister Bertulusi. Inform him that Mister Oratz will be in contact shortly to organise the date for the sales conference.” The charismatic, athletic looking man with silver grey hair glanced at the report lying neatly on his desk.

You never stop working do you Otto, thought Helga. She sighed and spoke, her voice slightly betraying her emotions. “Please don’t forget Mister Von Kurst, your publicity agent will be phoning you at around nine tomorrow morning. He wishes to discuss your plans for the promotional cocktail evening.” Helga stood by Von Kurst’s large desk, waiting patiently for a reply. It was quite usual for him not to answer immediately; his mind was always on other matters. Helga was used to this. “Is there anything else you require, Mister Von Kurst?”

“No Helga. Thank you.” Otto Von Kurst didn’t look up.

Turning around quickly on the lush carpet, Helga made her way to the office doors. Forty-eight years of age and still as sprightly as a twenty one year old, she looked back at Von Kurst then stepped out of the office and closed the door. Her emotions, as usual, were speaking to her once again. Such a lovely man, she thought. How I miss you Otto! Your warm smile, your loving embrace. Helga paused for a second outside Von Kurst’s office, her thoughts quickly spiralling towards hatred and jealousy. God! That cold, uncaring bitch…the ‘beautiful’ Doctor Franke, why did she take him from me? Silently Helga cursed. How she hated Lana Franke! Oh yes, in the public’s eye they were made for each other, but she knew better. Yes, she knew how manipulative the good Doctor could be with Otto. She seemed to have a hold over him, the man she still loved so very much. HOW DARE SHE! Still quietly cursing, Helga walked down the corridor towards her own office. She shook her head. Control your jealousy she thought, no good will come of it, and there was always Mister Oratz. Yes, he knew Lana Franke very well, and just how devious she could be! Walking crisply back into her office and feeling a little calmer, Helga sat down, turned to her computer and started to prepare an e-mail.

The ringing of his mobile phone took Otto Von Kurst by surprise. Briskly he picked it up, looking quizzically at the flashing facia. The word ORATZ was illuminated. With a slight look of concern on his handsome face he checked the time on the European-based clock attached to the office wall. It was just nineteen minutes to the next series of detonations. Swiftly, Otto Von Kurst’s mind changed gear into overdrive. What was Wilhelm ringing him for he wondered? He brought the phone up to his right ear and spoke, “Wilhelm, I am intrigued as to why you have chosen this time to ring me.”

“My apologies Otto, but we have a problem.”

Von Kurst did not speak. He just sat calmly, waiting for further information from his closest friend and confidante, Wilhelm Oratz, the Sales Director and fellow Board Member of Von Kurst Electronics.

The voice on the phone sounded both irritated and apprehensive, “we have a deserter.”

The reply was instant and icy cold, “I see, which detachment?”

“Amsterdam.”

“How many grenadiers are still at their home base?” The fingertips of Von Kurst’s left hand started tapping his desktop. He was angry, but couldn’t show it.

“Twenty at present, the others are away training.”

Von Kurst exhaled at length, taking care to keep his patience. “The deserter must be found at all costs, and quickly! No doubt he has already been to the authorities. With the information he has he will seek sanctuary. A Safehouse I should think.”

“I agree my Fuhrer. Our men are scouting Amsterdam already for any sign of the wretch.” On the other end of the phone, Wilhelm Oratz’s heart was pounding.

Von Kurst spoke again, slowly, provocatively, “I am disappointed Wilhelm. You assured me, just last evening that all our grenadiers were sworn to the Blood Oath.”

There was silence, then Oratz spoke, his voice slightly faltering over the airwaves, “my deepest apologies my Fuhrer, I feel I have failed you.”

“Enough of your sentimental claptrap Wilhelm. Let us concentrate on the task at hand.”

Oratz knew his Fuhrer well. He imagined him sitting at his large, polished oak desk, infuriated, carefully controlling the blood flow through his body. He spoke again. “The authorities will almost certainly notify the Dutch Security Services my Fuhrer, and as you suggest, they will undoubtedly move the scum to a Safehouse.”

Von Kurst’s fingers still tapped his desk, his thoughts set in deep concentration. “Split the remaining grenadiers into two detachments. One on reconnaissance, the other an assault team. We must discover where the piece of filth will be hiding, and quickly.”

“It will be difficult to locate him my Fuhrer; he has already gone to ground.”

 “No, it will not! I want two grenadiers placed at Schiphol. Order them to keep close to the airport’s railway station.” A smile snaked its way across Von Kurst’s face. He knew he was right! He was following his intuition, his instinct, the gift he had been given. Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck began to stiffen. Yes…he was right! “One man will lead us to the deserter, and he will come soon enough!”