Page 67 of Licence To Howl
‘The terrorists will know that Vissier was picked up. They must know their original shortlist will have been revealed and have surely adapted their plans accordingly. They’re ten steps ahead of us.’ Devereau spoke urgently. ‘What landmarks might be targeted that aren’t on that shortlist but are more than an hour away?’
Meyer threw his hands up. ‘There are lots of places! The fucking bombs could be anywhere!’
‘Think,’ Devereau hissed. ‘Museums. Churches. What could be destroyed that would hurt Berliners the most?’
‘I don’t know!’
Konig lifted up her chin. ‘How about the Oberbaum Bridge?’
Meyer stiffened. ‘It’s not a building.’
‘No,’ Konig agreed. ‘But it has symbolic and economic importance. It formed part of the border between East and West Berlin. It’s now seen as a symbol of unity for the entire city. Besides, why are we looking for a museum or a church? They’re all closed now because of what happened at the Pantheon. Oberbaumbrucke makes more sense.’
‘Except at most,’ Meyer said, ‘it’s only twenty minutes from here.’
Scarlett looked at them both. ‘Do you have any other ideas? Anywhere else that might be a target?’
‘It’s a needle in a haystack.’ Meyer’s shoulders slumped. ‘One of the targets could be the Oberbaum. Who’s to say? If we make a mistake, if we go to the wrong place …’
The gremlin, whose name Devereau still didn’t know and who up until now, hadn’t uttered a single word, interrupted. ‘Look at the message,’ he said. ‘Read it again.’
It was Rosenfarben who spotted it first. ‘Scheisse,’ he spat. ‘One of the targets is definitely Oberbaumbrucke,’ he said. ‘It has to be.’
‘I don’t …’ Meyer paled. ‘Schnick schnack schnuck.’
Devereau blinked. ‘Huh?’
‘Instead of eeny meeny miny mo, the German demand is written asschnick schnack schnuck.’
‘It’s not a taunt,’ Konig breathed. ‘It’s a clue. Theywantus to find one of the bombs. They want us to confirm they are not lying.’
Of course. He raised his eyes heavenward as he realised Konig had to be right. It was the only way they’d get their damned money. ‘What’s the clue?’ Devereau demanded. ‘What does it mean?’
‘When we play rock paper scissors, sometimes in German we say schnick schnack schnuck.’
‘So?’ Scarlett asked.
‘There’s an art installation on Oberbaum bridge. A neon sign displaying –’
‘Let me guess,’ Devereau said, ‘rock, paper, scissors.’ His body tensed. ‘Let’s go. Now.’
* * *
The Oberbaum Bridgewas only one location and the demands had stated there were three. In the absence of any other solid leads, however, there was no choice. Meyer, Scarlett and the other German vampires headed for the cars although, alas, they were not parked nearby. Rosenfarben and the taciturn gremlin spun towards the police who were coordinating the scene to demand their attention and tell them what they’d worked out. Konig, Devereau and the other two Berlin alphas didn’t need to say a word to each other. They all knew what they had to do. In less than ten seconds, where once there had been five human shaped bodies, there were five werewolves. Some of the nearby humans let out cries of alarm; none of them paid them any attention, however. Let the humans wring their hands and panic. The werewolves were going to take control.
Mila Konig led the way. Devereau was almost twice her size and could have overtaken her with ease but this was her city - and besides, he didn’t know the way. The only good thing was that once the Reichstag was behind them, the streets were clear of both people and traffic. The German police had already evacuated the nearby area and any and all traffic had been directed elsewhere. The small troupe of werewolves thundered down the Berlin roads, claws skittering on the cold ground. They ran like hell itself was after them and with such speed and urgency that it wasn’t until the bridge itself came into sight that Devereau heard the squeal of sirens as the Berlin emergency services also hurled themselves towards the same spot.
It wasn’t quite what Devereau had been expecting. For one thing, the bridge was built as some kind of double decker structure, with trains travelling across the top level and cars and pedestrians beneath. It was made out of some kind of striking red stone, which contrasted sharply with the nearby buildings and added to the dramatic effect. Not only that but the top half of the bridge looked more like a castle than a functional way of crossing the river which split Berlin in two. There were four small turrets stretching up from the centre. It was almost as if he’d suddenly found himself inside a fairy tale. At this point, however, a happy ending was looking increasingly unlikely.
While the other werewolves darted for the lower level, examining the arches and sniffing for bombs, Devereau scrabbled up to the railway line over their heads. A bomb up there would collapse the upper level of the bridge onto the road and pedestrians below and would be far more devastating. A ridge of fur bristled all the way down his spine, from the nape of his neck to his tail, and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Coming here to the bridge was a massive gamble regardless of what happened next.
There were shouts from below as police car after fire engine after ambulance appeared, their flashing lights creating an eerie strobe light effect. Satisfied that they would clear the bridge and keep the public away, Devereau focused on the job in hand. Keeping his paws well away from the electrified train tracks, he ran lightly down the length of the bridge, his eyes and nose focused on finding any indication of any sort of bomb. There was old graffiti, smears of oil and an abandoned wasp’s nest. But no matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t see anything that looked likely to explode. By the time he reached the other end of the bridge, others had joined him. The scene was swarming with werewolves, called no doubt by their three alphas, vampires and humans. He spotted several more pixies, scaling up the side of the bridge to examine every nook and cranny. He heaved in a breath. There was nothing here. There was no bomb. Angling his head downwards, he caught a glimpse of Scarlett’s head. She felt his eyes on her and turned, looking upwards with a question in her eyes. He shook his head and she grimaced.
‘There’s nothing down here either,’ she called, raising her voice to make it heard about the clamour. ‘Maybe this bridge isn’t one of the targets after all.’
Maybe it wasn’t. Or maybe the bastard terrorists had simply placed the bomb somewhere completely out of sight. Devereau leaned out further and gazed down at the river beneath. Slabs of ice were floating down it, passing from one side of the bridge to the other. The water looked treacherous – and bloody freezing. Devereau hissed under his breath. He was an idiot for thinking it. And he would definitely be an idiot for doing it. He glanced at Scarlett again. Her eyes widened as she realised what he was planning to do. She opened her mouth to shout something, but it was too late. Whatever she yelled was swallowed up in the wind and sirens and melee of other voices as Devereau soared out from over her head and plunged straight down into the icy water below.
The temperature was more of a shock than he’d anticipated, and the current was far stronger. He gasped as his head broke above the surface. Fuck, that was cold. And, yes, he was definitely an idiot. The only good thing was that apparently wolves were more than capable of swimming. He allowed the current to carry him under the bridge itself and then used the strength of his own body and limbs to remain there while he searched the arched underside. Someone with a small boat could have sailed under here and surreptitiously planted a bomb without anyone noticing. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility.
