Chapter 14

January, 2004

St. Petersburg

“Well, Mikhail Petrovich, what do you think?” Oblomov asked the man standing in front of him.

“He's not getting better. In fact, he's worse than before. He does his best to hide it in front of the children and Repin, but it's a time bomb. He's permanently terrified. Boss should let him go. Not even two months ago he tried to take his life. He does not speak at all, barely eats. The only time when he acts normal is when he's with the children.

The smallest one, Vania, loves him very much. The girl, Sofia Constatinovna is learning to paint with him. When the boss is at home, he's nice to him, never shouts or is nasty, but he's very sad. He wants to go back to Argentina and leave everything behind.”

“Repin will never allow it. He cares for the boy. I think he's secretly happy that he's so sick so he can control him much better,” Oblomov considered as he made a gesture to Massaiev to sit in front of him.

“Mr. Repin should understand that this is a broken toy. The boy I brought from Argentina is dead. He will never jump to his neck again. The doctors say that he can do nothing in bed. I have troubles to save all his drawings from destruction. That oil portrait of the children? I had to keep it in my room every night so he wouldn't destroy it. I count his material every morning so he can tear nothing apart. This man, the one in London, Robertson sold several of his latest drawings and paints and sent him a check for £ 11,600. I had to force him to write the letter to that priest he sends the money to. It's almost impossible to take him anywhere outside the house. More than five people in the room and he has a nervous breakdown.”

“And the boss?”

“He takes great care of him. He's with him every time he can, praises his paints. He was very happy when he got the portrait with the children as a Christmas present. On the other hand, he does not let him speak about leaving him. After Guntram cut his wrists open, he threatened with taking revenge on those poor people he likes in Argentina. The boy is very frightened about it, thinking that the boss will waste his time with a priest and some lousy devils.”

“This can't continue any longer. It's not good for either of them. Constantin is very nervous and we need him with a cool head if we want to survive this internal war.”

“Ivan Ivanovich, even if this would be an act of mercy, I can't do it.”

“NO! We have to find the way to send the boy away, somewhere Constantin can't touch him.”

“He's too sick to travel or fend for himself. He can't work and needs constant medical care.”

“Perhaps we should return him to his own people,” Oblomov pondered.

“Argentina? He would be dead in less than two months.”

“No, his real people, you understand me.”

“I see your point, but how?”

“I don't know. I have to find a way to convince Lintorff that this is the best deal of the year, like I did with Aliosha Antonov.”

“He's not Lintorff's type, Mr. Oblomov.”

“Quite the contrary. I'm convinced that Guntram is exactly what he wants,” Ivan said with deep satisfaction. 'Lintorff would do anything to piss off Constantin and who knows? The boy is good looking and he kind of grows on you. Even Massaiev can't lay a hand on him. If he took Aliosha, he can take Guntram too. The irony of life. Lintorff starting a NGO for Constantin's former lovers!'

“Well done Massaiev. Leave it into my hands.” Oblomov dismissed the man. When he was alone in his office, Oblomov let a long sigh escape through his lips. He was sick of this mess and felt responsible for Guntram's

“accident”. He had warned Constantin several times, but the idiot had disregarded each one of his words. He only cared about having Guntram for himself no matter the consequences; and here they were smacking his face. A boy, a little older than his own son, good tempered and docile had been crushed like a cockroach because of an intrigue made by a stupid woman and a greedy man. 'I would have killed Morozov with my own hands!'

'The boy will be a hundred times better in the Order's territory than here. Constantin is one step from exploding if he doesn't improve. Those are brutal and crazy Germans, but they stick to their codes and Guntram is one of them. Lefèbre told us that his own father offered the boy to Lintorff in exchange for his life and he accepted the offer. He thinks that they were looking for the child for two or three years, but finally they thought that he was dead too. Exactly like in the Middle Ages; one hostage to prove your loyalty and good will. Those Germans are truly crazy!'

'A lunatic with codes is a hundred times better than a sane man without codes.'

'I wonder how Lefèbre could know so much about the Order if he was never a member. That Frenchman knows much more than he tells us. He must have inside contacts at top level, much better than Malchenko's. He understands and predicts their moves much better than anyone we know.'

Ferdinand von Kleist's Diary

February 17th, 2004

Once again my idiotic friend has done it. I can't believe it. He only needed to see the boy for two minutes and boom! He falls in love like a horny teenager. No matter what he tells me, I know he's in love, infatuated, obsessed or whatever you want to call it. I should have hit him with a champagne bottle or something like that to make him come to his senses!

I'm an idiot too!

It all happened in St. Petersburg. Repin had a party at one of his houses there. Nice place, elegant and with good looking girls and boys too. I can't deny that he makes fantastic castings for his places. It's an old residence on the outskirts of the city and we all were invited, Konrad, Goran, Adolf zu Löwenstein, Georg, Cohen and me. The idea was to take a look around, have a drink or two and go home as no chance in hell any of us would make a free video for Repin. Perhaps one of the bodyguards, but I'm not sure if they want to.

It was crowded with people from the government and industry. More than a whorehouse the place looked like the Parliament. Some people would tell me that the Parliament is a whorehouse, but I have some respect for its workers and I think they should not be insulted with this kind of comparisons. After all, it's a good service what they provide. Konrad and I were thinking to leave the party and we went up the stairs to tell good-bye to Oblomov, busy with two girls and several Russians. We spoke briefly with him when it happened. While Oblomov was elaborating on the situation in Romania, Konrad looked transfixed toward the entrance, from our position we could dominate the whole foyer. Oblomov knows how to pick his grounds, when Repin entered the room, steering a young boy, no more than twenty and looking very out of his normal environment. Hell, he looked like just out of school and was dressed in a conservative, sober way, nothing like you could see there.

His face was what nearly made my heart stop. He looked very similar to Roger de Lisle, Konrad's former lover and the biggest snake I've ever met. Perhaps I'm being unfair to the boy. He looked similar true, but he was much younger than Roger, his face was perfectly symmetrical and his features more delicate, not so well defined as Roger's, the hair a very light brown almost blond and looking at everything in a mix of awe, embarrassment and barely concealed horror. I noticed that Repin put an arm around his waist and protectively pulled him against him and whispered something in his ear, making him smile like a child. Obviously, this one was a lover, not a professional.

Perhaps one of the artists he likes so much to adopt.

However, Konrad was looking at the boy as he would have seen a ghost -nothing would have pleased me more than that, alas the bastard is still alive-and Oblomov noticed it.

“Incredible, isn't it? Boss is with that one for almost two years and totally in love with him,” he said.

“Who is he?” Konrad asked.

“Not for sale, Duke. Belongs only to Repin and I don't know what he's doing here. He was never in a place like this. In fact, he almost never leaves the house. He's sick and can't run around much.”

“Who is he? I sense a good story behind,” I smirked.

“There is a story, indeed. Boss has been after him since he was seventeen and in school. Comes from the other side of the world, but lived in London. Let's make a bet, Duke. If you can guess which one of the paintings in this room belongs to him, I'll tell you the story.”

The bloody place was full with those abstract things or erotic things. All cheap in my opinion. “Ivan Ivanovich, that is very difficult. We're bankers, not art critics,” I protested.

“That one over there. The one with the bathing woman over the sink, It is a good pastel,” Konrad said before I could tell him what a fool he was, Oblomov laughed and patted him on the shoulder.

“Remind me never to bet against you again, my Duke. You are right. How did you find it out?”

“It's the only one who has some mastery behind. The one who made it has talent. You said that the boy has been his lover for two years although he's sick, therefore useless for this business, so he must be an artist and a good one for having retained Repin's favour for so long. Normally, they don't last so long. The hand that painted that woman, also painted the portrait of your wife. I'm surprised that he has already a recognisable style. How old is he?”

“Yes, the boy painted my wife's portrait too. He has some talent. I discovered him, so to speak, in 2000, when he was in school.”

“In school? I didn't know Repin liked that,” I said shocked.

“No, no, boss is not into such things. He likes them young but not to the point of changing diapers. I was at Christie's Buenos Aires buying some lands with him and I saw a watercolour of a landscape a woman had there. It was breathtaking and reminded me a lot to my own birthplace. I wanted to buy it, but the woman didn't want to sell it.”

“That doesn't sound like a happy ending story,” I chortled.

“Nothing happened, relax von Kleist. Boss saw it too and liked it a lot. I offered up to $10,000, but the little slut was only telling me that it belonged to her husband. Finally, she agreed to speak with him. We went to her house in the Pampa, a big Estancia, not bad but full with tourists and in need of a total renovation. However, the couple had many more drawings and I—as Boss had let me play boss for this time—bought several of them, including a series of ballerinas that my wife adores. I paid around $5,000 for the whole lot. Repin bought the rest for a similar amount convinced that they were from a well seasoned artist. The Dollenberg man laughed at us and told us that they were made by a sixteen year old brat; a friend of his younger brother. We thought it was a joke.”

“Boss ordered me to gather information about the artist and it was true. He was an eighteen year old boy working as a waiter in a bar. Boss fell in love with him the minute he saw him and was after him for several months till the boy noticed him.”

“Playing hard to get a better price?” Konrad snorted. “I thought Repin knew better.”

“No, that's the funny part. The boy never saw him or acknowledged him, till boss nearly shouted with him. He lives on another planet, like all artists do… and he comes from another planet too. He's a decent lad. Honest to the point of being an idiot, although he's very intelligent. Had it not been for Olga Fedorovna's meddling, he would still be happily believing that we are serious businessmen from Russia, that Repin is a respectable society member. He was studying Art History in UCL, London till seven months ago.”

“What happened?” I asked while Konrad smirked. I think he knows something and forgot to inform me.

Once more.

“She felt jealous of him and attacked him. Nearly killed him, but he survived.”

“She never cared about Repin's adventures before.”

“When they are adventures women don't care, my Duke. The problem arose when she found out that Repin had installed the boy in the London residence, the one in front of Holland Park, throwing her out of the property. She went ballistic and arranged that the boy would be attacked, raped and killed. Fortunately, his bodyguard—between you and me his job was to make sure that the boy was not playing around the corner—could get help before they would have stabbed him to death. In the hospital the doctors nearly finished him because no one knew that he had a previous and serious heart condition. He suffers from heart failure and they had to operate on him, provoking a heart attack and since that time, he's still in recovery. Can't have any kind of stress, so boss took him out of London and brought him here.”

“Is that the reason behind Stephanov's death?” Konrad asked coldly as I was horrified. I know she's a difficult woman but to order this when she could have offered money or just tell him to beat it was too much for my standards. The boy didn't look like he could be a force against you, or there was something more that Oblomov was leaving out of the picture.

“An eye for an eye. Boss is still considering the divorce express option. The children are the only stopper. Guntram, that's the boy's name, changed a lot after the attack. Before he was a good trusting lad, kind to everybody, happy in his limbo and now he's afraid of people the whole time, never speaks unless you speak with him, depressed, utterly sad and more shy than ever. He only paints the whole day or writes.”

“A near death experience has that effect on people,” Konrad retorted.

“Boss takes great care of him. He lets him play with his own children and they like Guntram very much.

Specially the youngest one, Vania.” There it's. Olga Fedorovna has a replacement. I'm not surprised she wanted to kill him. It was she or he. Anyway, there are good poisons for that matter. No need to be so brutal and slow. It can only end badly. Too many loose ends. Fast and clean is the best.

“What is his last name?” I, the idiot, asked.

“That is the funniest part, gentlemen. He is from noble birth, a distant cousin of yours even, Duke.” Why was Oblomov smiling so much and since when does he gossip with us? True we share information but nothing of a personal nature.

“I have no relatives in Argentina.”

“He is not Argentinean. He's French and partly German. His father worked for you even,” he said to our utter astonishment.

“I don't follow you, Ivan Ivanovich.”

“Easy. His full name is Guntram Philippe Alphonse de Lisle Guttenberg Sachsen. His father was Jerôme de Lisle Guttenberg Sachsen and his mother Cécile Dubois Strinberg. Are the Lintorffs not related with the Guttenberg Sachsen? According to boss, they were the main providers of wives and husbands for the whole European nobility. All of them good looking and too silly to make troubles. Good to have one around when the blood was too contaminated by marrying your cousin and producing too many monsters! Endogamy is good for the fortune but bad for the species.”

“Not silly, they are known for being very generous and kind hearted,” Konrad replied automatically as he was digesting the news. The boy was Roger's nephew! That explained the resemblance.

“Yes, that was Guntram like before the attack. Can you imagine that he was going to a slum every time he could to help in the communal kitchen? Repin had to bribe the local Mafia boss so he would kick the boy out. He didn't want to come with Repin because he didn't want to leave the children behind. He still sends part of the money he makes to the priest there. That boy has no malice or pettiness in him,” Oblomov laughed. “Electrons and protons.”

Did he wink at me?

I looked again at the lad, almost clutching onto Repin's arm, and noticed that he was doing his best to control his ragged breathing, looking truly afraid of something. Konrad was also inspecting him with that fierceness I know that leads to big troubles.

“That's a side effect. He can't be around too many people for too long; specially men. He can't stand it.

Boss will take him away soon or send him home,” Oblomov shrugged. “Ten to twenty minutes is the limit.”

As Oblomov predicted, Repin whispered something in his ear and the boy smiled nervously and dashed to the door to be intercepted by a giant with his coat. “That's Mikhail Massaiev, his bodyguard. He'll take him home.

He's getting better. Lasted twenty-three minutes.”

The rest of the night, Konrad was like absent. Working as usual and effectively dealing with Repin and his people, but I knew his mind was somewhere else that wasn't the peace agreement we had reached with that slug.

Back in our hotel, I thought it was time to stop whatever he was planning because it has taken a great toll on us to keep our positions in Central Europe against Repin's advance and Gasrom.

“Konrad, spit out what you're thinking. You're up to nothing good.”

“I? I'm only tired from the day.”

“Of course, seeing Roger's nephew has nothing to do with the fact that you're distracted and ignoring me.”

“He really looks like him.”

“Not at al. Roger was always the centre of attention and this one was scurrying to the darkest corner.

He's shorter, blonder and looks much better than him.”

“I had no idea that you were checking him so thoroughly. Should I be jealous, Ferdinand?” he mocked me.

“Idiot! Of course not. Hear me well: this boy has a “property of Mr. Repin” sign tattooed on his back.

He's been his lover for the past two years. I don't want more troubles with him. Morozov's story costed us around 4.8

billion!”

“And it took 7.3 billion plus the loss of the Georgian gas monopole for Repin. Not to mention that the Authorities are after him, now.”

“Repin cleaned his backyard and offered his apologies. Do you want to start a real war with him?”

“He attacked me and I'm the offended part. He's even asking for my support to survive the internal fight unleashed by his own greed. Perhaps I should ask for a guarantor in order to secure my own position.”

“Konrad…”

“Besides, the boy belongs to me. It's part of a previous agreement made by his father on his behalf.”

“Please, you can't be serious about it!”

“Jerôme was cleverer than I thought. He is exactly as promised.”

“Pity you didn't respect the other part of the agreement. The one about not killing the uncle? For the past thirteen years you've been after his throat.”

“Did I touch the boy? Did I touch Roger's family? No, only exiled them. Löwenstein can consider himself lucky his niece and her daughter survived it.”

“Konrad, for Christ's sake! It's his nephew!”

“His father gave him to me as a replacement for Roger. I only swore to wait till he would turn eighteen and refrain myself to press him into doing something against his wishes.”

“You don't even like young boys! You’re the first person to tell they are little dodos unable to utter a full sentence!”

“I can change my mind, can't I? We always have to evolve Ferdinand,” the asshole sauntered.

“You have been fucking every woman that came around. Lord! Do you even keep the numbers? I don't remember many boys like that one. You like dark-haired men, over thirty, not blond.”

“Perhaps I have issues of my own. Since Roger, I can't be near a blond. I don't like them. Maybe it's time to put that unreasonable belief aside. It truly narrows the hunting.”

“Excellent. Finally you agree that you need therapy and you want to have it with the favourite plaything of a vicious mobster. Truly Konrad, you need a real shrink.”

“It seems you oppose my idea, Ferdinand. Remember he's a member of the Order since birth and his father paid with his blood his right to be readmitted.”

“I hardly doubt that this was on Jerôme's mind when he made the pact. He hated and despised us!”

“Nevertheless, the boy is mine and I don't like people touching my things and we need a guarantee just to keep Repin under control for a while. My decision is made, Ferdinand. Find out everything you can about him. End of story.”

I want to resurrect Jerôme and kill him once more! He gave his brat to Konrad in exchange for his brother's life and his own and now Konrad wants to collect that old debt!

I still don't know how, but Konrad managed to be invited to Repin's house on Saturday. Confidence building measures, my ass! However, there we went, with Goran in tow, upset that he was forced to attend a “social meeting” with the slug, his little slugs, the slug wife and everything. Repin's residence was exactly as I remembered.

Big, luxurious and good taste. Must be the Arseniev in him, nothing like those pompous houses from Russian nouveau riche. Do they think they're going to die if the plumbing is not made in solid gold? Don't they have enough money as to build a garage that they need to park everything at the entrance? Maybe they're planning to set a used cars business in the yard. I fear one day, I'll find a price tag attached to the Venus in the living room.

I should have known something was wrong the minute, Repin didn't come to greet us and Olga Fedorovna was nowhere to be seen (or heard) Instead, his four children—from the girl, Sofía, 13, I guess, almost a young lady, Constantin 10, Vladimir 9 and Vania 5— were loudly playing blind man's buff in the garden with the boy, trying to catch them. All right, Olga would not accompany us.

Konrad stood there, examining him again as if he were a horse—silent. “Let's go inside. Repin should be here in any minute.” I said, willing to get him out of trouble—as if it ever had worked fine!-.

“He has to solve the issue at Novosibirsk. Might take some time Ferdinand, don't you think Goran?” He smirked to me.

“Indeed my Duke.”

Those two were plotting at my back again! We don't need extra heat in the moment and the Serb had been up to something!

“Konrad…” I started to give him a piece of my mind, but the jackass went to the children and let himself be caught by the boy who seemed to hesitate at having something so big on the hook. “Mikhail!” he guessed, removing the blind to almost die of shame under Konrad's intensive gaze.

“Wrong. My name is Konrad von Lintorff,” he introduced himself, catching him by the arm and the boy nearly jumped away. He's certainly nervous.

“I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to be disrespectful. I didn't notice you were here. Come children, we go inside,” he said in a hurry, with the smallest one clinging from his leg.

“Mr. Repin invited us but he is nowhere to be seen? Should we go away?” Konrad continued with his happy grabbing of the boy. Konrad, you're not buying tomatoes at the market!

“I'll call Mr. Malchenko in a minute, Sire,” he said, finally disentangling himself from Konrad. They all went inside the house.

“Well, it seems we wait at the door,” Konrad shrugged.

“It has improved, my Duke. Before, Russian noblemen were releasing the dogs and asking questions later,” Goran smirked. “You almost gave him his second heart attack, Sire.”

“He should be less nervous around people,” Konrad observed.

“If I would have been repeatedly raped by three goons, beaten to the point of death, my left hand destroyed with a hammer and given the opportunity to choose between amputation of the right one or be killed, I would also be nervous around people,” Goran informed us looking very sombre. “He was only twenty when it happened. Like my brother. Not surprisingly, he tried to commit suicide two and a half months ago.”

“How do you know it?” I asked in disbelief.

“Milan Mihailovic is very good for Public Relations, von Kleist. The one who looks after him, Mikhail Petrovich Massaiev, told him the whole story last night. That woman was really bent against him. It seems Repin forced her to watch how they did the same to her lover with the difference that he got a shot in the head at the end. I would have not been so merciful. Since that time, the boy lives here with the children and they're very fond of him. Of course, they know nothing about it. Only that he's an artist and very sick in the heart. He's a good boy according to Massaiev, generous but a little silly. Imagine, he feels responsible for what happened! He even told Massaiev that it was his fault that Repin was having an affair with him! He wanted to leave him so he would return to his wife!”

“No!” I blurted in disbelief. NO ONE can be so stupid!

“He even lectured Repin on the sainthood of marriage.”

“No doubt he's suicidal,” I laughed.

“He's one of us, Ferdinand. He respects our Church and God has placed him in our way so we would take him back to where he belongs.”

“Indeed, my Duke. This place is not safe for him. His line's crimes against the Order were cleaned with his father's blood,” Goran joined the party. Fuck! Those two in tandem considering themselves doing the Lord's work? If they get Michael's support, I can eat my own vote. Shit! “Repin cannot guarantee his safety.”

“Goran. It's an internal affair. Not our business.”

“He's a Guttenberg Sachsen. Should I remind you that your bloodline saved your family from certain misery? What would happen to us if we start to forget our own wows?” Goran said. “I agree with the Griffin and Dähler does it too. The boy comes with us.”

“Do you plan to kidnap him in front of Repin, Goran?” I asked him sweetly. Does he plan to play big brother with a total stranger as it seems? The nerve of him!

“No Ferdinand. Repin will give him to us,” Konrad intoned. “Follow my lead, please,” he ordered me when he saw Malchenko, Repin's man in Smolensk and a member too, approaching us, very agitated.

“My Griffin, I'm terribly sorry you were kept waiting here. Guntram told me of your coming just a minute ago!”

“Is it customary to keep your Hochmeister standing like a servant?”

“My Duke, I offer you my greatest apologies. It was a misunderstanding. Mr. Repin had to leave due to an emergency, but please, do come in.”

“Repin is not here? I came to speak with him about the terms and he's not here?”

“He will be back in a few hours and I can speak on his behalf.”

“Do I have to negotiate with a third grade member? Incredible. This is an insult to all of us, Malkovich.

We leave, now,” Konrad said, turning around to my horror. “Tell Repin I will not support his cause.”

Konrad wants to send me to an early grave. Without a doubt.

I shouted with him in the car. I shouted. He remained impassable and Goran did the same.

“I'm only improving the terms of our arrangement,” was his pathetic justification.

At noon I was furious with him. He had the nerve to send Oblomov home after speaking with him in Russian! All for a boy!

At eight he jovially announced to me that he was hungry and going to have dinner in a restaurant.

Goran was coming too. I should have known. He goes nowhere but the Königshalle! He hates local food and here we were standing in front of a sushi place. Last time we were in Japan, he took Jean Jacques along. He eats nothing that he has not tried during his childhood. I was surprised, but said nothing as I do like to try new things. I'm not such a conservative prick!

Inside Repin was sitting in a corner with many of his goons around… and the boy, Guntram, sitting next to him. He looked perplexed at Konrad but quickly returned his attention to his untouched dish. Konrad instead of doing the only reasonable thing, went in a straight line to Repin's table. Oblomov was there and he didn't look surprised upon our arrival.

“Sit down, Konrad. I'm afraid I wasn't able to see you this morning,” Repin said in English.

“I felt most disappointed, Constantin. I was looking forward to our meeting.”

“Perhaps we could have it now.”

“Perhaps”. Konrad sat in front of Repin and I next to him. I noticed Goran going to a nearby table.

“I still don't understand this change of heart from you, Konrad. Normally, your word has some value.”

“My word stands as long as you don't try to deceive me or the Order.”

“How so?”

“You have something that belongs to me, Constantin. Give it back and we will continue where we were. I don't like to be toyed.”

“I have nothing that belongs to you. We had agreed onto the territories. This is my land.”

“Please Constantin, don't insult my intelligence. You have asked me my support to save your neck from the authorities and I have given it to you. Two billion dollars, untraceable by the authorities. We had to break the money box, at good rate, I might add, and do you repay me like this?

“Twelve percent interest, Konrad. Almost usury. I'm no fortune teller. Tell me what you want now.”

“I resent that you associate with a member of the Order.”

“Clean your own backyard. I have enough with mine.”

“Don't play the lamb with me. He,” Konrad said pointing the boy. “He is a de Lisle. He belongs to me.”

“I don't belong to you!” The boy said in shock, but one sharp look from Constantin made him silent again. Good training.

“His father gave him to me in 1989 to atone for his sins against us. Return him to me.”

“No! You have no claims over him!”

“Then, I will ask for an extra guarantee for the loan you need so desperately. One of your children will be fine. Give me the smallest one. Shouldn't matter to you.”

“Lintorff leave this place before I shoot you dead.”

“My men will kill all your family if you try it. Won't they, Goran?”

“We want revenge for what happened in Georgia. Morozov's death wasn't enough, Sire. The house and this place are surrounded.”

“So Constantin, the boy for a small reduction in your rates. How about a seven percent? It's a very generous offer. Give me the boy or one of your children as a guarantee for the loan's year. After lying to me so blatantly, I can't be sure you're going to pay me back. I'll send the child to the best school and get a Russian nanny if you prefer it.”

“No, don't touch the children,” the boy spoke softly.

“Guntram, be quiet!”

“The girl could go to a boarding school. If her mother has taken a leave of absence, then it's a good time to teach her manners,” Konrad continued as nothing would have happened. He had found the breach in the dam and was going to flood the place.

“Why do you want Guntram? He has nothing. Whatever his family did in the past, it's over since ten years! Killing them all wasn't enough for you?”

“What?” shouted the boy.

“His father placed him under my protection in order to save his life. I took his offer.”

“My father committed suicide! He was never part of your Order!”

“You must carry a golden cross with your name and a date that's not your birthday. It's the day you were accepted into the Order and baptised. The cross is very special, not the usual type. It's a Crenel Cross and has small lines that make it look like the turrets from a castle. The order adopted it in the XVII century and it means “militant from the Church” because it represents a fortress. We are warriors for the Church and only a few of our members still have the right to carry it. Only the founding families. Should I tell the date? It was in your third month of life.”

“December 8th,” Guntram whispered, looking very sick.

“Our Lady's festivity. You're one of us, Guntram and under my protection. We never knew where you were all these years. I had the utmost respect for Jerôme. It's a pity he took that decision. I never blamed him for what his brothers and father did.”

Did I hear well? Jerôme despised Konrad, disapproved of his relationship with Roger like the good prude he was, always resembling to a big vulture perched on his corner, brooding. True, he was nothing like Roger or Pascal. Konrad, you gave the man a month to put his affairs in order and kill himself!

“Your understanding of the word “mercy” is very peculiar, Lintorff. You destroyed their bank, set the house on fire, killed the old Vicomte and his eldest, along with all his family and you're still trying to get rid of the other brother. Something else Lintorff?”

“Did you know about my family, Constantin? Who they were? Why did you never tell me a thing?” The boy looked at him truly hurt. Oops, someone has a skeleton in the closet.

“It was all history. Back in 1989, some members decided to replace their Hochmeister and revolted.

Somehow they were betrayed and Lintorff found out everything, killing most of them and now he wants to finish the job with you.”

“No, Constantin. I plan to honour my oath to his father. I will not touch a single hair from his head. Why would I do it? His father was the one who put Ferdinand on the right track of the traitors. We found it out several months later when his papers were discovered in a safety box in a Geneva bank. There's a letter for you even, Guntram. Right, Ferdinand?”

“Yes.” Fuck you Konrad. The letter you have it from before (Shit! He didn't destroy it as he promised me he would. The obsessive motherfucker was thinking all the time to check on the boy!) and the papers were found after putting all the parquetry out of his flat, searching for his account numbers, would have sent you for twenty to thirty years in jail… if there would be a judge in this Earth willing to read them.

“I was only defending myself Guntram. I didn't give the order as I was in the hospital as the only survivor of a shooting.” Konrad explained. (Sissy, it was only a scratch in the shoulder what you got) ”Your grandfather ordered it. Now, will you come with us quietly or should I ask my people to proceed?”

“No! Don't touch the children!”

“Guntram, be quiet! Keep your money Lintorff and leave my country.”

“All right, as you want Constantin. Don't complain when the Russian Authorities arrest you on tax evasion charges. They're very crossed for your dealings with the Chechen. Very bad boy. Olga will be very happy to get a fast divorce from you.”

“Constantin, you can't go to prison,” Oblomov interfered. “You're dead if so.”

“I'll go,” the boy offered and I admired his guts. Well, he tried suicide two and a half months ago. He can't be too sane. Lives with Repin.

“Guntram, he's bluffing. He has not a single evidence to back his words.”

“I don't have them. Your wife has them. I provided them for her. Your whole structure goes down with you. She wants to make an arrangement with the Russian Authorities. I could stop that too.”

“Olga Fedorovna would do anything to ruin you Constantin,” the boy said sounding truly sad for the slug.

“It's only a year Constantin, till you pay me back. I will return him in one piece, solve your marital problems and reduce your rates. What more can you ask from me?”

“I swear I'll destroy your life Lintorff.”

“You already tried and failed. Next time, I will not go for a settlement. Move boy, my plane awaits.”

“It's for the best boss. Our position is very frail at the moment.” Oblomov said.

“Guntram can't do it. He's very sick!”

“I will be fine, my friend. I survived it once,” the boy whispered clutching Repin's hand. “Think on you and your children. If you go to jail, who's going to look after them? It's only a year.”

“I will let you write to him or with the children. I'm not such a heartless man,” Konrad said. Pardon me?

“I don't believe for a minute you have anything against me, Lintorff.”

“5897354-CLX Does it remind you of something?” Konrad just said. That looks like an account in Luxembourg. Repin paled. “So boy, say good-bye to your benefactor and meet me in the car,” Konrad finished.

I don't know what those two said to each other, but Goran came to the car firmly holding the boy by the elbow. The poor thing looked really sick and on the brink of a collapse or a heart attack. He entered the limo and sat in front of Konrad and I, with Goran next to him. He breathed raggedly and I saw him taking a small box out of his jacket pocket and putting a small pill inside his mouth.

“What's that?” Konrad asked.

“It's against high blood pressure. I have a chronic heart condition, sir. I need to get my medications, please.”

“A doctor will asses your condition in the morning in Zürich. Give your pills to Pavicevic. I will not have you taking anything we have not controlled first.”

“Sir, it's only nifedipine and a calcium antagonist. I suffer from MCH and already had one heart attack.

Nothing to get me high.”

“I'm not concerned about drugs abuse in your case, but you have a history of suicide attempts. I prefer to be on the safe side. You are my collateral for a year at least.”

“At least?”

“If Repin pays me back, you return. If not, you stay. Will be interesting to see what he loves more: you or two billion. I would be surprised if he has some money left to pay for the interest in a year.”

This is how we “acquired” Guntram Philippe Alphonse de Lisle Guttenberg Sachsen. I had no idea Repin's wife had such material, but she has it, and according to Konrad, Goran should take care of the matter. After all, you never know with such things. Traitors and snitches are bad for business. The Serb is more than happy with the commission. I hope he's not transferring his feelings for his dead brother, Pavel, into this boy. The circumstances are pretty similar.

Konrad is after the boy. I can see it very clearly now. He was looking at him all the time in the plane, even if the poor child went to the farthest corner and stayed there, motionless, speechless, like a frightened animal.

Guntram refused to eat or drink anything from the stewardess, although we were having dinner (German cuisine, of course) and Marie was very nice to him. He didn't want to join us and Konrad left him alone while we ate and worked. We took off at 11 p.m. and those were the longest 7 hours in my life till we got home. I pitied him because he was alone, sick, afraid, going to an unknown destination with the man who had executed his whole family.

Even Goran took pity on him. Around 1 a.m., when we were wrapping up the matter with Gasrom, he came to the boy and offered him a Mars Bar he had in his pocket—never pegged Goran as someone who would carry such a thing—and the boy, after hesitating a while, took it, muttered a “thank you” and ate it. He was then fast asleep, exhausted from the tension. I noticed Konrad standing up from his desk and going to him to recline his seat and cover him with a wool blanket.

“Are you sure about this? Repin will not give up.”

“He has to pay for what he did to us and I want some guarantees that he will return the money. I'm not going to be the idiot who gave him two billion for nothing so he can rebuild his power. I prefer him on the top because he keeps the Russians in line, but make no mistake Ferdinand, the minute he tries something against me like that pre default scenario in Central Europe, he's dead.”

“What if he does not pay? What would you do with him? Kill him?”

“As I said, he very much resembles his uncle, could be very entertaining for me, although he lacks Roger's spirit in bed. He looks more like a little lamb or a kitten.”

“Great.”

“We'll see if he can't get the snake out of the hole where he's hiding. I want to terminate that business too.”

“I would like to see you try. This one is terrified of men.”

“Adds some flavour to the hunting. Whores are fine, but you eventually tire of getting everything effortlessly. Ferdinand, we're getting too old to be running from one hotel to the next. I'd rather have something fixed at home.”

“Speak for yourself.” I turned around and went back to my own seat, ready to sleep. Fuck him!

Guntram de Lisle's diary

February 16th, 2004

My life took another turn for worse two days ago. On Friday morning, I was playing with Constantin's children and there was this German from the previous days. I know now who he is. The infamous Griffin, the Hochmeister from the Order, Konrad von Lintorff, Herzog von Wittstock, rich banker from Switzerland and the murderer of my family. He swears that he had nothing to do with it as it was decided by the others members to stop an internal war; that my father gave me to him in order to save me from something called the “old Guard” and that he looked for me over the years but never found me before. He says that I'm not safe with Constantin as the attacks of his own wife had proven. He wants my well being as I'm part of the Order since I was a baby; He tells me he will let me pursue my artistic career if I want and support me even because he thinks I have some talent.

What is the difference between him and Constantin? His businesses are all legitimate, nothing murky and he effectively controls governments. No one would touch him, but he's a mobster of a worst kind than Constantin.

He had no problems to murder, threaten children and women or taking me with him just to weaken Constantin. I hope he's fine and solves the problem with his wife.

He promised to let me speak with the children if he's satisfied with my behaviour. He will let me write with Constantin or send him my works if I want, within reason, of course. Lintorff didn't let me bring a single thing from Russia, not even my pencils or medications. Nothing at all. It's not like I'm going to have a bug in my pencils box or a hidden camera in my jacket!

Lintorff has a private jet, a Boeing if I'm correct. Bigger than the one Constantin has. Lord, I miss him so much already. This place is so big and dead. Like a Mausoleum. Gloomy and perfect, nothing like at Constantin's with the children laughing and always into some mischief. The house in London was big, but full of light and he was always there to listen to me, hold me and kiss me. His eyes lit the moment I was entering the room and he did his best to look after me after what happened that night. He loves me so much even if he knows that I can't love him any more.

He never reproached me anything. He just stood by me.

As I was telling, Lintorff has a jet. Inside were he, another German of his age, two more guys, I think they're bodyguards and a medium size man, a Serb called Goran who was nice to me. Constantin told me before leaving him that I shouldn't worry because I was his angel and he loved me more than anything in this world; that he would get me back as soon as he could; that it was only temporary. I truly hope he fulfils his promise.

We arrived to Zurich at noon, for lunch time. We had breakfast in the plane and the minute we landed I was sent to a big black armoured Mercedes limousine and forced to drive with Lintorff. The German man, Ferdinand von something and Goran took another car, also Mercedes. With us were the driver and a bodyguard in the front seat.

“Guntram, as you have understood so far, you are under my tutelage for the next year. You're my pupil so to speak as your father wanted and I will treat you accordingly. Behave, obey and respect me and we shall have no problems. I will look after you, provide for you and if I think you're reliable, will send you to school. I was informed you were studying in London before this incident.”

“I can't return to school. I can't stand people around. I have panic attacks when I see them.”

“Nonsense. There are medications for that. Dr. Wagemann, my personal physician will evaluate you as soon as we are at home. During the week, you will be taken to a Clinic and further evaluated. For the time being, you will remain at home. Make a list of the materials you normally use for painting so you have something to do.”

“Can I speak with Mr. Repin, please?” I pleaded to the rock.

“As soon as I deem it proper. You have to adjust to your new environment.”

His house is a big castle in the middle of a large forest. Very beautiful and full with plants. An interior courtyard with trees inside, an old tower complemented with four wings built around in the XIX century. It looks like a fortress, more than a family residence. When we arrived and the chauffeur opened the door for him, I remained in the car, frozen in my fear. “Come, Guntram. It's too cold for you to remain outside,” he told me, somewhat using a warmer voice than what I have heard previously. I gulped and followed him through up the marble stairs to the big door, with his coat of arms on top of it. In the foyer, all the servants were waiting for him as the temperature outside was well below zero and very wet. I counted seven maids, three more men with cooks uniforms and four butlers, one very tall and aristocratic, looking like the boss of all of them. He was looking at me perplexed, almost in shock, as if he would have seen a ghost.

“Guntram, this is Friederich. He's the Manager. Anything you might need, ask him,” Lintorff told me, showing me the big serious bird. “Friederich, Guntram is Jerôme de Lisle's son, do you remember him?”

“Certainly, your Excellency,” the man answered, gaping at Lintorff.

“He will be staying with us as my charge. Guntram, do you like blue or yellow?”

“Blue, Sire,” I answered totally clueless.

“Good choice. The blue rooms are in the tower under my apartments. The red one is too girlish.

Friederich, have it ready for after lunch. Guntram might need some rest after the flight.”

“As you wish, your Excellency.”

“Dismissed,” he only said and the army just disappeared silently, only he, von Kleist and the Serb remained in the room.

“May I have a word with the Duke?” the butler asked.

“What is it Friederich?”

“In private, Sire,” he said.

“Ferdinand, can you show Guntram the library or the winter garden? Ask for a tea or something hot, the boy looks sick,” Lintorff ordered.

“Konrad, I've been your tutor for over forty years and this is the craziest thing you've ever done,”

Friederich started. “De Lisle, as in Roger de Lisle?”

“Nephew, son of Jerôme. Remarkable resemblance, don't you think?” Konrad answered, impassable as always.

“Are you out of your senses?”

“His father gave him to me as you already know. I found him interesting and taking him away from Repin was a punishment on a personal level. Don't worry, the boy is harmless, in fact he's terrified of everything. Bad experiences in Russia.”

“You can't be thinking on that. He's just a boy! How old is he? Does he know about your past?”

“He might be around twenty-one years old. He's an artist and a good one. I have taken him as a collateral guarantee. He will be returned to his master in a year, if he pays me back, of course.”

“Nothing else? Don't lie to me Konrad, I know you better than your own father.”

“Well, I admit he has some charm on his own. Nothing like the uncle and probably couldn't do a third of what the uncle was doing in bed. He doesn't look very proficient in such matters. Besides he has a heart condition and is in recovery from a heart attack, a suicide attempt, several rapes by Repin's wife men, tortures and so on. Russia is not the best place to be.”

“Do you say it like this? Have you no heart? He's only a child!” The old man asked horrified at his former pupil's coldness.

“I took over with twenty-two. Take care of him; he's nothing like the uncle. He's a shy and kind creature.

You have to take him to the clinic the doctor Wagemann will inform you, get him some clothes, paper or whatever he uses for painting. I'm naming Alexei Antonov as his guard. He's not supposed to leave the Castle alone or unsupervised. Ah, tell the cook to be easy on the salt. He has a heart condition. No fat at all in his diet. If he behaves, he'll go to school or take painting lessons.”

“As his Excellency wishes,” Friederich chewed his acceptance.

The man, Ferdinand took me to the library and told me to sit by the fire. “Are you feeling all right, child?” he asked me and I nodded, unable to speak. The Serb followed him and they started to speak in German. I only stared at the flames while the warm was giving me back some confidence.

“Guntram. I'll take you today to the city if you want,” Goran told me. “Perhaps you'd like to buy some pencils for working later.”

“It's not necessary, Mr. Pavelic.”

“It's Pavicevic, but you can call me Goran.”

“Thank you.”

“I understand that you feel lost, but believe me, this is for the best. Olga Fedorovna would have not stopped until your total annihilation,” Goran said. “You'll be fine here. The Duke can be a generous man.”

“I would be better at home,” I whispered.

“It can't be. You're one of us little brother. How could a good boy like yourself be entangled with Repin?”

“I didn't know who he was. I loved him till I knew how he was. I wanted to go home but he didn't let me because I was too sick. I tried to escape, but Mikhail caught me before I would have succeeded. I didn't know you need warm water to keep the blood flowing. The doctor brought me back.”

“Why was that? Your life is a gift from God and you have a talent for making beautiful things. Oblomov told me you also like to help people. Why did you want to throw everything away?” Goran asked me softly.

“I can't stand the memories.”

“They will fade away with time or they will be replaced with happier ones. I know what happened in London. Repin punished those men who touched you. You have to continue with your life and forget it, if you can. Life is too short to live it in pain or sorrow. Think of this as a new opportunity. A fresh new start, away from Repin,”

Goran said and I truly wanted to believe him.

“A brand new start, with your own people,” Ferdinand added. “No one knows what happened or where you come from. The Duke has introduced you as his ward and believe me, no one will question his decisions.”

“Constantin said he killed my family.”

“Please, do you believe in a mobster's word? The old Guard made the decision when he was incapacitated in the hospital,” Ferdinand told me. “We never had anything against your father. In fact, he discovered his brother’s and father's plot against us. He always considered that Konrad was the best option as Griffin and Hochmeister.”

“I don't understand it.”

“Do you think your own father would have given you to the man who killed his family? Didn't you father love you, child? He gave you to Konrad, and we can prove it, because he believed he would protect you from the old Guard. You were only a child in 1989. We searched for you all over Europe, but we never found you, till now. Tell me, why Repin never told you he knew about your lineage?”

“I don't know.”

“Because he knew that the moment we would have heard about you, we would have taken you back with us. We would have never left you in the hands of a gangster! Look what his wife did to you just to protect her credit card!”

“Constantin was very generous with me,” I defended him.

“But for how long?” Goran said. “That he loves you doesn't mean that he has the integrity to have you.”

Lintorff entered the room and both men stood up. I did the same without realising it. “Gentlemen,” he indicated them that they could sit again and we did. “Guntram, my doctor will see you after lunch. He will give your prescriptions to Friederich.”

“My Duke, may I take Guntram to Zurich this afternoon?” Goran asked.

“It all depends on the doctor's word. If he agrees, you can do it, Goran. Tell Antonov to come by later.

Ferdinand, do you want to stay for lunch?”

“No, I'll go home.”

“I will be back at four with Antonov, Sire,” Goran said and both men dashed to the door, leaving me alone with the monster.

“It seems it's only us for lunch,” He shrugged and went to the big desk, sitting there. I stood up to leave him but he only barked. “Grab a book and sit by the fire. No need to go away.” I obeyed him because I didn't know where to go or what was I allowed to do in this house. “The art section is over there.” He indicated to me and I took a volume on medieval wood carving. I was fascinated by one carver, Till Riemenschneider, how he was making the figures, a Renaissance man in the middle of the Gothic. He was not even applying a polychrome on them. I looked at it for a long time, lost in the hands details or the folds in the draperies or the long silhouettes from his virgins.

“The Madonna in the Chapel was made by him. You will see it tomorrow when Pater Bruno comes for Mass. Are you a Catholic?”

“Yes, Duke. I was rose a Catholic. I used to work for the Church in the slums back in Buenos Aires. I couldn't attend Mass in Russia because of my health.”

“You will attend the ceremony tomorrow with me. Pater Bruno will be delighted to be your Spiritual Director. From which order was the priest you were helping?”

“No order. He was a priest. Pater Patricio was in the Third World Movement of Priests, nothing else.” I answered. “He was our religion teacher in the school and used to take us there to teach us some empathy.”

“Did he succeed?”

“I was going every time I could. I try to support him every time I can.”

“With the other students, boy. I know that with you was very successful. Massaiev told my men that Repin had to pay the local dealer to shoo you. Is it true you preferred the mud to the London cobblestones?”

I felt very bad. Did Constantin really do it? That would have explained Cucho's sudden change of heart.

He never had problems with me before till that day. His daughter liked me and was crying when I left. “I don't know. I was very happy there,” I whispered.

“Perhaps you could help my cousin Gertrud. She's Ferdinand's wife and the President of the Lintorff Foundation. We mostly finance charity projects from the Church, but we have some of our own. She always complains that she has not enough people to help her with the choosing. We have to find something for you to do here.

Something that is not too stressful.”

The serious butler entered and announced that lunch was served.

I got hospital food for a change. Apple juice and mineral water. It seems the doctor was already speaking with the chef. However, it tasted fantastic even if there was not an ounce of salt in the whole thing and it was a chicken breast.

After the main dish was served by Friederich, he left the small dining room and Lintorff started again.

“I don't understand why first you were studying Social Work, visiting popular areas and then you registered for Art History in UCL. I thought you liked it.”

“Mr. Repin insisted on the change. He said that I needed to acquire a broader artistic background to paint better. According to him, I should explore on my own boundaries, and a sound academic foundation would be the best. I took some classes with a private teacher, but I never got along with the rest of the students. I'm too classical and dull for Modern Art.”

“I saw the portrait you made of Repin's four children at his office. Very beautiful indeed. Also the one from Oblomov's wife. It's true that you're very classical but you already have a style.”

“I can draw, that's all.”

“We will look for a teacher for you. You should not loose your practice. Perhaps we could register you for the University in the spring term.”

“It's not necessary. I will not stay for so long, Sire.”

“We'll see.”

The doctor, a man in his sixties, came after lunch and checked me and my medications. He decided to maintain what I had previously taken as he confirmed my diagnosis; heart failure due to h ypertrophic cardiomyopathy. He left several samples and told Friederich, the butler to take me on Monday to the Hirschbaum Clinic where I should see Dr. van Horn and he would adjust the doses. He left a diet and the indication of no stress at all for me. As it would be so easy.

“Mr. de Lisle, would you like to go to Zurich with Mr. Pavicevic and me?” The man asked me after showing the doctor out. Lintorff had disappeared into his library after eating and remained there. “If you're too tired from the flight I can ask the tailor to come over here in the late afternoon.”

“No, it's all right. I'll go. No need to trouble the man,” I said, and the butler attempted to smile at me for the first time.

“As you wish. We'll drive at 4:00 when Mr. Pavicevic arrives.”

“Excuse Mr…” What was his last name?

“My last name is Elssäser but is sufficient to call me Friederich, sir.”

“It's about that. No one ever calls me sir, it drives me nervous as I'm not used to it. People call me de Lisle or Guntram, Mr. Friederich.”

“No need to use a title with me. His Excellency does not tolerate the slightest informality around him and he has introduced you as his ward therefore you belong to his family and should be treated accordingly. Besides, if I understood correctly, you're the Vicomte de Marignac and your grandfather's sole heir.”

“It's hard for me to call you only by your name. You're my elder. I don't want to be disrespectful.”

“You will not be. I could call you by your Christian name when the Duke is not around, but the rest of the service will address to you as sir. You will be under my personal care for the moment like the Duke is. Once you're settled you might choose, if you prefer so, another butler.”

“Thank you, but I don't want to trouble you.”

“You will be no trouble at all, child.”

“The Duke told me I can attend Mass tomorrow. Is the Church far away from the house?”

“The chapel is crossing the courtyard, around the castle. I will inform Pater Bruno of your coming. Do you want to go to confession, Guntram?”

“Yes, I do.”

“The service is in German, do you think you would be able to follow it?”

“I speak not a word of German. Does the Pater speak English or French?”

“Both languages. I'll look for a service book for you so you can take a look tonight, child,” he told me, using a grandfather voice, making me feel less nervous around him.

“About the tailor, I have my clothes still in St. Petersburg. Mr. Repin will have no problems to send them here…”

“The Duke forbids you to have anything more from that man, Guntram. He does not belong to our entourage and will never be one of us like you are. It's unfortunate that you were living with him for so long, but fortunately this has not provoked any further damages in your well being. I'll show you your room now.”

It seems the butler really rules in this house.

The famous blue room in the tower was on the second floor of the tower part, as the first floor had been transformed into some offices, the second was divided in the blue and the red rooms and on the top was the duke's private area. My room was painted in a beige colour but the draperies were blue, the covers on the bed also blue, the carpets in blue and the chairs and chaise longue under the big window overlooking the gardens were blue. I had a desk and a bathroom. According to Friederich it was a guest room for the family. My schedule was going to be the following. I should be ready at 7:30 a.m. to have breakfast with his Excellency in the dinning room, after that, he would go to his work in Zürich and then, I was free to do whatever I pleased for the moment till 7 p.m. when the Duke would return home and have dinner with me or with other guests if something had been planned. I'm supposed to be quiet about anything I might hear in a conversation within these walls. Many top people from finances and politics come here almost every night the Duke is in the city. During the week, Friederich would speak with Pater Bruno and will find something for me to do (?) I was ordered to rest till 4:30 p.m. when we would drive away.

Being alone in that room nearly made me cry like a baby. I never felt so alone since I knew about my father's death. I sat on the bed uncertain of what to do. Escaping was out of the question as the place is a fortress. I saw several men walking around on the outside part of the house. There are video cameras discreetly placed everywhere, the windows are bullet proof and the guards are armed. The nice one, Goran, was carrying a Walther P99.

Constantin told me once Lintorff was rich like the devil and paranoid to a crazy point, seeing betrayals everywhere. His personal fortune was twice as much as Constantin's and he had hedge funds, banks worth five hundred billion, without counting the extent of the Order's illegal operations as they “process” the money coming from every gangster in Europe, reinvesting their winnings into industry and finance. They were even working part time with the Russians till the problem with Morozov.

I heard a soft knock on my door and I opened it to find Lintorff standing there. I was shocked, but moved aside to let him in. He inspected the room briefly but thoroughly.

“Is everything to your liking, Guntram?”

“Yes, sire. Thank you.”

“Anything you might need, ask Friederich. Are you sure you want to drive to Zurich now? I've just spoken on the phone with Dr. Wagemann and he informed me that your condition is more serious than I originally estimated. You should have not even travelled for so long. You should rest today and tomorrow. I apologise for my rudeness last night.”

“Sire, I don't want to cause any more troubles than necessary. I'll go now and rest tomorrow if you agree to it,” I added the last part as no matter how polite and nice he sounds, he's my jailer.

“As you prefer Guntram. Perhaps it would be good if you go with Goran and choose some painting material so you can stay inside the house for the next week. None of us knows a thing about pencils or papers. The doctor says that you should not be out in the cold. It's only till your body adjusts to the weather.”

“I understand, Sire.”

“You can call me Konrad. We are going to live under the same roof for some time and the best would be that we reach some sort of understanding between us. I have no ill thoughts against you or your line nor a bad disposition toward you personally. I give you my word that I will do whatever is in my hands to make you feel comfortable around us. My problems with Repin should not affect you.”

“What will happen if you don't collect your debt in a year?”

“You're very mistaken if you're thinking that the minute he does not pay me I will kill you and send your body to him. This is not the Russian Mafia. I will consider that he has lost any claims on you and keep you with me.

You're a member of the Order and have never risen against me; therefore it's my duty to protect you. Regardless of what that criminal might have told you about us, we operate under strict codes and harming a hostage is a very serious crime against our beliefs. Not all of our brothers are involved in finance or industry. Some of us are placed in governments, scientific organizations, universities or the performing arts as they play a key role in our society. We will find something for you to do, Guntram.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

“Konrad,” he corrected me mildly, but in a scary way. He's not a nice man no matter how polite he looks. Constantin says he's vicious when he kills. “Pavicevic will come in an hour with your personal bodyguard. You will obey all his commands if you want to leave the residence. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sire… Constantin, Konrad I mean.” Old habits die hard. Constantin bosses me exactly as him.

“Try not to mistake me with that man. Rest till four,” he ordered coldly and left the room. I collapsed on the bed, never so tired in my life but at quarter to four, I rose and washed my face, ready to continue with the charade.

Unsure, I took the stairs down and stood at the bottom of the stairwell, not knowing what to do or where to go.

Fortunately, Friederich in “civilian” clothes, a dark brown tweed jacket and matching trousers and an aristocratic expression, came out of nowhere and told me to go to the library as the Duke was already with Pavicevic and Antonov. He must have taken pity on my lost expression because he led me through the long corridor, passing the big living room, the ballroom and dining room, toward the library, a room with large windows overlooking the garden and the snow. Lintorff was sitting behind his desk and the other two men standing in front of him. One was a huge blond, with a baby face and contagious smile.

“Come over here, Guntram. This is Alexei Gregorevich Antonov and he will take care of you. Obey him in everything. He received medical training in the Red Army as your health is so poor at the moment. He will be with you on a permanent basis and will be staying in the rooms next to yours.”

“How do you do, Mr. Antonov?” I said, gulping at the thought that the giant, well jailer would be with me all the time. There's no chance I can outrun him and speak with Constantin.

“Hello Guntram. I'm pleased to meet you.”

“Antonov will stay here while I speak with him. You can go now with Pavicevic and Friederich, Guntram,” he dismissed me.

“Thank you… Konrad,” I added in haste after he looked at me with certain fury for not using his name.

Lintorff’s short temper is well-known. It even reaches Russia.

The butler sat next to me in the big Audi and took me to the tailor's shop but it looked more like an atelier. Friederich gave me in the car a small book and showed me the things I should look from the highway. Goran and the driver were in front and silent the entire journey. I caught him inspecting me several times in the rear view mirror. The shop was in an elegant building near the big lake and the train station. It had no front window at all, and when you entered it was like an elegant flat. Friederich and an old man went with me into a private room and the tailor only took measures from me as the butler was softly speaking with him in German. I have no idea of what they said to each other but at some point he told me: “Guntram, do you want to take a walk around with Mr. Pavicevic?

Mr. Arendt has to organize the packages and it might take some time. It becomes very cold after sunset.”

“Yes, Friederich.”

Goran silently led me to a near stationary shop. Very elegant and full of expensive things. He simply ordered me. “Get what you need for painting at home for a week or two. You will be staying in the castle till we organize your activities.”

“What should I get?”

“Whatever you like. Pencils, paper, chalks or acrylics. I don't know.”

“An A4 ream and 12 colour pencils would be fine. I can use old newspapers,” I said, after meditating and he growled at me, yes he did.

“Madam, could you give him a good set of pencils, over ninety colours, some sketch pads in different sizes, charcoals, a set of graphite pencils. Do you prefer watercolours or acrylics? Friederich will kick you out of the house if you bring oil paints in your first week.

“It's too…” His killer's look made me be quiet. “Watercolours,” I whispered.

“Add the proper kind of paper and brushes for that, too.” He finished the shopping under the woman's big opened eyes. She looked for the things and made a big pile… ten different size pads? Does he plan to make me paint the Sistine? Without looking at the final number, which must be really high because the pencils were Caran d'Ache and it was a wood box set of one hundred twenty-four colours and the watercolours also, Goran signed the receipt and took the three bags.

“Do you want a coffee? No, you can't have one. A tea or a chocolate then,” he asked me, surprising me a little. He's not supposed to be nice to me. I'm his hostage or guarantor as they called me last night. “Friederich might be busy for some time. He'll call me when he's finished.”

“I don't know.”

“Good, we go to Sprüngli. It's around the corner and all tourists love it. The cherry cake is good.”

I followed him meekly. I know better than to argue with one of them. He ordered me a tea and some cherry cake. “Chocolate might be too much. Once the doctors clear you, you can have it.”

I took care of my cake and kept silent while he studied me. “You're truly quiet. Were you before like that or is it because you're nervous to be here?”

“I don't talk much and hear less. Don't want to know what all of you are up to,” I replied and he chuckled.

“Good idea when you're around Repin. You really didn't know who he was?”

“When I met him, he was the owner of a big oil conglomerate and several transport companies. I never asked what he was doing as it's impolite to question people about money. He told me he had a foundation for helping artists and likes art a lot. He didn't want me at the beginning because he said I was the type who wants to stay for long. I don't know how, but I fell for him and when you're in love, you don't ask much. You just want people to be perfect and he was for me. He was always very considerate to me and supported me much more than financially.

Sometimes, I think that the heart attack was more due to finding out who he was than because of the attack,” I whispered and I still wonder why did I tell those things to a perfect stranger.

“Don't you love him any more?”

“That's none of your business!” I growled but he only looked at me. “I used to love him a lot, but now, I don't know any longer. I dislike and hate his private ventures. How can he sell weapons that he knows are going to kill women and children in Africa? What about those poppy seeds? And the prostitution? Lord, some of them even buy children for that! But you're no better than them. Only look more legal and respectable. Happy now?” I said contemptuously and he remained silent for some minutes, musing about something.

“Pavel, my brother used to think like that. He was a good pianist, but he was killed during the war in 1995. He never wanted to be in the Order and I respected his wish, although my uncle Mladic made an enormous pressure to get him in. He was twelve years younger and I took care of him since he was thirteen when our father died in an ambush against the Duke in 1989.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you.”

“You didn't. It's over. You two are so similar, not physically but in the way you think, your experiences and how you act. You remind me of him a lot. The Croat tortured him and left him to die in the forest as revenge to me.

He was dead when I found him and I have prayed to God many times for a chance to redeem myself for his death. He was a truly innocent boy and had nothing to do with my business.”

“It's horrible,” I whispered, feeling very sick but sad at the same time.

“There are no neutral grounds in this, Guntram. You have experienced it already. You were in love with Repin, but his wife decided to get rid of you and you paid the consequences of his infidelity and lack of vision. It's true that we have to deal with some people like Repin but it's not the norm. We get money from them, but the main objective of the Order is to support its members in their legitimate business. We keep them under control and they obey us. This is a safe place to live compared to other places in the world. Among us, you are safer than with Repin even if you don't want to believe us. They're gangsters and we are not.”

“Forgive me if I can't tell the difference,” I smirked.

“We live under a code and we respect each other. None of us would go against a brother because the punishment is terrible. What you suffered is unthinkable in our brotherhood.”

“Constantin told me that the Duke was almost deposed when Morozov went against him. He also told me that four of his associates were murdered. My whole family was killed too.”

“Executed for treason, yes, not sadistically raped or forced you to choose your own execution method.

We don't cause pain unless it's necessary. Under our codes, your relationship with Repin would have been a private matter and never be judged. Olga Fedorovna got help from Repin's associates because they wanted to weaken him.

She didn't act alone. You're a target for them, especially now that he's very weakened after the Duke attacked him because of Morozov's little war. His execution only stopped that his Excellency would have gone one step further.

They're at a stalemate, recovering and bidding their times to attack each other again, Guntram.”

“Why do you tell me all this?” I said desperately. This is not my game at all!

“So you know the game. You're part of it now, whether you like it or not. You can't leave it, only choose a side and pick your allies. I'm willing to help you and the Duke too. We took your side in the voting to take you in or not, Guntram. Trust him, he has a lot of integrity and is a good friend to his friends, but you will have to earn his trust, too. He considers you part of our circle—if not he wouldn't have said “ward” to refer to you—and our first rule is no lies among us.”

“Why would he do that? He killed my family.”

“Your family, not your father. He committed suicide as he was very sick with cancer. I have his medical reports from St. Sulpice hospital in Paris. The same type as your grandmother had. He saved the Duke's life by telling Ferdinand von Kleist where to look for traitors. We found it out when we got his personal papers, hidden in a safe box in Geneva. Your uncles sold the whole Order to some press reporters and attacked his Excellency. My own father died in that ambush trying to save his life. It's an irony that the same people who took a part of my life, give it back now.

Our Lord's ways are unfathomable, Guntram.”

“Mr. Pavicevic, we leave now,” Friederich interrupted us with a very stern face and then, he said something in German to him.

“I'm glad you share my view Mr. Elssäser,” Goran said very seriously and threw a fifty francs note over the table.

Back in the Castle it was about dinner time and Lintorff ordered to have it in the small dinning room like lunch. Again I had to sit at his left side while a butler served us.

“Did you like Zurich?” he asked casually.

“Yes, it's very beautiful, sir, I mean, Konrad.”

“Did you walk around?”

I pondered for a second about lying to him, but it seemed to be a bad idea. Probably the other would tell him later. “No Konrad.” He seemed pleased that I had used his Christian name. “I had a coffee with Mr. Pavicevic.

He told me about his dead brother, that my family killed his father, that you had taken me into the “inner circle” and would not lie to me.”

“I'm surprised that Goran has spoken so much. Must be his longest talk of the year. Normally, he only tells a few words. He must be very fond of you.”

“Is it true?”

“What?”

“That you won't lie to me?”

“Yes, I have no reason to.”

“Did my father go against his own family?”

“He was against the ones who tried to depose me. Their ruling might had been much worse than mine.

He realised this and put Ferdinand on the right track. He never said a word against his family. We discovered it thanks to him, but technically, he never informed me. In fact, he gave you to me as a way to atone for his deeds against the Order and I took his offer because I didn't want the others to attack a small child. When I informed the Council about my decision, I said that you were going to be my ward; therefore you were officially part of my line; untouchable so to speak. Your father was many things but never a traitor.”

“What kind of a person was he?”

“I don't know. No one knows. He never spoke about anything, but worked fine as he was a brilliant lawyer. Very stern, determined and serious. Lived almost like a monk and we could never find what he had done with the money he was obviously earning at the bank. How he got it into Argentina for you is a mystery that he took to his grave.”

“Why didn't he tell you where I was?”

“I don't know, perhaps he didn't trust me enough. After all, he didn't know me at all. We were never friends. He was some sort of outcast by his own family as his father was furious when he rejected to marry a very rich woman from Germany at about your age. I know she went after him after your mother passed away, but he dismissed her once more, telling her he was already married. Many would have not resisted such an offer. He must have loved your mother very much, a love that lasts to the grave.”

“I never knew her. Did you?”

“No, she was not from our circle and he never introduced her to any of us. Ferdinand knew your father better than I. Strangely, you look more like his younger brother, Roger. Must be the Guttenberg Sachsen blood in you, because Jerôme looked exactly like the Vicomte.”

“Could I have my photo album from Russia, please? It's the only thing I have left from my family, but you don't want anything from there.”

“I will try to get it from Repin.”

“Could I speak with him, please? He must be worried about me.”

“No. If I am satisfied with your behaviour, I will let you speak with him in the future.”

“Please, Duke, only a call to tell him I'm fine. I couldn't say good-bye to the children.”

“All right, perhaps tomorrow night, but I will be present,” he conceded.

“Thank you, Konrad,” I said softly, unsatisfied, but what else could I do?

After eating, he insisted that I remain in the library reading or drawing, as it was too early to go to bed and he had some papers to finish. I went to my room to look for a sketch pad and some pencils and found Friederich organizing some clothes in the closet. Back to the library, Lintorff ordered me to sit next to him on the big couch and I obeyed him, trying to put as much distance as possible. He left me alone for an hour or more, silently reading his papers first and then drinking and deeply thinking, probably a way to continue his war with Constantin or another person.

I think he's a twisted bastard even if he looks great for his age. He can't be more than fifty and has very noble, aristocratic features. His face is not symmetrical but very masculine and his ice blue eyes are very inquisitive.

Very tall, much more than Constantin, perhaps 6 foot 2 and a powerful body. I wonder if the story about him killing a man with only one brutal punch to the face is true as Mikhail told me. There are so many stories around! They even say that Constantin killed a woman in front of a man and forced him to eat her heart because he had betrayed him because of her! Probably is not true. Gangsters are like children, blowing everything out of proportion. Mikhail even told me once that one of Lintorff's men refused to behead a man and dared him to do it… and he did the three awaiting for “execution” plus the frustrated executioner. Lord! Things they tell! He's a bastard for forcing me to come here but come on! He looks like a prince who would have a nervous breakdown if his bespoken jacket or his Italian shoes were stained with blood!

“Guntram, go to bed. You must be tired. Breakfast is at nine and the service at ten. Pater Bruno will hear your confession after it.”

“Yes, good night, Konrad.”

“Good night, sleep well.”