The Lure of the Pack Page 14

  “Well, I have complete faith in you my friend. Who did you send the application to?”

  “Von Kurst’s secretary, Ms Helga Zeist. She seems to be handling everything.”

  “Fine, and my background credentials?”

  Nick had his usual mischievous smile sat smugly on his face, “you know me Ash, I’ve played around with certain, how shall I say, important elements of this particular newspaper’s facts and figures. You’ve been employed with the FT for just over one year and hope to gain a personal interview with Mister Von Kurst himself.”

  “Along with every other reporter at the event,” the gentle female voice made Piper turn around as Jeanette Descard walked into the Colonel’s office and sat down.

  “MI5 in London are also helping us with this assignment,” Colonel Mann continued as Piper listened attentively, “they have placed a contact in the Financial Times’ offices who will officially confirm your position, if it is requested of course.”

  “Good, so all we do now is wait for the confirmation?” asked Piper.

  “That’s if you’re lucky enough to get one?” Jeanette Descard’s voice had a troubled tone about it.

  Piper turned to her, a look of determination set firmly on his face. “Oh, I’ll receive an invitation to this promotional evening, of that I’m certain.”

  “Tell me Ash, why are you so hell bent on meeting Von Kurst face to face? This just seems like madness to me.”

  “Von Kurst knows I’m coming Jeanette, I can sense his feelings, we are destined to meet. This man holds the keys to my past and my future.”

  “But you said before, in no uncertain terms, that you must kill him. If he knows you’re coming then you’re walking straight into a trap!”

  “Quite possibly,” Piper’s voice suddenly became a whisper, “it’s so strange…I just feel drawn to Von Kurst, like he’s calling me, goading me to a confrontation.”

  “Sergeant Piper knows the risk he is taking Doctor and we’ll have back up right behind him. As you well know, CEATA Followers are monitoring Von Kurst’s every movement. They will all be ready to assist when the time comes, if, they are required.”

  “Very well Colonel,” Jeanette looked openly worried and tense, “but I have a very bad feeling about this!”

  “MISTER ORATZ, PLEASE, JUST A FEW WORDS, PLEASE.” There were camera flashes everywhere, voices too, many of them, men and women, all reporters, all begging for the first interview with the millionaire businessman bringing new, exciting opportunities to St Petersburg.

  “WE WILL BE GRATEFUL FOR AN INTERVIEW MISTER ORATZ, IF YOU PLEASE, WE ARE FROM TASS!”

  “MISTER ORATZ, CBS NEWS, WE’VE TRAVELLED A LONG WAY, ANY CHANCE OF A FEW WORDS!”

  “FROM TOMMOROW, INTERVIEWS BEGIN TOMORROW!” Nikolai Yosko, the black moustached, leather jacketed, well-built man standing next to Wilhelm Oratz was well prepared to move his guest quickly through the mass of people milling around them. “Take no notice of them Mister Oratz, keep close to me, the car is just outside.”

  It was raining and chilly. With a sigh and a shiver, Oratz pulled up the collar of his thick black greatcoat as he walked quickly towards the dark blue Jaguar XJS.

  Smiling, Nikolai opened the boot and put Oratz’s two large suitcases inside. “Sorry about that Mister Oratz, Mister Menkov wanted you away as quickly as possible. As of tomorrow, there will be plenty of time for interviews.”

  Oratz nodded his head.

  “Did you have a pleasant flight?”

  “Yes!”

  “Good, you will enjoy your stay at the Grand Hotel Europe, it is St Petersburg’s very finest hotel. Mister Menkov chose it especially.”

  “Fine!”

  “You will like St Petersburg Mister Oratz, everyone likes St Petersburg.”

  “Fine!”

  “The people here are very friendly.”

  “Good!”

  “Do you like the car, it’s beautiful isn’t it! Mister Menkov imported it from England last year. Only the best, hey?”

  “Of course!”

  As Oratz gave another brief, uncomplimentary reply, Yosko slowly scanned the area, as if he was looking for something, or someone. Yes, there they are he thought, as always! He smirked to himself openly as he courteously opened Oratz’s door. Within seconds they both sat in the dazzling car’s luxurious interior and adjusted their seat belts. Putting the Jaguar into gear, Yosko slowly manoeuvred onto the main roadway leading from the busy airport and started the journey into the heart of what is quite possibly Russia’s most beautiful city. “Mister Oratz, I must inform you, we are being followed.” Still the smile lay etched on Yosko’s face, as if he didn’t care.

  “I thought we might be!” Wilhelm Oratz showed no emotion as he gazed at the traffic in front of him.

  “The FSB are fucking idiots! They watch Mister Menkov all the time, ha, how they waste their time, and ours!” Oratz sat stern faced, his black moustached chauffer continuing to exchange pleasantries, or at least…trying to. “So, this is an exciting trip for you, the start of a new business venture between Von Kurst Electronics and Menkov and Co. I have seen the site for the new factory. It will be very impressive when it is built.” Again, there was no reply, the Jaguar smoothly moving on with Nikolai concentrating carefully on his driving. He tried again to be polite, this time with a thought-provoking question, “these terrorist atrocities across Europe are causing a great deal of violence in many countries aren’t they? It is interesting from our point of view, what do you think Mister Oratz?” There was still no response, just the usual stern faced look. Nikolai soon gave up his polite small talk, keeping silent for the rest of the journey. This Wilhelm Oratz is not an easy man to talk to he thought, but who gives a fuck, so long as I get him to the hotel on time.

  Lying on the delta of the River Neva, with a population of approximately 5.5 million, the city of St Petersburg is well known across the world as The Venice of the North. Formerly named Petrograd then Leningrad, the city has undergone tremendous change since the dark days of World War Two, when occupying Nazi forces laid siege to the city and its inhabitants for nearly nine hundred days. During this terrible time the city lost approximately eight hundred thousand of its population, mostly through starvation and disease.

  Nowadays, the Venice of the North is a vibrant, bright city with tourists constantly flocking in to view some of the world’s most breathtaking, finest architecture, some dating back to the time of Peter the Great. And in the heart of it all, sits Russia’s most famous street. Nevsky Prospekt is always popular with both the city’s inhabitants and tourists alike. It is also the central location for the Grand Hotel Europe.

  “Ah, Nevsky Prospekt, we are nearly at the Hotel, Mister Oratz,”

  “Fine!”

  Nikolai Yosko seemed genuinely pleased to be nearing the end of his journey, “are you planning time for any shopping while you are here Mister Oratz?” A boyish grin sat impishly on the rugged Russian’s face, “if you are, the shops on this street will sell anything you require, believe me!”

  “No, I will be far too busy!”

  “Oh…okay, well…we’re here!” Thank fuck for that, thought Nikolai as he pulled the Jaguar up close to the main doors of the Grand Hotel Europe’s lavish reception area. “I will bring your cases in Mister Oratz, just make your way to the reception, you are expected.” Oratz opened the door of the Jaguar and without a word of thanks to his driver, slowly got out. As the Sales Director of Von Kurst Electronics walked briskly into the main reception, Nikolai removed his two suitcases, placed them on the pavement and closed the Jaguar’s boot. He didn’t bother to lock the XJS; there was no need. As he gripped the handles of the cases again, he glanced around him. With a slight nod of his head, Nikolai acknowledged his comrades sitting in the two Mercedes across from the hotel. The men, two in each car, were from a certain faction of the city’s Mafia. They were bodyguards, both for the visiting German businessman and also for their employer, who would be arriving late
r.

  “It is truly a pleasure and may I say an honour to have you staying with us, Mister Oratz.” The radiant warm smile was probably meant thought Oratz as he looked at the name on the Duty Manager’s badge. Ms Irina Yentl opened the Grand Hotel Europe’s thickly bound guest book and politely asked for various details to be written down. Oratz obliged. “We do not require any deposit Mister Oratz, Mister Menkov has seen to all payments. Now…” the smiling, seemingly happy woman turned around and fumbled through various notes and letters lying in small open boxes to the side of her, “ah yes, here it is!” With another smile Ms Yentl passed over a sealed envelope, which Oratz quickly took from her, “this arrived half an hour ago for you.”

  Oratz put the gold leaf trimmed envelope in his inside coat pocket. “I trust the reservation for dinner has been reconfirmed?” he asked.

  Irina smiled again, “yes sir! Mister Menkov will be joining you in the Caviar Restaurant for eight thirty this evening. I am sure you will greatly enjoy your dinner.”

  Again, there was no major response from Oratz, only a slight nod of the head as he picked up the key to room number 23 and walked off. “BRING MY LUGGAGE TO MY ROOM,” he shouted.

  By this time Nikolai Yosko was standing in the foyer, with the two suitcases. As Oratz left the reception area, Nikolai turned to Irina, “he’s fucking hard work, isn’t he?”

  Irina smiled openly. They knew each other well, for Irina was not only on the payroll for the Grand Hotel Europe, but also Vitali Menkov’s. “So what, that’s life Nikolai, if Mister Menkov wants us to take care of him, then so be it!” She shrugged her shoulders, “now, do me a favour and take his bags to his room will you?”

  “Of course!”

  As Nikolai walked to the lift, Irena gazed at him with a certain look of amusement in her eyes. Just don’t expect a tip, she thought!

  “Put the bags down there!” Nikolai did so then stood silently in the doorway of the magnificent, ornately decorated room. “Well,” muttered Oratz, “just close the door behind you!”

  With a certain look of disgruntlement, Nikolai swiftly vacated the bedroom. Miserable, tight fisted shit he thought.

  With the door closed, Oratz hastily took the envelope from his coat pocket and carefully opened it. The paper was of superb quality, he expected nothing less. Pulling off his overcoat, he sat in one of several beautiful armchairs and with an intense look on his face began to read his important message.

  WILHELM,

  I AM HAPPY TO HEAR OF YOUR SAFE ARRIVAL IN ST PETERSBURG AND LOOK FORWARD TO MEETING WITH YOU TONIGHT.

  20.30 HOURS - THE CAVIAR RESTAURANT.

  YOURS:

  V.M.

  Oratz carefully tore the letter into small strips and threw it into the waste paper bin near the large, king-sized double bed. Perfect he thought, a rare, wicked smile etching its way across his face. He sat back, his thoughts racing. It was the code he had been waiting for: SAFE ARRIVAL IN ST PETERSBURG! The device was in the city itself, the device that would soon transform Europe’s future…for the better.

  “…and while many European companies are watching their share prices fall due to the current terrorist activity across Europe, Von Kurst Electronics’ have increased dramatically, with the arrival of the Microchip giant’s Sales Director in St Petersburg. The company, with its head office and manufacturing base in Dusseldorf, are gaining maximum television and press coverage for the announcement of their new factory, to be built on the outskirts of the city. Already there is a great deal of speculation and interest regarding VKE’s new microchip technology, details of which are due to be announced on Thursday. Sky News requested interviews with Mister Otto Von Kurst, the Managing Director and Company Chairman of VKE and his Sales Director, Mister Wilhelm Oratz. Unfortunately both gentlemen declined, saying interviews will be conducted as of tomorrow. Meanwhile on the American markets…”

  “Interesting, hey Ash?” The Sky News financial report had brought Piper over to the large screen in front of Nick Lucas.

  “Yes, what time are tomorrow’s interviews with Oratz?”

  “From what I can see, everything kicks off at 09.00, local time. According to his private database, which yours truly hacked into, he really is a busy man. If he’s not giving interviews he’s attending meetings regarding their new production site. Its construction begins in July.”

  “Mmm,” Piper paused, “is there any information on Oratz’s database regarding the identities of the people he is meeting, anyone who appears regularly on his itinerary?”

  Nick typed at his keyboard, bringing up recorded notes of the facts and figures regarding Wilhelm Oratz’s visit to St Petersburg. “Yeah, one guy…Vitali Menkov. Looks like he’s some sort of businessman.”

  Piper patted Nick on his shoulder, “do me a favour my friend, run a check on him!”

  “No problem!”

  “Ah, Mister Menkov, welcome…welcome,” Viktor Borzoi, the Maitre d’ of the Grand Hotel Europe’s Caviar Bar and Restaurant briskly shook hands with the tall, ruggedly athletic, some would say elegant businessman standing in front of him.

  It was 8.30 p.m.

  “It is good to see you again, Viktor.”

  “As always Mister Menkov, it is a pleasure.” Viktor Borzoi’s smile and handshake were genuinely warm for he had a great deal of respect for the powerful looking man standing with the two hefty, well dressed men by his side.

  “I take it my special guest is already waiting?” There was a significant glint of power in Menkov’s eyes, which came as no surprise to Borsoi, for an aura of power always seemed to follow his most valued customer.

  “Indeed so Mister Menkov, Mister Oratz awaits your company at your…” Borzoi paused, then smiled, “…usual table.”

  “Good!”

  “Please, follow me!”

  Menkov turned to the two men accompanying him, “stay here!” They nodded their agreement.

  With the ever-present smile on his face, Borzoi walked across the grandiose restaurant, acknowledging various guests as he did so. His charming smile was always steadfast, his pride apparent, for the Grand Hotel Europe’s main dining area was splendidly furbished. From the surrounding highly polished marble décor, to the large mirrors reflecting the beautifully radiant indoor fountain, the restaurant was truly a sight to behold. “Mister Oratz, your guest has arrived!”

  Wilhelm Oratz quickly left the comfort of his chair and gazed at the man now standing proudly across from him. “Vitali!”

  “WILHELM!” Vitali Menkov’s voice reverberated loudly as he threw his muscular arms open in a steadfast gesture of friendship. Walking briskly up to his old friend, he hugged Wilhelm Oratz and kissed him on each cheek. “HA, MY FRIEND!” Menkov released his powerful grip, “YOU LOOK WELL AS ALWAYS, BUT STILL A LITTLE TOO THIN. I MUST ASK VIKTOR TO FATTEN YOU UP TONIGHT!” Menkov laughed, a hearty laugh, making the other guests in the restaurant smile.

  As usual, Oratz kept straight-faced, not caring to return the Russian gesture of friendship. Instead, he shook hands politely, but firmly, “it is good to see you again Vitali, I have been greatly looking forward to this evening.”

  Again the booming voice thundered around the restaurant. “ME TOO MY FRIEND, AH…” Menkov paused, holding the index finger of his right hand upwards near his cheek, then turned to face a small loudspeaker issuing gentle, delightful tones of classical music. He turned to Viktor, who smiled openly. “Viktor,” Menkov’s voice suddenly lowered somewhat, much to the delight of Wilhelm Oratz, “Alexander Porphiryevich Borodin…”, Borzoi bowed his head in appreciation as Menkov continued, “…Symphony Number Two in B Minor! Ah Viktor, you spoil me!”

  Wilhelm Oratz looked at the Restaurant’s Maitre‘d, then again at Menkov.

  “Of course Mister Menkov, just for you.” Borzoi was openly pleased with the token of appreciation.

  “And to be followed by…?” There was another glint in Menkov’s eyes, in particular, his amber one.

  “Glazunov and Shosta
kovich, Mister Menkov.”

  “PERFECT VIKTOR, PERFECT!” Again the loud booming voice, showing all in the vicinity that Vitali Menkov was in a very cheerful mood.

  “Please gentlemen, your seats!” The two businessmen sat down as Menkov’s favourite classical music played pleasantly in the background.

  “What more could we ask for, hey Wilhelm?” The Russian businessman gazed deeply into the eyes of Von Kurst Electronics’ Sales Director as Oratz returned the gaze, noticing the tell tale sign of adrenaline pumping through his Russian friend’s veins. Vitali’s eyes thought Oratz; they were always so fascinating. Amber on the left, dark brown on the right.

  “Now then Wilhelm, we cannot begin the evening without a toast. Viktor!”

  “Vitali,” Oratz had a slight tremble in his voice, “please remember, I do not drink alcohol.”

  “Nonsense my friend, you shall have one glass, to toast our joyous reunion and of course…” Menkov paused and smiled, “our business arrangement!”

  There was no need for Viktor Borzoi to ask which vodka would be ordered for the toast, he knew perfectly well. Within minutes the Maitre‘d had returned, with two small crystal glasses filled with clear liquid, “Sinopskaya, Mister Menkov, only the best, as usual.”

  “Excellent, now please…Wilhelm,” Menkov passed a glass to his friend and brought his to face height, “I propose a toast!” Oratz brought his glass to face height, not bearing to think of the taste that was about to assault his senses. “To free enterprise my friend, long may it continue!”

  “Amen to that,” replied Oratz, with a certain look of trepidation on his face. Within a second Menkov’s glass was empty as Oratz’s touched his thin, dry lips.

  “Down in one Wilhelm, don’t disappoint me!”

  Oratz flipped the vodka into his mouth, the burning of the strong, intoxicating liqueur seemingly setting his tongue and throat on fire. He coughed and put the glass down.