The Lure of the Pack Page 15

  “EXCELLENT WILLHELM, I WILL MAKE A RUSSIAN OF YOU YET, HA!” Again the hearty laugh as Oratz tried to recover his voice. “Otto would not approve…” he coughed, “of you…drinking vodka, Vitali.”

  There was silence then Menkov spoke. “I know! Normally I do not drink alcohol, but one glass will not hurt us and we are here to celebrate as well as to discuss business, let us not forget that!”

  Oratz nodded his head as Viktor returned with two thickly bound menus. “Gentlemen, please take your time and enjoy savouring the delights we have here tonight. Now then, drinks, what can I get you both?”

  “The usual for me Viktor,” said Menkov.

  “Ice cold water, Mister Menkov?”

  Menkov nodded.

  “Fresh orange juice!” As usual there was not a hint of courtesy from Oratz.

  “Of course sir, I will return soon.”

  Wilhelm Oratz opened his leather bound Menu and gazed at the delicious choices in front of him. Vitali Menkov did not. He knew exactly what he was going to order.

  “So Wilhelm,” said Menkov, “you had a pleasant journey to the hotel, with Nikolai?”

  “Pleasant enough,” Oratz gazed intensively at the menu.

  “He is a good man, is he not?”

  “He talks too much, and asks too many questions.”

  “Ha! I shall tell him that, when I see him tomorrow.”

  Oratz looked up, there was something about the way Vitali was talking that intrigued him. “So, I take it Nikolai is someone special, is he?”

  Again, there was a glint in Menkov’s eyes, only this time the glint was slightly menacing. “Nikolai, my dear Wilhelm, is…how can I say…my right hand man, my…lieutenant. Yes, he is very pleasant when you first meet him, but believe me, he is also a psychopath. Nikolai would think nothing of skinning you alive, if I asked him to.”

  “How charming.”

  “Nikolai told me, in his own words, you were…fucking hard work! HA!” Menkov brought his large hands down heavily on the table, making the crockery jump, “YOU ARE STILL AS MISERABLE AS EVER WILHELM! WHY DON’T YOU EVER SMILE?” Oratz did not reply as, for a few brief seconds the restaurant fell quiet.

  “Your drinks, gentlemen.”

  “Excellent Viktor.” Menkov passed the large glass of chilled fresh orange juice to his friend.

  “Are you ready to order, Mister Menkov?”

  “Indeed I am Viktor and I will ignore this menu, even though there is a great deal to tempt my taste buds. No…I will have my usual. For my appetizer I require the large portion of Smoked Venison Loin, with no extras and for the main course…the best steak you have, again, with no extras!”

  “Of course Mister Menkov and cooked as usual…blue?”

  “Yes Viktor, five seconds on each side, that is all I require!”

  “Of course sir, and Mister Oratz?” Wilhelm Oratz looked up at the Maitre d’, a slight look of irritation set firmly on his face. “I am sorry Mister Oratz, if you require more time I can return a little later.” Vitali Menkov noticed how Viktor seemed genuinely embarrassed.

  “No! I will order now.” Slowly, Oratz turned the pages of the large menu once again.

  “For appetizers, the Coquilles of Kamchatka Crab and Scallops and for the main course, the Beef Fillet Stroganoff.”

  “An excellent choice if I may so, Mister Oratz.”

  “Yes, you would, wouldn’t you,” replied Oratz, sarcastically.

  Viktor gathered the menus from the two businessmen, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I trust the music is to your satisfaction, Mister Menkov?”

  Wilhelm Oratz looked carefully at both men, his instincts telling him something was not quite right.

  “It is perfect Viktor, I take it the volume setting will stay the same…throughout our meal?”

  Yes thought Oratz, something is going on here!

  Viktor smiled and bowed his head once again, “of course Mister Menkov, of course.”

  As Viktor walked away, Menkov returned his powerful gaze towards Oratz. “Nikolai warned you of the people following the Jaguar this afternoon, didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Oratz took a slow sip of his orange, its taste refreshing his senses after the pungent assault of the vodka, “why do you ask?”

  Menkov sat back in his chair, “are you, shall I say, concerned about possible eavesdropping on tonight’s conversation?” There was a tense look in Menkov’s amber and brown eyes.

  “To be honest Vitali, yes I am.”

  “Don’t be my friend.” The tense look suddenly eased as Menkov smiled, “I can guarantee you Wilhelm, somewhere in this fine restaurant, an agent, or agents from our Federal Security Service, the FSB, will be trying to listen in on our conversation. This happens all the time, but they are fools.” Oratz looked quizzically at his colleague, his head slightly tilted as he became ever more intrigued. “Viktor is a close confidante of mine. Like many of the staff here, he is not only paid by his employers, but by myself, for, shall I say…certain little favours.” Again, the smile returned as Menkov looked full of mischief. “My dear Wilhelm, the beautiful classical music you listen to in the background gives no hint of what lies in the speaker itself. Whenever I eat here, and believe me I eat here a great deal, Viktor always makes sure a certain, small electronic device is switched on inside the speaker. This device disrupts any electronic surveillance equipment within a one hundred-metre area. So anyone trying to listen in receives only garbled static. Clever, hey?” Menkov took a sip of his water and folded his arms.

  “Very clever indeed Vitali,” said Oratz, his thoughts running amok. “Tell me,” he asked, “the device in the speaker above us, will it disrupt visual monitoring as well?”

  “Yes my friend,” now Menkov looked intrigued.

  “Can you obtain one…for me?”

  Menkov shrugged his shoulders, “yes, I should think so, why?”

  “Oh, shall I say I have a feeling it may…come in useful.” Slowly, thoughtfully, Wilhelm Oratz sat back in his chair, another rare smile sitting ominously on his thin, scrawny face.

  7

  A PURCHASE IN ST PETERSBURG

  “Your expertise in modifying the MP44s has been exceptional Vitali. Otto wanted you to know how pleased we both are.”

  “The modifications have nothing to do with me Wilhelm; I only found the location of the production facility. It is my ex workers from Kalashnikov you should be thanking.”

  Wilhelm Oratz nodded his head in appreciation, “it is ironic, isn’t it my friend? Your fellow countrymen stole the blueprint for their AK47s from German inventiveness and now, we steal it back!”

  “My weapons production people are geniuses, their modifications, second to none. We can manufacture and supply any type of weapon you wish…so long as the price is right!” Menkov laughed, the smile on his face quickly vanishing as the pupils in his amber and brown eyes narrowed to fine slits. “So, my dear Wilhelm, tell me…” it was time to dispense with pleasantries, “why did you order a hold on the arms shipments?”

  “Unfortunately we have encountered, shall I say…a problem.”

  “Oh?”

  “Our warehouse facility, where the shipments are stored?” Menkov nodded his head as he listened carefully, “Building Four has been infiltrated. The intruder gained access through our infrared security system, he was a highly trained specialist, well versed in covert operations.” Oratz loosened the tie and collar of his pristinely clean, white shirt, “it has been…a disturbing setback!”

  Menkov sat back and took a sip of his ice-cold water. “Mmm, you say…HE, obviously you have an idea who this intruder is?” There was no reply from Oratz as he began scratching the birthmark under the right side of his chin. “What are Otto’s thoughts on this matter?” Menkov’s voice was cold.

  “The intruder and whoever he works for are a thorn in our sides, but we still go ahead as planned as time is of the essence. That is why I am here, discussing this matter with you.” Oratz began to sweat. H
e took a handkerchief from his suit pocket and dabbed it across his forehead, “this matter concerns the Were. There is a lone wolf in our midst; we think it is the same man.” Putting the handkerchief back in place, Oratz’s voice became a whisper, “…he is hunting Otto.” Even with the delightful rhythms of classical music playing softly in the background, the atmosphere surrounding the two men had become distinctly tense.

  “I have also sensed the lone wolf and certain other issues of concern,” said Menkov, “I also sense deep anxiety in Otto.” Oratz nodded his head as Menkov let out a long sigh, as if his thoughts were suddenly elsewhere, then Oratz realised…they were.

  “How I used to enjoy the hunt with Otto, our strength, our unity, the power of two…working as one. Our kills were always so imaginative.” Menkov paused, his face pallid as vivid memories flooded back. “Who would have thought hey Wilhelm, all those years ago, when I was only fourteen years old, that fate would lead me into the path of a stray wolf whose pack line had previously fed on human remains from Nazi werewolf experiments.” Just for a moment Wilhelm Oratz thought he saw a look of sorrow cross Menkov’s hardened facial features. “I remember the look on my father’s face when the wolf attacked. He had taken me hunting on the outskirts of Volgograd when the animal appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. My father shot the beast as it tore into me, killing it. But the damage…was done. As you are well aware my friend, the wolf’s saliva infected me with the genetically engineered werewolf DNA. Little did I know then, how those wounds would change my life.”

  “Otto has told me of your friendship many times over, and of how you met his father. Karl was of great assistance to you during your transformation, was he not?”

  “Yes, poor Karl, a man of great courage and honour. It was such a pity he could not live with the wolf any longer. Otto told me of his father’s abhorrence of the hunt, especially the killing of children. It took its toll on his soul, I fear.” Lifting his glass, Menkov gazed into it, the ice-cold water reflecting his stare like a crystal ball. “Karl’s contact, help and guidance during my transformation, was so greatly appreciated. The Were watch over each other very carefully. For all I know, we may only be a handful of human-wolf kind, but above all else, we are totally unique.” Menkov’s gaze slid from the glass, across the table to Oratz. “But tell me, and be truthful Wilhelm…” Oratz’s heart thumped, he sensed Menkov’s next question would not be a pleasant one. And it wasn’t! “Who made sure Karl…was dead?”

  “Otto did!” The answer was straight to the point. “The media were told Karl had committed suicide, he couldn’t cope with the stress from all the years of directing VKE.”

  Menkov sat back, his thoughts racing, “what happened?”

  “Otto had discussed the hunt time and again with Karl. He tried so hard to assist his father in coming to terms with the animal inside him. But it was no use. Of course, when Otto was a boy, he knew there was something not quite right with Karl, but the truth did not reveal itself until much later. Then, as you know, Otto pleaded for his father’s blood, which after much deliberation, he gave him. But the memories of the experiments and the screams from his human prey were still so vivid. Karl could not live with himself any longer.” Oratz paused, his breathing shallow. He took another sip of orange as a waiter refilled his glass and moved on.

  “Tell me more about the experiments Wilhelm. Otto always changed the subject when I tried to dig deeper.”

  Oratz shrugged his shoulders, what the hell, he thought! “The concept of the project Karl became involved in was to create a new breed of Waffen SS soldier…a wolf soldier, with the strength, power and cunning of a wild wolf. The scientists and doctors utilised a special, highly secret camp for the initial trials, namely the injections of the wolf DNA into their human subjects. From what Otto had told me, there was a great deal of suffering during the initial stages, but that did not matter, the first…guinea pigs, were just filthy Untermenschen! No, the grim reality of Project Were was only, truly realised when Karl, Jurgen and Fritz offered themselves for further trials. They had to, the war was reaching its final stages, with the Communists and the Allies moving ever closer to Berlin.” Another drink of orange was required as Oratz’s throat began to feel very dry, “as you are fully aware, the rest, as the old saying goes…is history.”

  Menkov nodded, the look in his eyes telling Oratz further answers were required. “But what of the initial success of Project Were, what happened to the others, from the early trials?”

  “No one knows! All Otto told me was that side effects were common at first, especially feelings of great depression, of paranoia, schizophrenia, all leading to suicide.”

  “Mmm, two personalities in one mind, one human, the other a wild predator, yes…a God to be sure!”

  “What did you say?” Oratz leaned forward inquisitively.

  “Oh…nothing my friend, nothing! So, tell me…how did Karl die?”

  “He shot himself through the skull. After a quick autopsy, Otto had to swiftly remove Karl’s head, before the healing process began! ”

  “Fucking hell!”

  “Remember Vitali, Karl was going insane. He could stomach the hunt no longer! That is why Jurgen and Fritz had to leave him alone. They live for the hunt, just like you!”

  “And what of Otto, does he live for the hunt?” Again, Menkov’s eyes narrowed to fine slits. There was silence!

  Be very careful with this answer thought Oratz, “yes, I’m sure he does.”

  “Mmm, I am not so sure my friend. Something is greatly troubling him at present and it is not just the lone wolf.”

  “Are you still in contact with the others?”

  “Yes, two live in the Taiga, they prefer the company of their wild brothers and sisters, like Falck and Kempler. As for my comrade in the SVR, he has pledged his allegiance to our cause. I have promised to hunt with him when I next visit Moscow.”

  “Your Were colleague in the SVR, how often does he hunt?”

  “Not as much as he would like. He is based in Moscow, so his time for carnivory,” Menkov laughed, his gaze returning to the glass of cold water, “…is shall I say…limited.”

  “But the authorities, surely they must know of his existence? I mean…the remains from the kills.” Oratz swallowed hard, his voice quivering slightly.

  “Oh yes, the authorities know of his existence, but not his true identity. Besides, they always turn a blind eye when a fresh kill is discovered, believe me!” Silence crept in again as Menkov sipped his water, the look on his face now of cold, ruthless cunning. Change the subject thought Oratz, quickly, “Otto was very pleased when you heeded his advice, Vitali!”

  “What! Oh…the Rostov incident. Ah yes, after that I could stay in the city no longer! Ha, September 2001, my…how time flies by!” Menkov’s amber and brown eyes suddenly became aglow with passion. A passion for the hunt!

  “You were far too foolhardy, you killed too many times. Otto was greatly annoyed at your, what he called…stupidity!”

  Angrily Menkov growled, a low growl, just audible as he sat bolt upright, staring deep into Oratz’s eyes. “When was the last time Otto hunted…my dear Wilhelm?” Oratz scratched at his birthmark again. “Well Wilhelm, I am waiting for your reply!”

  Oratz didn’t like the look in the Russian’s eyes, but he was not prepared to be brow beaten. “You know as well as I do, Otto controls his urges. He has to, he cannot afford any mishaps due to the position he holds at VKE!”

  “And that is where Otto’s weakness lies, my dear friend, HA!” Hastily, Menkov’s hands smashed down on the table, the crockery shaking once again, “the Were need the hunt! It is our symbol of strength, of power, to taste the flesh and blood of our prey. The more we kill, the more powerful we become. Otto is mistaken trying to control his urges. He will grow weak if he continues to do so.”

  “There is nothing weak about Otto, Vitali. You know that, he is as powerful as ever!”

  “Is he now?” It was the way Menkov’s lips
turned downwards that made Wilhelm Oratz shiver slightly. Did the man in front of him, this powerful Russian werewolf, know something that Otto didn’t? “Listen to me Wilhelm,” Menkov continued, “Otto must kill when he feels the urge, when he feels the hunt coursing through his veins. When you return to Dusseldorf, you can tell him I said that…it is important!”

  “I will!”

  “Good,” Menkov hesitated, then sat back, “but my good friend, you are right of course,” the tone in the Russian businessman’s voice became calmer, making Oratz breathe a little easier. “Yes…Rostov! I was foolhardy, but it was such a challenge. The city was ideal for the hunt. So many hideaways in the darkened streets and the houses, so easily entered. The hunt for human flesh is difficult here, now I kill only when I have too, ha, the police always think my kills are the result of mafia violence. That suits me fine!”

  “You took far too many risks in Rostov; you know that! Otto tried to warn you in your dreamscape. As soon as we heard of the attacks by the Rostov Ripper, we knew instantly that it was you.”

  “HA!” Menkov opened his arms wide in a gesture of open compliance, “and…you were both right! But it was the challenge my friend, eighteen killings over seven weeks! Men, women and children, ah, how I surpassed myself, and the police could do nothing, they were helpless, dim-witted fools. HA!”

  “Keep your voice down Vitali.” There was an urgent feeling of panic coursing through the German businessman’s veins. Shit he thought, if anyone could hear this conversation!

  “What have I told you Wilhelm, no one can hear us? This little corner is ideal for interesting conversations and besides, as I have already stated, the device in the speaker above us will disrupt any electronic surveillance, so relax!”

  Wilhelm Oratz breathed a little easier, the smell from the kitchens enticing his taste buds. Where the hell is the food he thought, I’m starving? “Anyway,” he continued, “Otto breathed a huge sigh of relief when you moved here. When you were hunting in Rostov he became greatly concerned that at some time or other your exploits would be captured on film.”