Licence To Howl by Helen Harper
Chapter Twenty-Five
Berlin felt colder than Rome.In fact it had an entirely different atmosphere to the Italian capital, although it was no less striking. If Rome was an educated statesman in a sharp suit and with impeccable manners, Berlin was a brash, kooky teenager with edge and undeniable levels of cool. On any other occasion, he would have relished wandering around the city but Devereau wasn’t interested in seeing the sights this time around. The situation had escalated dramatically in the last twelve hours and, when he stared out of the window of the taxi at what Berlin had to offer, it was with unseeing eyes. He was in yet another unfamiliar city tracking down an unfamiliar man. And time was against them.
‘You are English?’ the taxi driver asked, in a bid to make small talk and pass the journey time quicker.
It was Scarlett who answered. ‘Yes.’
‘Vampire, yes?’
‘Yes.’
His eyes slid to Devereau who wasn’t in the mood for any chat. ‘You are here for business or pleasure? Because today is not a good day to be a tourist in Berlin.’
Now, Devereau was interested. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The government they close all the tourist buildings. All the public places.’ He gestured towards the radio. ‘It was on news. Charlottenburg Palace closed. Berlin Cathedral closed. Holocaust Memorial. Closed. Even Brandenburg Gate. You cannot get close to it today. It all closed.’ He took a hand off the steering wheel and waved it around to indicate his bafflement. ‘I do not understand why. They say maybe because of what happened in Rome last night. That maybe next attack will be here.’ He shook his head in dismay, causing his shaggy silver hair to bounce. ‘I am sorry you come here today. My friend told me police and army are everywhere. They are checking IDs and passports and bags. They close Christmas markets.’ He sucked air in through the gap in his teeth. ‘These terrorists. They ruin everything.’
‘You got that right,’ Scarlett murmured. She glanced at Devereau. ‘So all potential targets are closed. And being searched. It will be very difficult for anyone to plant a bomb somewhere. If not impossible. At least we know that MI5 are taking the information we found seriously and they’re working with other authorities instead of sneaking around on their own.’
Devereau scratched his chin. ‘On the surface, that would be a good thing. But now it’s obvious to anyone with half a brain that Berlin has been identified as the next target. Avanopoulos or Alina Bonnet or whoever else is now running Solentino’s show must know that we’re onto RBPL. That could be disastrous. If they alter their plans to avoid detection, we won’t know about it until it’s too late.’
‘Unless your theory about Bonnet leaving Vissier alive so he could point the finger at Avanopoulos is correct,’ Scarlett said. ‘Because if that’s the case, then she would already know he would also confirm what RBPL meant. Maybe it’s not a coincidence that we found that scrap of paper at Solentino’s place. Maybe we’re supposed to know where they’re targeting. Terrorists spread terror by definition and there’s nothing more terrifying than waiting for an inevitable attack to happen and knowing where it’s going to happen but still being unable to stop it. Advance knowledge also gives governments enough time to get the money together that they need to meet the demands and prevent the attacks from happening.’
Hmm. ‘Advertising the targets in advance would be an incredibly risky move on her part,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘but the entire operation is risky beyond belief. Either Alina Bonnet is incredibly smart and has planned for every eventuality or we’re barking up the wrong tree completely and she’s already dead in a ditch somewhere.’
The taxi driver gave them a nervous look in the mirror. Devereau and Scarlett exchanged glances then, by silent mutual agreement, stayed quiet until he dropped them off near the train station at Potsdamer Platz.
He had certainly been right about the increased security. Everywhere Devereau looked, he could see armed police and soldiers. Their presence didn’t reassure him; if anything they only increased his sense of dread.
‘Fraulein Cook? Herr Webb?’
They both turned. Standing a few metres away was quite the welcome party. Three vampires, three werewolves, a pixie and a gremlin. And a human woman. Devereau stared hard at the woman. She smiled faintly back. Then one of the vampires stepped forward.
‘Meister Meyer,’ Scarlett said, with considerable respect in her voice. ‘Thank you for coming to meet us.’
‘I have told you before to call me Jurgen,’ the German replied. He glanced at Devereau. He didn’t smile but his expression wasn’t unfriendly. ‘I have heard a great deal about you, Herr Webb. It is good to finally make your acquaintance.’
Devereau nodded soberly back and then addressed the werewolves specifically. ‘I understand,’ he said, ‘that there will be considerable protocol that should be addressed concerning my presence here in Berlin. I hope that under the circumstances, we can set aside such traditions for now.’ The last thing he needed right now was a similar situation to the one he’d ended up in at the Colosseum.
All three werewolves stared at him. Then they burst out laughing. ‘You’ve just come from Rome,’ the tall female wolf said. ‘Don’t worry. We’re more relaxed here about such things. We don’t tend to adhere to the old ways like Nicolo Moretti does. Outsiders always think that us Germans are sticklers for the rules when the truth could not be more different.’ She shrugged ambivalently. ‘I am Mila, alpha of the Konig clan. This is Franz, the Fuchs alpha,’ she said, ‘and Tomas, the alpha of the Jager clan.’
No prizes for guessing which German clan was the strongest. Devereau greeted them all, making sure to be particularly deferential towards Mila Konig, before the pixie introduced himself as Rosafarben. The gremlin merely grunted and the remaining two vampires only bowed their heads in greeting.
‘Hello Mr Webb,’ Sarah Greensmith said, with far too much uncharacteristic cheer. She stuck her hand out towards Scarlett. ‘Miss Cook. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sarah.’
Scarlett threw Devereau an alarmed look before shaking Greensmith’s hand. ‘Hi.’
The MI5 agent was unable to stop herself from smirking. ‘You both look surprised to see me. You didn’t really think that we wouldn’t know you’d left Rome and were heading here? That because you managed to run away from one minor embassy staff member, we wouldn’t be able to find you?’
Jurgen Meyer looked vaguely apologetic. ‘She insisted she came along here and did not give us much choice in the matter.’
‘Choice?’ Greensmith scoffed. ‘We’re all in this together.’ Her amusement was replaced by a steely edge. ‘We are all under threat.’
Konig muttered something in German under her breath. ‘Some of us,’ she said in English, ‘have to deal with more of an immediate threat than others.’
Sarah Greensmith waved an airy hand. ‘And that’s why it’s good that we’re all working together even if I remain disappointed that my German counterpart is not also here.’
‘The humans are somewhat preoccupied right now,’ Konig returned icily. ‘And our government trusts its supes more than yours does.’
Greensmith didn’t so much as blink. ‘I doubt that very much.’ She sniffed with the sort of imperious air only an English woman could manage before turning her attention to Devereau and Scarlett. ‘Don’t get your hackles up, Mr Webb. I’m only here to deliver a message. This would be easier if your phone wasn’t turned off or if you actually checked the damned emails.’
‘I’ve been somewhat busy,’ he said shortly, wariness bristling through him along with a healthy dose of guilt, ‘and my phone is broken. So tell me now. What’s the message?’
Greensmith sighed with vague exasperation. ‘As you seem so determined to go it alone, we have decided to play along. For now anyway. It took some persuading to get my own superiors to see the light but it helps that you have had some modicum of success with your mission, despite what happened to the Pantheon.’ She gestured towards the German supes. ‘And you have connections and access to abilities that we are unable to match. You can continue down your current path to locate the terrorists behind all this. The rest of MI5 is working with Interpol and other European security services to do the same. Locate these bastards, stop the attacks, and we will treat you both like heroes. You will have carte blanche going forward.’ She paused. ‘We’ll probably find them before you do but,’ she shrugged, ‘have at it. What’s the worst that could happen?’
The worst? That would be hundreds of dead European citizens and the destruction of several historical monuments. They were all aware of that.
‘And if none of us find them? If none of us can stop them?’ Scarlett asked.
Greensmith gave her a steady look. ‘I’m glad you asked that question,’ she said softly. ‘In these sorts of circumstances, we usually require a scapegoat. Someone has to take the fall for our mistakes. Unfortunately, on this occasion, we will blame you for the failure.’
Great. Although if they failed and more people died, Devereau would have no problem with blaming himself. He raised his eyes heavenward while every single German supe looked on stony-faced. ‘I thought you said we were all in this together?’
‘You’re the one who decided to ignore your orders and piss off around Europe,’ she said with a shrug. Her eyes shifted away from him and Devereau had the sudden sense that she felt far more discomfort than she was letting on. ‘That is on you. Don’t take it personally though, Mr Webb. After all, I’m not taking your decision to abscond personally, either.’ She gave him a mock curtsey. ‘Miss Cook, as you are not officially part of MI5, if you choose to come back to London now, we will forget you were ever involved. We will not make this offer again, however. It’s a one time deal. Stay with Mr Webb and his successes become your successes. Unfortunately, the same will go for his failures.’ She raised her eyebrows at Devereau. ‘This wouldn’t have happened if you’d only done what you were told. And don’t think of it as a punishment. It’s only politics.’
Yeah, yeah. Devereau didn’t know why he would have ever expected anything less.
Scarlett moved closer to him and put an arm around his waist. Startled, he glanced at her, the warmth of her touch already lifting his spirits. ‘I’m no Bond girl,’ she sneered, matching Greensmith’s attitude with her own. ‘But I’m with him.’
From deep underneath his skin, Devereau’s wolf yipped in delight.
Greensmith didn’t look surprised. ‘Very well.’ She reached into her pocket and everyone stiffened. It was only a business card that she pulled out, however. ‘I gather you still possess a phone?’ she said to Scarlett, who nodded. ‘Take my personal phone number then. You might need it in an emergency. You will also need to keep me updated with any new information you uncover.’ For the briefest moment, her face softened and Devereau had the sudden thought that she was on his side and wishing him the best, regardless of what machinations might be going on behind the scenes in London. ‘Good luck to you both.’ She hesitated. ‘Good luck to us all.’ She turned on her heel and clicked away.
They all watched her go. Scarlett frowned. ‘I feel like I should despise her for that little chat. But instead I think I admire her honesty. At least we don’t have to run away any more from any British embassy idiots.’
‘Thank heavens for small mercies,’ Devereau muttered.
‘Sometimes,’ Jurgen Meyer said, ‘you English can be very strange.’
The other supes, including Mila Konig, bobbed their heads in agreement. ‘Shall we get started?’ she inquired. ‘These fuckers could be anywhere in Berlin. We’ve had supes searching everywhere for this Avanopoulos and the Bonnet woman.’ She gestured towards Rosafarben. ‘You had a lead, didn’t you?’
The pixie raised his chin. ‘Yes. I have passed the information onto the German police. Regardless of that horrible English woman just now, we are all trying to achieve the same thing. The only competition should be between us and the terrorists.’
Devereau wasn’t going to argue with that. Not at all. ‘What is it? What have you discovered?’
Rosenfarben cleared his throat. ‘A group of young pixies are certain that very early this morning they saw a man matching the description of Stefan Avanopoulos at Venusbassin in Tiergarten. He approached them and asked for the time. They remember him because he was quite obviously wearing a watch.’
Devereau frowned. That seemed odd - unless Avanopoulos had wanted his presence to be noted. Devereau had the uneasy feeling that they were being played. But right now there was nowhere else to go.
‘The Tiergarten is within walking distance,’ Mila Konig said. ‘It’s the public park we use during the full moon. The police haven’t closed it off. It’s a big green space. There’s a zoo but I doubt it would be the terrorists’ target. There’s very little there to blow up’
Devereau straightened his shoulders. It was hard not to notice that Scarlett’s arm was still round his waist. He flicked a look at her and she jerked in sudden self-awareness. She stepped away and he felt a moment of loss. ‘The park might not be the actual target but it’s the only intelligence we’ve got right now.’ He gestured to the small group of supes. ‘Lead the way.’
* * *
It wasan icy wind that rustled through the Tiergarten and Devereau was forced to put up his collar as a guard against the wind. He didn’t like the idea of having to transform to a wolf in a hurry – and then shift into his vulnerable human state without any clothes to protect him from the effects of winter. It had been bad enough doing that in Rome.
‘How do you manage transformations at this time of year?’ he asked Konig, as they walked briskly towards the area where Avanopoulos had been spotted. ‘When you have to change in a hurry but your clothes have been ripped to shreds by your initial shift, what do you do?’
Konig seemed amused. ‘It is rare that we do not plan in advance for such things. On the odd occasion when we are caught unprepared and are forced to transform in a hurry, we have caches of unisex clothes ready at various spots around the city. There is actually one up at the Venusbassin. Supes congregate here frequently and sometimes … accidents, shall we say … happen. The pixies who saw Avanopoulos are here most days. They peddle supe moonshine to passersby. It’s little more than vodka with a few herbs thrown in but humans lap that sort of ridiculous stuff up. The younger pixies weave tall tales of magic antidotes for all manner of ailments. We used to try and stop them from such scams but they’re incorrigible at that sort of age.’ She glanced at Rosenfarben, who was skipping along next to Scarlett at the front of their small group, and lowered her voice. ‘Truthfully, pixies are incorrigible at any age.’
Devereau suppressed a smile. ‘The human woman who was here before,’ he said. ‘I got mixed up with her in the first place because of my pixie neighbour. Sort of.’
Konig clicked her tongue. ‘I am not surprised. Pixies get away with a great deal because they are small and possess limited powers. But they meddle a great deal in all sorts of affairs. We have a saying here. It doesn’t translate directly but it’s along the lines of the pixie goes crazy in the pan. Or rather that they’re unbelievable and not to be trusted.’ She raised her shoulders in a shrug. ‘It’s a stereotype but it often fits. They have their own less than complimentary sayings about us.’
Devereau could well imagine.
Rosenfarben cleared his throat. ‘I can hear what you’re telling that poor wolf, you know. Don’t put ideas into his head, Alpha Konig.’
Konig’s answering grin looked genuine. There was far more warmth and camaraderie amongst all the supes here, despite the teasing. Devereau’s gaze drifted momentarily towards Scarlett and wondered if things would be easier between them if London supes were more like this. Probably not. She was her own person regardless of what other people did or said. He sighed to himself and pulled his coat tighter around him.
‘It’s there,’ Rosenfarben announced. ‘See?’
Devereau squinted, spotting the serene rectangular pool with a small monument at the far end. It was pretty, and there were still plenty of people wandering around it despite the threats to Berlin’s security. There was, however, no sign of anyone who might fit Stefan Avanopoulos’s description. That was hardly surprising, of course. It had been hours since he was seen here and the German police had no doubt conducted their own thorough sweeps. In any event, it still seemed an odd place for the Greek to come. And why would he have approached a group of pixies and asked for the time? Surely, he would have wanted to keep a low profile. There was more to this than met the eye. Devereau was sure of it.
Konig’s phone began to ring. A half second later so did Jurgen Meyer’s. It was swiftly followed by beeping alerts from the phones of every single German supe. Devereau and Scarlett exchanged dark, alarmed glances.
‘What?’ she asked. ‘What is it?’
‘The police have found an explosive device outside the Reichstag,’ Konig said, her voice vibrating with urgency. ‘The fucking German Parliament. That’s virtually around the corner from here.’