The Lure of the Pack Read online

  “Mmm!” Again came a telling, thought ridden look in Menkov’s eyes, a look perhaps pertaining to hidden secrets. “Actually Wilhelm,” Menkov smiled, a sinister smile, “I was caught on film.”

  “WHAT?”

  “Gentlemen, if you please!”

  “Ah, Viktor, perfect timing! Food at last!”

  “As Europe ignites after further horrifying terrorist attacks, we will bring you up to date with events, as and when they happen. This is Rick Wellinger, for CBS News…”

  “The world’s news channels are revelling in this!” Jean-Paul looked across at Nick Lucas.

  “Yeah I know, what’s the current update on revenge attacks?”

  “Not good, I’m just compiling information regarding areas of violence and total casualties. Many police forces are struggling. There’s talk of martial law and curfews in the UK and France. These attacks by armed gangs seem to be so well co-ordinated, it’s really alarming, and now Muslim and immigrant youths are fighting back. There’s going to be a bloodbath if something isn’t done, and quickly!”

  “So werewolves do exist?” Tim Winters’ smiling face peered through the door into Ash Piper’s small, but comfortable sleeping quarters.

  “Come on in Tim and make yourself at home, if you can call this home!” The smiles on both men’s faces were relaxed and warm. Ever since their first meeting in the Parachute Regiment, there had developed a true feeling of deep, professional friendship between the two well-trained combatants. “How’d the meeting go?” asked Piper.

  “Very well, the FSB are pledging full support once again. We’re taking White Swan to its next phase within a couple of weeks. The Commander and Colonel are confident we can get results and close the bastards down. I’m looking forward to hitting back at the shits and hopefully saving a few kids’ lives in the process!”

  “Good for you Tim, when do you leave for Moscow?”

  Was there a hint of sadness in Piper’s voice, thought Winters? “Tomorrow morning, 03.00 hours, that’s why I’ve called in now, I probably won’t get a chance to see you later.”

  Piper put his newspaper down, the headlines being full of the recent atrocities by the European Muslim Freedom Fighters. He got up from his bed and held out his hand, “Tim, just promise me one thing will you?”

  Winters returned the gesture, they both shook warmly, “what’s that Ash?”

  “You just make sure you look after yourself!”

  “I will, that’s a promise.” Just for a few seconds there was silence, then Winters spoke again, “what’s troubling you?”

  Piper sat down; there was a curious look in his blue and amber eyes. “We are two soldiers fighting on different fronts, but in the same war and for the same cause!” Winters looked on, his expression openly inquisitive. “The war we are fighting Tim, you in Moscow and me hopefully soon, in Dusseldorf,” now there was a hint of anger on Piper’s face, “there is a connection, I’m sure of it!”

  “I know Ash! We think the same, that’s what I’ve been discussing with the Commander and Colonel. I hate to say this, but I can’t help feeling that we’re being drawn into something sinister, something evil.”

  “I know what you mean Tim. The stakes are high, far higher than we could ever imagine. There’s a pack of them out there, a pack of werewolves, of my kind and they’re hell bent on destruction and chaos. I can sense them…and they can sense me.”

  Winters nodded, “why did you never mention it…the wolf, the attack when you were a boy?”

  “There was no need to, no need whatsoever!”

  “You know Ash, back with the Paras, all the lads in the regiment thought your eyes were so freaky. I mean, amber and blue…of course, now I know why!”

  “Obviously the Commander and Colonel have told you all about me?”

  “Yes, although I’m still finding it hard to believe! Shit, fucking werewolves!” Slowly, Winters made his way to the door, “well, I’d best get packed and get some sleep. I’ll see you soon mate, all the best!”

  Piper quickly strode over to Winters and gripped his shoulder. It was a powerful grip, speaking of emotion and long lasting friendship. “Tim, for God’s sake watch your back and trust no one, promise me!”

  “No problem my friend, no problem.” They shook hands again, then Winters closed the door behind him. At the same time Ash Piper clenched his fists and grimaced as the hairs on the back of his neck slowly started to stiffen.

  Even in his world of self opinionated, egotistical glory, Wilhelm Oratz had to admit that the taste enveloping his tongue was quite exquisite. He closed his eyes as he savoured the fresh Kamchatka crab, in Butter Sauce a la Russe. If it was one thing the Sales Director of Von Kurst Electronics greatly enjoyed in life, it was fine food.

  “Ah, a look of pure delight Wilhelm, but sadly, still no smile, HA!” Vitali Menkov gazed down at the two large pieces of blood drenched venison loin on the plate in front of him. “Wonderful,” he whispered. Eloquently, Menkov cut through the tender flesh, a low growl emanating from his throat as Oratz quickly looked around at the other guests in the restaurant, all of whom seemed to be enjoying their own conversation. “Tell me Wilhelm, does my wolf form worry you?” asked Menkov, taking his first bite of the rare, bloody deer meat.

  “No, of course not, with being so close to Otto I am well accustomed to the Were, besides, don’t try and change the subject! I want to know exactly what happened in Rostov!”

  Menkov chewed thoughtfully, his mind wandering back to the dark house on Sorev Street. He smiled, “the fucking idiots,” Oratz looked on in keen fascination, “how I enjoyed playing with them all!”

  “What do you mean?”

  Menkov held up his right hand, his sharp knife dripping blood down its silver blade. It was a gesture to warn his German friend to be patient, for now he was relishing the thought of the slaughter he had initiated that cold September evening. “The police had me cornered, or so they thought! Ha, fools! Yes, we have the Rostov Ripper at last…so, what did they do, they sent three men in, after me. Ha!” Menkov took another mouthful of venison, yet again administering his sense of taste to its bloody texture with another low growl, “of course I had killed the family, they were easy prey. How they all screamed as I tore their bodies apart!” Oratz’s gaze was held in wonderment by that of the man sitting opposite him, the man relishing the merciless, wanton slaughter of human kind. “But the best was yet to come, my dear Wilhelm!”

  “You killed police officers?”

  “Oh yes my friend, and spread their bodies and their blood all over the kitchen. The hunger inside me was so dynamic, their meat and bone marrow, so…exquisite!”

  “And…”

  “Then ‘they’ arrived, by helicopter…”

  Oratz stopped eating, a troubled look sat firmly on his pale face, “who…arrived by helicopter?”

  Menkov chewed again as he leaned forward, piercing Wilhelm Oratz’s very soul with a look of intense emotion, “the fucking Spetsnaz team,” he whispered.

  “God…” Oratz swallowed hard on a piece of crab, lifted his glass and drank quickly.

  “They were so confident, so pig-headed, our armed forces specialist commandos. HA! All armed…to the teeth, so to speak…” Menkov’s dry wit was wasted on Oratz whose thoughts were lost in the scenes being described to him. The Russian took another bite of venison, mopping a slight trickle of blood from under his chin with a napkin. “So…they broke into the house. How they must have shit themselves at the scenes confronting them, I could almost taste their fear. They knew I was in the master bedroom, so they moved up the stairs. I started to growl, just a low growl at first, oh the joys of being…A GOD!”

  “Vitali,” Oratz snapped out of his trance like state, once again Menkov’s voice was too loud! “What did I tell you, keep your voice down!”

  Menkov continued, his tone much lower, “I slaughtered several of them in the house, then smashed my way out. They gave chase, with a TASS news team right behind them.�
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  “What…oh shit!”

  “Wait Wilhelm, I have not finished!” Oratz nodded in stupefied compliance. “The TASS Cameraman did film me, yes, he must have. But after a thoroughly enjoyable chase, I lured them all to their deaths. Ha! These soldier boys think they are so fucking invincible. I finished them off far too easily in a back alley, then slipped out of sight as the police arrived.” Another slice of venison slithered down Menkov’s throat as he gripped his glass of water. He growled again, a narrow smile etching its way across his face.

  “Fuck!” Wilhelm Oratz was concerned.

  “The Were are Gods, Wilhelm. We are not mere human beings. Otto knows this, so do Falck and Kempler, this is why they prefer their wild forms. Oh, how I enjoyed their company when Karl introduced me to them…all those years ago!”

  “I see,” Oratz finished the crab and put his eating utensils to the side of the plate. Menkov did the same. “It is strange Vitali, the way you talk of being a God. Otto would not approve of this and I don’t think Falck and Kempler would, either.”

  Vitali Menkov raised his near empty glass, his index finger pointing at his German friend. “Wilhelm, you are wrong. Otto knows how powerful we are, but I fear he is becoming like his father. The wolf inside him needs to kill!” Menkov shook his head and sighed, “no my friend, the Were are gods! We are…unbeatable!” He drank again, put the glass down and looked across the restaurant toward Viktor. He nodded his head as the Maitre d’ walked slowly over to them, his smile as always, ever present. “Now Wilhelm, before our main point of discussion, tell me about the new alpha female of our pack?”

  Wilhelm Oratz’s mouth fell open as Viktor arrived at the table, removed the empty plates and ordered further drinks for his VIP customers.

  “Vitali Menkov, of ‘Menkov and Co’, a legitimate businessman based in St Petersburg, formerly from Rostov.” Nick Lucas wore his usual bright smile as he looked around at his colleagues in Commander Hertschell’s office. “There’s not a great deal on the file from the FSB sir, but they have confirmed their interest in monitoring the man’s activities, which they have been doing for some time! It seems he may have links, or so the FSB are trying to prove, with the Russian Mafia!”

  “He’s always one step ahead of them, Maurice,” Colonel Mann had already scanned through the file of one of Russia’s so called, finest entrepreneurs, “he deals on an advisory basis with many large, important foreign companies seeking business interests within the Russian Federation.”

  “I wonder if he gives advice on weapons manufacturing?” Jeanette Descard had a mischievous glint in her eye.

  “Apparently,” continued the Colonel, “he is a very professional and successful businessman, however, there is one interesting aspect about our Mister Menkov that greatly troubles me. I’m sure Sergeant Piper will share my view, once he has finished reading his copy of the dossier.”

  All eyes turned to Piper as he continued scanning the file in his hands. “I don’t believe it,” he said in a hushed tone.

  “Yes, interesting, hey Ash?”

  Commander Hertschell, Jeanette and Nick all knew what Colonel Mann meant and now Piper looked greatly concerned. “Vitali Menkov! Born 17 March 1962 in Volgograd. Moved to Rostov to work in engineering, aged twenty-one. Moved to St Petersburg in October 2001, where he founded ‘Menkov and Co, Business Investment Services’. Physical appearance, strong with an athletic build, height six foot three inches, dark hair, eye colours…right eye brown, left eye…” Piper gazed quickly at the Colonel, “…amber!”

  “So, Otto gave his blood willingly, freely, to this…Zeist woman?”

  “Helga Zeist, his personal secretary, yes, he saved her life in doing so.” The main course was as delicious as the appetizers, with Wilhelm Oratz savouring the delightful flavour of the Beef Fillet Stroganoff, his taste buds revelling in the delicious aroma of a true Russian speciality. Menkov too, with his extra large steak, swimming in its own blood, grilled for five seconds only…‘blue’…with no extras. They ate slowly, both giving thought to their in-depth conversation.

  “So what of Otto’s lover, this Doctor woman?”

  “Lana fucking Franke!” A piece of chewed mushroom fell from Oratz’s mouth as he spat out the name of Otto Von Kurst’s mistress.

  “Yes…Lana Franke. I get the distinct impression you do not like this woman Wilhelm,” Menkov laughed heartily, “then again, is there any woman you like, HA?”

  Oratz continued savouring his dinner. “Lana Franke has too much control over Otto, I would quite happily put a bullet through her fucking brain if I could, believe me!”

  Menkov looked shocked, “what do you mean, too much control over Otto?”

  “She plays games with him, sexual games. He is addicted to their sado masochistic relationship, although…I must admit…” just for a few seconds Oratz gazed vacantly at Menkov, as if he was looking straight through his friend, “…I think the situation between Otto and Lana is changing. Yes, I’m sure it is!”

  “So am I!”

  Menkov’s words brought Oratz out of his hateful state of mind. “Excuse me, Vitali,” he mumbled, “what did you say?”

  “So am I…the situation between Otto and these two women is changing, I can sense it. This Helga Zeist woman, she grows stronger by the day, the feeling of the hunt is beginning to course through her veins, she must be allowed to kill…and soon!”

  Oratz nodded and spoke again, “Otto already knows this, he is greatly concerned over Helga’s development. Her metabolic rate of change is far too rapid; her personality is shifting a great deal.”

  “I know, I have heard her in the white mist!”

  “White mist?”

  “Yes my friend, the Were’s dream state. I call it the white mist, all my kind’s contact through our dreamscape is shrouded in a white mist. She has called to me; she calls to all of us. She is becoming very, very…powerful!”

  “Otto has asked Falck and Kempler to accompany Helga on the hunt, to teach her the ways of the kill.”

  “Mmm,” Menkov chewed slowly on his steak, his eyes giving evidence to uneasy thoughts running through his mind, “something is happening Wilhelm, something is being planned, Falck and Kempler are moving towards Dusseldorf. They will kill again…very soon!”

  Oratz stopped eating. “How do you know this?” he whispered.

  “Otto has contacted them; I saw them in my dreams. This week will bring about the downfall of the lone wolf, you will be told soon enough, upon your return to Dusseldorf. Yes…Otto is planning something and I feel the Franke woman will play a major role in this. This will also help me a great deal.”

  “Oh?”

  Menkov sat back. “Yes,” he said, “the threat from the lone wolf not only affects you my friend, for he and his colleagues are a threat to me also!”

  The two hours of sleep had done CEATA Field Agent 038 the world of good. As the fresh aroma of strong English tea indulged Ash Piper’s senses he lightly pressed the keypad at the side of the main doorway to CEATA’s Communications Room. As usual, the heart of the Central European Anti Terrorism Agency was a hive of activity, with uniformed staff monitoring various screens relaying information regarding the whereabouts and activities of their field agents. “Any news?”

  “Hey…oh, hi Ash,” Nick Lucas didn’t look up; he was now fully accustomed to Piper suddenly appearing by the side of him, as if out of nowhere. “No, nothing, Oratz is still with Menkov at the Grand Hotel Europe, and believe me, it is…GRAND! Jean-Paul and I had a look at the hotel’s website; it’s very plush and expensive.”

  Piper nodded as he sipped from his large mug of tea. “Any updated reports from the FSB?”

  “No,” Jean-Paul replied, “Vitali Menkov checks out on all the reports we have analysed Sergeant. As you are aware from previous meetings, he is Wilhelm Oratz’s business companion throughout the whole of the time he is in St Petersburg.” Jean-Paul shrugged his shoulders, “at present, I would presume they are having a busin
ess dinner together, you know, just to reconfirm their busy itinerary, which also fully checks out!”

  “I wouldn’t count on their dinner meeting being anything so simple Jean-Paul, he’s up to something, I can sense it!” Piper drank again, emptying the mug.

  “Oratz is one hell of a busy guy Ash,” Nick began typing at his keyboard as he continued his update, “throughout tomorrow and Wednesday he has various meetings and a site visit, all with the world’s Press close at hand. VKE are certainly keen on maximising publicity for this event.”

  “That makes sense…I suppose,” Piper replied, sombrely.

  “Honestly Ash, everything regarding this business trip checks out, really!”

  Nick’s face openly showed a sense of unease thought Piper, “what about the warehouse, any sign of movement?”

  “No, nothing, 022 and 031 have the area well covered. We can hit it within minutes if we need too, the Colonel has seen to that!”

  “And the detonations, I take it there’s still no news of any further developments?” Both Nick and Jean-Paul shook their heads. Nothing he thought, still no damned news of the other four detonations, which he knew were imminent.

  “Just the forty six already recorded,” said Nick, “but the death toll and casualty figures are constantly increasing.”

  “What about the rioting?” Piper’s tone had become menacing. He wanted to hit back quickly, but knew he couldn’t.

  “You’d better take a look at this Sergeant.” Jean-Paul broke the tense atmosphere quickly enveloping Piper as he moved across to his colleague’s desk, the Frenchman pointing to a smaller screen to the side of him. “This is a strategic recon map of the hotspots around Europe. Notice the different coloured icons ringed around various cities and towns. These icons represent areas of activity regarding rioting and increased violence against Muslim and Immigrant communities.” Piper looked closely at the map and folded his arms; he frowned, his thoughts racing. “The large red circled areas represent areas of increased police and general law enforcement activity. These include specialist teams such as Rapid Response units, and in some cases even military involvement to help quell the rioting and fighting.”