Chapter 1 The Luncheon

March 1st 1946

Allied Occupied Zone West Berlin, East Germany

0800

It was eight o'clock in the morning, on the 1st of March, 1946. In Berlin, on a foggy yet rainy morning, US Army Lt Colonel Jack Houser had walked into a coffee shop accompanied by his subordinate 1st Lt Francis "Frank '' Genoa unto what they believed was going to be another dull and boring post war meeting with intelligence officers. Houser was a tall, slightly overweight, broad shouldered man, clean shaven with thinning blond hair. He had just had his 45th birthday party the night before. And he had admittedly gone a bit overboard for his liking. His head hurt. And he was craving for some black coffee and a simple glazed donut to ease his pain.

Genoa on the other hand was slightly shorter, paler and younger. He had been able to celebrate his 28th Birthday back home in the states during October. Even though he didn't live far away, he'd never been into the city for a new year's celebration. And yet, New York had done it like nowhere else he had seen in the world. It had made journeying back to Europe quite the dull affair for him, but over the past few months, Genoa found himself readjusted. Shaven the holiday beard he'd grown on leave, now he was clean cut with dark combed hair to match with his green eyes. He had been pulled from his normal duties earlier the day prior and had used the extra time to prepare for the meeting.

"Damned cold. Fuckin Rainbrough. No Idea why that pricks shoving his nose into our business. Couldn't even tell me anything more aside from "be at random kraut cafe X at 0745 sharp." Houser spat. He was in a foul mood and he couldn't stop thinking about 1) how much his head hurt and 2) how much money that prostitute took when she rifled his wallet after he had passed out. "I had to have at least 90 reichsmarks in there. Thieving bitch." He groaned.

"Ay sir, I mean it happens to the best of us, and she was a lady of the night? What did ya really expect? Thats just the way it is, woulda done the same thing back in the states. And as for this morning? Well, on the brightside, I'd rather be given an impromptu breakfast than be woken up by a german artillery raid in the middle of the night." Genoa said trying to be cheerful .

"You can take your brightside and stick it up your ass. I don't care, if I ever see that Harlot again on my base I'll have the MP's take her ! Houser howled. He moved away from this topic as it was about to put him in a worse mood than he already was. "Still, it's strange the Colonel demanded I take you with me too. You must have friends (or enemies) in high places. Houser groaned on.

Genoa went silent at Houser's response. He had some choice words for him, but he'd already pushed his luck a little. Besides, he mind began to wander about why they had been called to attend this meeting. Afterall, neither Lt. Col. Houser nor 1st Lt. Genoa had any idea what this meeting was to be about. Only that this meeting was ordered to take place by someone well above their pay grades. And that they were both wise enough not to ask many questions. Houser hadn't been told until nearly 10pm the prior night. And as a result, he had been hastily dressed and stuffed into a government car by several very incessant junior officers at around six thirty in the morning. If he could've seen straight, maybe Houser would've remembered their faces for a reprimand later. Fortunately for them, that was not possible in Housers current condition. And only was it now, standing in the rain silently for thirty five minutes, the fog in his mind had started to clear. This was also the first time Houser had met Lt Genoa . "An excellent first impression" Houser thought to himself. He had heard Genoa's name in passing before, seen it on paper for reward recommendations, (as well as for one or two reprimands) had never met the man.

Both men, standing there wet and a little cold, their green dress uniforms had been waiting for about thirty minutes before idle talk prevailed. "Fucking civilians, never on time. Amazing how I can get out of bed at 0500, take a shit, run 3 miles, eat breakfast and by 0800, they haven't even gotten out of bed yet" remarked Houser.

"Well sir, traffic has been bad. Especially with much of the repairs underway. The Russians sure showed little mercy in razing Berlin when they did, as in turn to what Germans did wherever they went". Genoa calmly replied sensing danger and a growing frustration from his superior.

Houser seemed to calm down before he relented and went on "Ha, didn't seem to slow us down. You give me a time and place and Damnit, I'll make sure myself and the sum of hundreds of men I command are with me. I accomplish more taking a fifteen minute shit than these bums do in one day"

"Which bums might that be sir?" pipped a lighthearted voice behind him. Houser turned around and his face turned red. Two men of an official looking capacity were standing behind him. "Aaaaah those bums back in the States. Department of motor vehicles. The mother fuckers, absolutely useless. Makes the post office look like a damn well oiled machine ! Am I to assume you are here to meet with us ?

"I see sir, and that must be quite the marvelous shit you must take, might I add. You are Lt Colonel Houser and Lt Genoa, am I correct?" Replied the man nonchalantly.

"Yes that's correct." Houser replied, still seething with embarrassment.

"My name is Christopher Tapper with MI5, the office of military intelligence service for his majesty. And this is Edward Goodman of MI6 of the office of the secret intelligence service."

Tapper stood in front of the two. Neatly dressed, smiling ear to ear with a thick moustache in a black pinstripe suit. Goodman on the other hand, was dressed in a plain grey suit, clean shaven with greying hair. He was carrying a brown umbrella and a black briefcase.

Tapper extended his hand, which both Genoa and Houser shook. Goodman however did not extend his hand. He stood behind Tapper, quietly and expressionlessly observing his American military counterparts. "Shall we be off then ?" Tapper offered motioning towards the door of the cafe. The men entered. The cafe was warm, and wholesome. There was a crowd in the front by the main barista station. Tables and chairs made of oak lined the walls. A fireplace simmered in the back giving the room a much more rustic feel. They seated themselves in the back by the fireplace, and away from the crowd.

Houser had assumed the Brits had information on a of the few straggling SS officers his unit had been looking for, either that or news of Russian troop movements to the east. Either way, he had been expecting valuable information and was willing to put aside his frustrations with the lateness. The four men ordered to their delight. In this particular coffee shop, it would have been hard to believe looking around that there had been a major global conflict and that the opposing allied forces had taken the city less than a year prior. Soon they had an array of coffee and fresh pastries across the table. It was certainly a treat for all parties. After all, years of war and long fought battles for Houser and Genoa had certainly not given them much luxury. And for Tapper and Goodman, certainly being shuffled to war-torn Berlin from the rebuilding London had robbed them of luxury as well.

"This has to be one of the last decent standing cafes in the whole city" remarked Tapper. "Ha, well it beats any of the field rations we have. Guess we might all be thankful the Russians must have missed this block" Genoa said. "Easy for them to do when half the time they were aiming their guns, their diets consisted primarily of fermented potato juice" laughed Tapper. Genoa also laughed, but Houser didn't seem to understand the joke. He looked perplexed and beginning to realise that perhaps he had missed something he smiled and said "Ah yes, haha potatoes. Reminds me of Idaho. I think maybe I'd get along with some of those commie bastards. Now, onto business if you don't mind? We have other meetings today and this meeting was bumped to the top of our priority list. Albeit last minute."

Finally, Goodman who had been very quiet and observant this entire time smiled and said "Yes. While a spring luncheon is well and all. Let us get to the matters at hand." He pulled open a black briefcase and removed a brown dossier stamped "TOP SECRET COMPARTMENTALISED" in red ink across the front. "My agency, in coalition with Mr. Tappers, have received several reports you may find concerning, and worth investigating."

He slid the dossier across to Houser, who in turn passed it over to Genoa.

"And what do these reports concern… Mr. Goodman, I believe it was ?" Houser said with a strained tone of curiosity in his voice.

"Well, several matters really. The first of which is a possible bunker located in Bavaria where we believe several former German SS officers may in fact be in hiding. We believe that Vernon Von Wafflesturgen may be amongst them" stated Tapper but he paused there for a moment. "Wafflesturgen eh? They've been looking for him. Not an easy man to find. I'll pass it along to the Battalion we have stationed in the region. And ? Go on." Houser said. "Well for the next section of the report, I'm afraid that is more of Mr. Goodman's department. If even, it's something really neither one of our agencies usually has a hand in. It seems to be unusual in fact. But it's something we stand better off to deal with at this point, rather than not." Houser rubbed his jawline for a moment. "So am I to understand you are trying to pawn off your dirty work to the United States?"

"Oh by no means sir, this would be a cooperative endeavor ! We already have resources set aside should you agree-" Tapper started but Goodman cut him off. "Let us not put the cart before the horse sir. Firstly, I would like to apologize for our lateness earlier. I am a former military man myself. So I can understand if that may have seemed insulting to you sir. Secondly, these reports have been through both of ours and your superiors. And they have been agreed to have been passed onto us, as well as to have been disseminated to you. This is all on a need to know basis. Best kept quietly, so that you may assist us in any joint, albeit very covert, military action to follow."

Houser blinked. This was the first time the man had truly spoken to him in the near two hours they had known each other. Houser steadied himself. "Very well. That we can do, Lt. Genoa's unit is particularly skilled in that area. And what are the natures of these reports?"

Tapper sighed and continued "Well, there are quite a plethora of them." Tapper began again. "We have received numerous reports of deaths in the Alsace region, both military and civilian. Of a suspicious nature."

Houser didn't seem phased. He was familiar with a great many suspicious things through his time in the war. "Suspicious how?" He asked. "Well sir, although there may have been more. We have at least twenty seven reports, from French Resistance, British forces and several unofficial American sources stating that several of the casualties had been found torn, limb from limb. And blood drained from their bodies." Tapper paused to give Houser a chance to interject, as their previous report on the man before the meeting had stated he was prone to do.

"Sounds like Wolves to me. You want for me to volunteer a valuable military asset to go on a hunting expedition?" Retorted Houser. He had begun to get the impression that he had the intel he needed on the SS officers and anything more from this meeting would be a waste of time.

" If you would kindly open the second part of the dossier and observe the photographs." Tapper said after a short pause.

Houser opened the dossier. And his face contorted. The men and women in the photographs had been violently mutilated. More so across all of the photos, looks of absolute terror and visible veins stretched across their faces giving the impression of both a very painful death and rapid aging. Furthermore, although no particular degree of mutilation escaped these people. Houser noticed that in particular there has been much more attention given to the torso and lower extremities.

Houser paused as he collected himself. At this point, his curiosity was piqued.

"What kind of animal could do this?" Houser thought to himself. It seemed unlikely based on the dates of the reports and how far and long they had gone on that one single predator would go unhunted for so long. The little voice in the back of his head was whispering to him "There is more to this' ' a voice which had helped him through countless lies, ambushes and attacks from friend and foe alike.

Genoa on the other hand began to turn green. He had seen horrors on the frontlines, even mutilations. He had rescued tortured and mistreated men. He had personally inflicted death and injury upon enemy combatants. Yet something he thought was different here. "They all have this look of sheer horror on their face. I've seen that look before. But this appears to be consistent across all of the photos. Well the ones in which these people still got faces anyway. Is this all we have to go off of? What if there's still another SS unit operating over there we haven't dispatched yet?"

Goodman spoke "Indeed there are operations going on. But as to whom, what, why or how we do not know. We only know the where and the when. We do not believe it to be the work of the Nazi SS however. While horrible bastards in their own right, this is a bit savage. Even for their own modus operandi."

"In my experience Mr. Goodman, there is very little these monsters among men aren't capable of." Genoa said, albeit his words were muffled by a fresh blueberry scone he had just stuffed in his mouth.

Tapper had decided to invoke his right to speak again. "Quite right my good Lieutenant ! But, although nothing concrete, we do have other leads in regards to this manner. We have at least a dozen eye witness reports, describing a large black figure at night, moving in between trees, almost shapeless and very fast. It's been said to have been masquerading around the countryside. Leaving a trail of blood behind it from the approximate location of the victims. We have recovered many bones at the end of such spots. Occasionally, we find foot prints. Some of those may belong to several men, some of those may belong to more … non manlike creatures."

Houser and Genoa both looked perplexed. Both of them were thinking the same thing. But, neither wanted to say it. Finally Houser took charge "So in sum, we have several casualties and deaths, all confirmed to be from allied forces and civilians. All dating back to appears to be at the earliest, November of 1944. And the nature of what caused these deaths, although very graphic in nature, has not been identified let alone confirmed ?"

Tapper responded. "That's correct sir, although it is worth mentioning we have no idea whether or not there were any reports of a similar nature from the german side."

Houser sighed, lit a cigarette and sipped his coffee. "Very well, seeing as now we have the time, and the resources. I will pass the dossier off to Lt. Genoa, and he personally, along with his unit, shall investigate these … reports" Houser concluded. "Anything else you have for me ?"

"Well." Tapper began, "if it's of any consequence, if you enjoyed this coffee shop, might I suggest another delightful bistro not too far from here for our next meeting? They do have an amazing bratwurst, and it's also mostly still intact."

Houser puffed a large cloud of smoke from his cigarette and exhaled. "Next meeting? There will be more of these ?!" Houser cringed.

"Indeed." Goodman said. "Since this is a collaborative effort, we will be wanting an after action report of any and all discoveries. Furthermore there may be additional dossiers to come. Apologies ahead of time. And finally sir, if you require any additional resources. Please reach out to our counterpart, Michael McMann I believe? Of the OSS, or is it SSU now ? On your side of things.

Houser was not amused. This meant that this may turn into an ongoing endeavour. He had sincerely wished he had not gotten shit faced off and emptied a bottle of Gin last night, although the bottle he did not regret. Merely the timing. It would have been much better reserved after this. "Fine. I will reach out to my counterpart if we have any further needs from you. As for the, what did you say, a bratt bort bistro place? Sure, why not. If that is all, we're going to take leave now, and figure this shit out on our end." Hauser got up, he and Genoa shook Tappers hand. Goodman merely nodded his head slightly. And they were off.

Out of the cafe, a black Ford headed back to the hotel they had taken refuge in. "Why wasn't this investigated earlier ?" Genoa mused. "Thats a dumb fucking question kid. How the hell do you think anyone would have taken this seriously during the war? Now, we're bored. Looking for shit to do. And shootin some wolves for a local french village in the middle of bumblefuck will be nice story, a good deed for the day. Sorry to dump this on you, but the Colonel wants people on this, good people at that. I tried to convince him to take Captain Holding, fuckin dirt bag like him would it of been a great chance to send him off. But he wasn't interested. He requested both of us. By name apparently."

"That is a bit unusual, to be brought up by name." Genoa said, ignoring Housers personal thoughts on Holding. Houser lit a cigarette. Its light wispy smoke and familiar smell flowed throughout the car. "Kid, ya may be dumb fucker sometimes, but you know how to lead. Ya did good shit in the Ardennes. Kept a lot of men from dying, that certainly should have. It's a small army. Word gets around. And so will you, when we get back. And like that man Goodman said, keep it all quiet. It's around noon now, so polish those boots, tell your men to be ready by 0500 tomorrow."

"Plenty of time (you asshole)" Genoa did not speak that last part. Merely thought it. "Ah yes, the big green weenie of the army strikes again." He thought as the ford pulled up to the hotel gates.