Chapter 24

“I think I found Jacques! Look, in the picture. It's him; it's a Richard Steiff teddy bear, model created in 1902, fifty-one centimetres, dark chocolate mohair felt, circa 1905, estimated price £ 1,000 to £ 3,000?… Sold for

£ 4,348! Who pays so much for a bear?” Guntram was baffled, his stare fixed on the brilliant pages of the Christie's 1999 catalogue of Teddy Bears.

“A piece with provenance, like your own one, is more valuable. Have I told you about our insurance company services? We specialize in collectors items like this thing. Friederich, with such noble origins, this bear will require using the Lions' service. It's already sitting in a high chair at Guntram's studio.”

Friederich chose to ignore the childish bantering; without a doubt Konrad was for some dark reason, jealous of the attention the old toy was receiving. His pupil could live with Guntram forgetting the world around him when he painted, but that he had kept the bear with him or taken it to Ostermann to ask him if he knew someone who could tell him anything about the bear as he remembered that it had belonged to his grandmother, Sigrid zu Guttenberg Sachsen, therefore it should be almost an antiquity.

“Or perhaps we should keep it under a glass,” Konrad mumbled, upset that he was purposely being ignored.

“Must be its colour. I don't remember this particular dark shade when I was a child. Most of them were beige or light brown,” Friederich commented while he sat the teapot and pastries over the table in the library.

“Maybe it's only dirty,” Konrad suggested and Guntram looked at him with real fury in his eyes.

“Where is Luitpold, my Duke?” Friederich asked and Konrad blushed violently much to Guntram's astonishment.

“Who's Luitpold?” the boy asked, believing that he was going to hear one of Konrad's adventures.

“No one,” Konrad barked and throwing a killer's look at his Tutor.

“He's more or less the size of Jacques, although he's forty years younger and in a honey colour, Guntram.

He was very well loved and carried all over the house by its ear. Perhaps we will have to remove it from its box,” he pondered, serving the tea to Guntram.

“No! Leave it as it is. It's well packed and protected against mots!”

“Yes, that's true. I remember his Excellency asked me to bring it to Steiff's in Zurich so it would be cleaned it and packed, not six or seven years ago. But I don't remember where the box is.”

“Don't take me for a fool, Friederich! You're perfectly aware that Luitpold's box is on the second shelf counting from the top in my dressing room! To the left!”

“How dumb of me, my Duke,” Friederich exclaimed in mocked contemplation, before leaving the room.

“Do you really have a teddy bear, Konrad?”

“It's packed since I was ten. I only asked it to be repaired because the ear was about to fall off.”

“We might have to put them together. They could be friends.”

“If I were you, I would hide my bear before the children come and find it. I don't think it would survive another generation, especially if the babies carry the Lintorffs' genes,” Guntram had no other choice than laughing and dropping the subject.

The bear remained in its chair much to Konrad's annoyance, but he never mentioned the subject again.

Guntram de Lisle's Diary

November 24th

I'm still trembling from the nerves. This morning I went to Ostermann's studio to help with the packing of my four paints for the exhibition in Berlin; the Madonna, a group of children reading; some of the women I paint with in the studio, copying a nude model and a portrait from Marie Amélie von Kleist, as she accepted to let me make some sketches from her face but with dark brown hair as I feel it looks much better than the platinum blonde look. She comes a lot to the house as she studies with Armin Banking and Finance. Both are in the second year. Can you believe that I have to sit with them in the room they're studying per Konrad's orders? It's horrible! I do my best to make myself scarce and mind my own business with my pencils or watercolours, but I'm perfectly aware of Armin's romantic intentions toward her.

I hate completely to be a chaperon, third wheel or whatever it's called. It's not as if Armin is going to jump on top of her and drag her under the oak table. They're twenty-two or twenty-three years old and I bet she's not a virginal maid to be protected. Konrad can be so old fashioned. They are just cousins in second or third degree.

Gertrud is Albert's cousin. IF Ferdinand von Kleist would have told me something like “take care of my daughter's virtue”, I would be defending it, but he doesn't care at all. The mother also not.

It's really not my problem if they run away to their things after school or after studying here on weekends. That bloody garden-forest is sixty acres and very cold for me to run after them. I guess he's in love with her since he was twelve and now it's his big break.

Back to the story. We were packing the things when a private courier arrived with a letter for me. “I'm not your post office, boy.” Sweet Ostermann told me while I opened the letter not knowing who could have sent it. I use the e-mail mostly with my friends from the University or former school classmates. I guess everything I write is monitored by Goran's people, just for security reasons. After all, Konrad leaves all his papers, blackberry, laptop and many other things on my desk or in the bedroom. Inside the envelope was only the paper with the safe box directions and the key. I was frozen and lost the minute I saw it.

I didn't know what to do and I thought that if he can send this, then he can take me away too.

I asked Heindrik to drive me to the bank and first he complained a lot but gave up when I told him I had a letter from Repin. He colourfully swore in Swedish and left me in front of Goran's office as “the Duke is in meetings, dear. Perhaps in two hours I could make a hole in his schedule,” according to Monika van der Leyden, his secretary.

“When did you get this?” Goran asked me in a way that chilled my bones, looking at the paper and key, without touching them.

“An hour ago. At Meister Ostermann's studio.”

“And you're perfectly aware of its use and provenance, isn't it?”

“Yes, I am. Repin gave it to me in Rome and told me someone from my family had given it to him along with my bear.”

“Why didn't you tell us?”

“I don't know.”

“That's not an acceptable answer, Guntram.”

“I thought it was from my uncle Roger and the Duke hates him! I didn't want him to go after him! Then, I only got the box with the bear and I thought that maybe I had dreamed about it with all the drugs I had in!”

“Roger de Lisle is a traitor and so are you for hiding this information to us.”

“I'm not a traitor! I don't even know if this is from him! Why would he give it to me if he never cared about me?”

“You lied to us. You said the bear was in St. Petersburg with you but you had given it away at the age of twelve, to your lawyer's and he sent it to a “living relative of yours” who happens to be in league with Constantin Repin, informing him about our methodologies. Am I wrong, Guntram?”

“No, Goran, you're right,” I whispered.

“I will increase the vigilance over you, Guntram. This is very serious and dangerous for you. I will speak with the Duke. Leave the things here and return to your teacher's.”

“Yes, Goran.”

“One more thing. What is inside the safe box?”

“I don't know. According to Repin, it should be one Bronzino drawing, very valuable, from my father's, some gold bullions, photos and nothing more. I can't remember well.”

“Go back to work, now.”

I spent the rest of the day in the studio trying to paint but it was impossible. Finally, I settled for studying. At four, Heindrik drove me home and I remained in my studio with Mopsi. Late in the evening, Konrad, Goran and Ferdinand arrived and locked themselves up in the library. Friederich told me they wanted to see me.

They were sitting like in a courtroom. Konrad in the middle, Ferdinand at his right and Goran at his left.

They wore sour and stern expressions and none of the greeted me or offered to sit.

“Keeping vital information from us is a serious offence, Consort,” Ferdinand started and I looked at him, shocked to hear him using that word with me.

“I didn't consider it important, sir.”

“Unimportant? A link to one of the men who rose against us and tried to kill your own Consort and Griffin?” he asked in disbelief.

“I didn't believe it was real, I never saw this paper again, till today! I thought it was a taunt from Repin!”

“We decide what is real and not! Not you, boy!” Ferdinand shouted me. “You didn't tell the Summus Marescalus and much less your Griffin that a member of your family wanted to contact you and that you had physical evidence that could lead us to him or her!”

“I didn't have anything! The paper and the key disappeared!”

“You're a traitor like your entire bloodline! We accepted you like one of us and granted you our protection and you betrayed us!” Konrad said in low voice and I looked at him.

“I didn't betray you nor the Order. I don't even know if this is true or another twisted game!”

“You will be punished for this.”

“As the Hochmeister wishes,” I said. “He knows better.”

“Tell us the name of your lawyer.” Goran said for the first time.

“No, look for it by yourself.”

“This is not a game boy!” Ferdinand roared and hit the table with his fist.

“I have nothing to say. Do what you have to do. I will not endanger a family's life because of your paranoia.” I took one step forward, removed the seal and left it over the table. “I never saw my uncle in my life and never knew about him till this time. I have no reasons to believe that this is from him.”

“Is it your teddy bear or not?” Goran asked.

“Yes, it's mine. Now, give me back the key and paper because they are mine, not yours and I'm sick of your threats.”

“You have no idea of what we could do to you,” Ferdinand said menacingly.

“I was already in a torture séance, thank you. I survived it and said nothing. Can you tell the same, Ferdinand? Or are you just one of those desk officers? The only one who can speak here is Goran.”

Goran, to my surprise, chuckled, visibly amused. “It's true, Guntram. Not even the Duke was on the receiving end as we, little brother. Dähler is damn right, he calls you Dachs, badger because he says that even if you're midget size and frail, you have more teeth than a crocodile. Not many dare to insult us.”

“Or tell Repin to piss off,” Konrad smiled in an ironic way.

“Next time you address to me with such a tone, boy, I'll spank your bottom, so you learn manners!”

Ferdinand said partly sneering.

“We don't believe you are a traitor. If you were, you would have kept the things and used it against us.

You came to us not even an hour after you found it and that's all right, little brother,” Goran said and I looked at Konrad, totally abashed.

“Pick up your ring, Guntram,” he simply told me. “Tomorrow you will go to Geneva and open that safe box with Goran. Of course you can keep the painting or the gold, but we will keep any document in there. We will also investigate who opened it and you will not interfere any longer. Is that clear?”

“No, Konrad, I can't let you hurt any member from my family!”

“We are your family, Guntram. They abandoned you in 1989 and now they are only trying to use you to attack us. They never cared about you before and now, they come with golden presents and love when you became my consort? You can keep the toy as it was a gift from an honourable man. Perhaps your father even saved that money for you and asked Roger to give it to you but he kept it who knows why.” Konrad rose from his chair, circled the table and embraced me and kissed me on the forehead in front of the other two. I felt very uncomfortable, but they said nothing or made any gestures. “You can breathe again, Guntram,” he joked with me but two seconds later he said:

“you must always inform everything. We don't like leaks of any kind or from anyone.”

“Konrad, whoever is this person, is my only family left. Perhaps is someone from the Guttenberg Sachsen because both things belonged to my grandmother.”

“The Guttenberg Sachsen have no problems with us. In fact, we buy wine from them and finance several of their ventures. If they would like to approach you, they can do it at their convenience. If you want to meet them, I can introduce you to the old Udo Guttenberg Sachsen; he's the patriarch and would be delighted to meet you. You are a member of the Lintorff family.”

“Like I, for example,” Ferdinand told me. “You're invited to all their Christmas parties and one day you find yourself fighting with your two sons over a hard gingerbread cookie and you realise that your youth is over.”

“They're not that bad, Ferdinand. You can go now Guntram. Friederich will call you for dinner.”

I was dismissed like a child and here I'm writing before dinner. Probably tomorrow I will have to travel with Goran to Geneva.

“Do you believe him, Konrad?” Ferdinand asked.

“Of course, he came to us. Knowing him like I do, he was thinking that he was protecting the snake from us, then he was afraid for not telling us about it, but didn't know how to get out of the mess and finally exploded when he saw it back, probably thinking this is a threat from Repin.”

“I have checked all his materials, friends and movements for a long time and he has no contact with him or ever had,” Goran said

“Investigate all what you can over that account. I was expecting him to make a move over Guntram.

Execute him on sight, is that understood?”

“Very well, my Duke.”

No matter how many times Goran had tried to reassure Guntram in the car, the young man was more nervous than ever. It was a mix of longing, fear of what he might find inside and desire to see it. His growing concern over his uncle's fate also weighed on his soul. Goran had told him countless times that there was nothing to be worried about because he believed in his innocence, although he had been somewhat sneaky and little forthcoming in Rome;

“don't you ever do something so stupid and much less for people who cares nothing for you!” The recommendations were very simple; “You can touch the jewels, the gold and the painting. The rest of the papers will be examined by us first and then given to you. We don't want any more leaks or troubles.”

The Serb parked in a garage and led Guntram through many small streets they reached an old stylish building in a quiet area. The huge and imposing archway made the youth lose the little courage he had left and he stood there, almost refusing to enter.

“Come on, Guntram. Only Masons, nothing dangerous unless you have your money with them,” he pressed and almost dragged him inside the bank, toward the receptionist, a middle aged woman. Guntram stood, mute as before and Goran sighed irritated at the delay and waste of time.

“Good morning, Mr. de Lisle is here to check his safe box.”

“Yes, of course. May I see your identification cards, sirs, and the safe box's number, please?” she answered without flinching and Guntram gave her the paper and his passport, and Goran his Swiss ID card.

“Are you a Swiss resident Mr. de Lisle?” she asked.

“That's none of your bank's concern, Madam,” Goran replied very irked.

“Do you have your key with you, sir?”

“Yes, I do,” Guntram whispered.

“Would you like to go to the vault alone?” she asked with some emphasis in the last word, looking at him in the eyes.

“No, I'll go with Mr. Pavicevic.”

“Very well, Sir. Someone will accompany you soon.”

“Thank you, Madam,” Guntram whispered while she rose and left the place with their documents. “Why does she need to take all these precautions? Don't they check such things at the vault?”

“Normally, yes, but if you're the third in command of their main rival, they should be cautious. This is a very small institution. I wouldn't be surprised if Mornay, the CEO, comes by himself to open it.”

Some time later, after waiting in the foyer, Guntram entertained with the turn of the century chandelier and the Art Nouveau decoration and Goran in his own private war of looks with the two large security men who had come almost immediately, an old man came out of the elevator and approached Goran very warily.

“Good morning. My name is Charles de Mornay, I understand you must be the Vicomte de Marignac,”

he said, extending his hand to the boy and ignoring Goran on purpose.

“How do you do, sir? Guntram de Lisle, at your service,” the youth answered, shaking the banker's hand under the barely concealed look of contempt from Goran.

“You look very similar to your father. I met him many years ago. It was a great tragedy. Such a clever lawyer and good man.”

“Thank you very much,” Guntram whispered, starting to feel sick.

“Are you all right? You don't look well.”

“I have a heart condition, sir. Just a second, please.”

“I could accompany and stay with you, if you prefer it.”

“No, thank you. Mr. Pavicevic is a friend of mine. I asked him to accompany me today,” Guntram rejected the offer kindly.

“I assume you know where your loyalties lie, young man.”

“His loyalties are with his own kind, Mr. Mornay,” Goran interfered, throwing an assassin's glance at the old man.

“There are many doors opened for him beside your own, Mr. Pavicevic.”

“We existed long before you and we will continue to exist for many centuries more.”

“We will see. Follow me please, Vicomte.” The banker walked back to the offices, leaving the foyer and descending the grand marble stairs to the first underground. Another man was waiting for them and slightly bowed his head to the old banker. “Vicomte, this is Mr. Dubois and he is in charge of the vault. He will assist you in whatever you might need.”

Mornay left the room after saying good-bye to Guntram, ignoring Goran once more as the other did the same. The middle age clerk asked Guntram to sign some papers and show him his small key. “Ah, one of the oldest ones. I'll take you there.”

“What do you mean with one of the oldest?” Guntram asked truly puzzled.

“These ones are hired for thirty years. Rare nowadays, but it was usual to have one forty or fifty years ago. You pay in advance and it's yours for thirty years. You have one more year grace, but if you don't remove your items, they'll belong to the bank. It's on the conditions. Your contract expires on December 8th 2015. You should update your data or we will send the reminder to this address in Argentina.”

“Yes, of course,” Guntram answered, taking the card and pen the man had offered him and started to fill it with his address in Zurich.

“Have you ever been inside a vault? It can be a bit claustrophobic,” the man asked jovially.

“No, never,”

“Well, it's not so impressive as people think. It looks like the mail boxes room in the post office. We have to open it together. I will ask you your fingerprint for security reasons, sir. Just, touch this screen.” Guntram placed his right hand on the device. “Thank you. Now your companion and he have to sign also these papers.”

'Why do they want so much to get rid of me? My fingerprints? Do they think I'm an amateur booked by the police?' Goran pondered when he also signed and let his right hand be scanned. There was something very wrong in all their procedures, completely outdated and ridiculous.

Both men followed the old clerk through several corridors till they reached to a brightly illuminated room after passing a gate with iron bars as thick as a man's arm. The man inserted his key first and turned it around, asking Guntram to repeat the same and the box was liberated from its metal niche. The clerk took it and carried it with some effort to the aluminium table in the centre of the room. “Please, wait till I'm out to open it. It's a security precaution for you, sir,” he said and Goran looked at him very suspiciously. The man left the room in haste and closed the iron gate.

“This is it, Goran,” Guntram whispered, looking at the long, narrow, bronze colour shinning box. “I'm not sure if I should.”

“It's yours, you have to decide.”

“All right, I guess I should,” Guntram inserted once more his key and turned it to the right, easily opening it. He removed by complete the cover and inside were a large black leather tube, an old Chisties' catalogue from 1955, five small jewels boxes, one medium size box and a large blue metal box, along with a closed envelope, with his coat of arms and simply addressed to him with “Guntram” written in dark ink. He took the envelope and when he was going to open it, Goran removed it from his hands.

“Remember what we said about papers?”

“It's mine, Goran. It's a letter from my father. Give it back! I already know that the Order executed my own family. What could be more hideous than that?”

“No, Guntram. I'll check it first.”

“Do you really want that we fight here for a piece of paper? I swear I'll give you any documents in here, but the letter is mine.”

“You wouldn't last two seconds against me.”

“I can ask that you're removed from here. Now, give me my father's letter back. I will not repeat it.”

“As you wish,” Goran growled and returned the envelope to the incensed boy.

Guntram took the letter and broke the seal quickly looking inside and only finding one handwritten page that he got out. Very quickly, he closed the envelope before Goran would see that there was a small visit card inside too. “See? Only a letter. Can I have some privacy?”

December 7th, 1988

My dear Son,

I hope your life has been good and full of happiness these past twenty years. You were a true blessing for your mother and me. We were always very proud and considered ourselves fortunate that you would come into our lives. Alas, God had different plans for us and we couldn't be together. I always loved you, since the first moment I saw you sleeping in that crib at the hospital. The nurses let me hold you, and you opened your eyes and looked at me for a brief moment and I loved you with all my soul.

I've been diagnosed with cancer. There's not much to do now as it's in a well advanced stage. Surgery will only delay the inevitable for a few months and the result will be the same. I don't believe that I would be able to endure it and I prefer to decide my own fate. It's selfish from me to come back to you and die at your side, forcing you to share my pain and sorrow. The damage on your psyche would be much harder that if you're only informed of my disappearance. I can only promise that I would to my best to remain with you as long as I can.

I hope you have taken good care of Aloïs, but I believe you have renamed it Jacques. We all change names during our lifetimes. He was a good friend during my childhood and hopefully yours too. Perhaps, your children inherit him too.

In this box is all what I can leave you. Don't believe anything they tell you about me. I always did what I believed to be the best course of action. All my deeds were carefully meditated beforehand and I acted with the best intentions. I never wanted anything for myself and would give gladly my life for you, as you are my greatest treasure.

Live a long, happy and honest life. Love your brothers in this Earth and respect the commandments of our God. Pray that we would be all reunited in Heaven when our hour comes. I receive my death with joy and the firm conviction that it's for your best interest.

You were a wonderful Son for me and I'm very proud of you,

Jerôme de Lisle Guttenberg Sachsen

Guntram sighed after finishing his reading. He felt very sad and alone without his father. In an effort to suppress the tears he wanted to shed, he extended the letter to Goran with a “you can check it, now. He loved very much and I never knew it till now.”

“Little brother, keep it. I see this is personal. I will not read it. It was most rude of me to ask for it. Do you want to see the rest of your things? There are no documents here.”

Guntram was still too moved to speak so he only nodded and took the large box out. Inside were forty small gold bars in five hundred grams and fifty ounces of Platinum, all of them stamped with the Credit Suisse logo, and carefully organised inside the box, with tags specifying the number of them. “Do you have any idea of what is this, Goran?” he asked dumbfounded.

“Gold and platinum. Good as a saving method. The value is more or less stable and it's easy to trade without arising suspicions. At today's prices the gold should be around €300,000 and the platinum another €50,000.

Goran explained him.

“So much?”

“It's a good sum, but I believe the jewels and the painting are more valuable. Open the boxes.

“It looks like a topaz.” Guntram said at looking the first necklace with a shiny but opaque light brown gem in the middle of an array of small diamonds, accompanied of a bracelet and earrings.

“Boy, I will never take you shopping with me,” Goran snorted. “That's not a topaz! That is a very rare and very expensive yellow diamond! That monster must be around four carats!”

“And this one? It has a funny colour,” Guntram asked after opening the second box containing a necklace and matching earrings.

“Boy, you need urgently to spend a week or two in Amsterdam. That's a pink diamond! Give me one of those and I'll get an F-2!”

“I don't know! It's not my field of expertise!” Guntram protested while he opened the next two boxes containing two small animal brooches in each one of them. They were very delicate and Guntram liked them immediately, feeling that they were more than a simple ornament. “They're very nice, a panther, a lion, a giraffe and a bird.”

“You're hopeless. Can you look inside the boxes and read the tags? Even the papers are attached to them!” Goran whined in frustration.

“Fabergé? Was he also making jewels? I thought he was only into eggs.”

“You need to study more, Guntram. Really. If those are original and real, well, the price is very high.”

The boy opened the next large box and inside was a small crown with short and long alternated points ending in pearls

“I would say that is a viscount crown, very unusual to see one. I don't understand why your father had it if he was the middle child. It should have been in your Uncle Pascal's hands or your grandfather's,” Goran explained to Guntram, very disoriented. 'Was the man not killed in June 1989, just a month after the traitors were punished?'

Guntram placed it back reverently in its box and opened the last one, containing a big necklace with diamonds and emeralds from Harry Winston. He only cast a glance and closed the box quickly, too overwhelmed and took a deep breath before grabbing the large tube. “This should be the Bronzino Madonna. It was in my bedroom when I was a child and I always thought it was a copy. I guess I started to paint because I loved it.”

“Should I open it for you?”

“You have no gloves with you. I will not let you touch the paper with bare hands. It could be ruined,” the boy smiled to temper his words and Goran smiled at him. Guntram fished in his overcoat a pair of white gloves and put them on before removing he lid and very carefully getting the paper out. With great care, he unrolled the drawing and had to close the eyes when he recognised the familiar, soft, angelic face of a blonde woman with her rubicund baby, raising his hands toward her face. “Yes, it's her.”

“It's unearthly beautiful and human at the same time. Now, I know from where comes your style.”

“What should I do with all this?” Guntram asked, engulfed in a mixture of grief, surprise and bewilderment.

“I don't know. You must think about it at home. Do you want to take it with you? I think you can't leave the painting and the crown here.”

“You're right. I'll take the letter too. Perhaps some of the jewels too; the diamonds and the Fabergé with the certificates.

“You should ask for a valuation. Here, put them in my briefcase.” Goran

“Is it not dangerous to walk in the streets with all this?”

“Carrying nitro glycerine is dangerous, Guntram. Carrying a bag full of diamonds in a war zone is dangerous. I'll take it and we leave everything in the car before we go for lunch.”

“Yes, I could eat,” Guntram smiled weakly as he put his father's letter in his own jacket's pocket and not into Goran's briefcase as it had been the Serb's idea. He helped the man with the boxes and the tube. “Should we take the catalogue too?”

“Yes, but any good house will repeat the procedure to identify and certify the work. It's customary.”

“I'm not going to sell it! I want to keep it with me. I thought it was lost when my father's flat in Buenos Aires was sold.”

“What happened to his money?”

“In my account for my school expenses. I don't remember how much money was it, but the school fees were very high. According to my lawyer what he left me plus the flat was barely enough to pay for the school, but not enough for the University and I should work. I had a capital of $50,000, but after the Argentinean government seized everything, it turned out to be $14,000, frozen in an account. My lawyer used part of the money to pay the notary to write the documents to return the flat Constantin gave in 2003. I thought it was wrong from me to keep it and the Duke agreed with me. Do you know that governments tax you even if you're donating something? Almost one percent of the fiscal value. Abusive.”

Goran said nothing but somehow Guntram's answer raised all his alarms. His father had many millions before his death and had only left enough money as to pay for some years of his child's support? And now in a box, allegedly meant to be opened after his 25th Anniversary were almost two million dollars in jewels and gold? That painting could be worth almost a million. Strange, very strange. Perhaps the lawyer in Argentina had taken some of the money, but not to that point. He would investigate all this as there were many loose ends for his taste.

Guntram de Lisle's diary

December 2nd, 2005

I'm studying at full pace as I have my tests on December 10th to 12th in London. I'll fly with Heindrik there and stay at Konrad's house in Kensington. I have ready all my presentations and Ostermann checked them first and said they're good. Three subjects, this time and if I pass them, I will have completed my second year of the BA.

I'm nervous but confident. I've made my practices with Konrad's furniture here and even the famous Lions Service from Meissen could be photographed in detail and serve as model for a presentation. Friederich had a hard time, but he agreed to let me do it. I guess it was a compensation for making me “baby sit” Armin and Marie Amélie for the past month. Those two are something serious and hot. Two days ago, I caught them in the act under the table. Yes, exactly. She was giving him a “foot job” under the huge oak table in the daily dinning room while she put her more serious face pretending to be studying Statistics. Had I not dropped two of my pencils, I would have never realised what they were doing. I blushed like a tomato and left the room. It's difficult to study with them around. Fortunately, they only come twice per week and on Saturdays.

I left all the jewels from my father at Konrad's bank. I don't know what to do with them. They're gathering dust after they were catalogued and appraised. I prefer to leave the gold where it's. I don't want to drive once again with all those things in a trunk.

The visit card inside the letter was very strange. Only a name; Michel Lacroix and a mailbox address in Brussels. I read it in the toilet of the restaurant we went with Goran and wrote down the address in my sketch pad. I destroyed it because I don't want anything that could lead them to my uncle or whoever is in league with Constantin. I wrote him a letter and asked Ostermann to post it for me when he was going out. He complained a lot even if I had already glued the stamps! He will be furious when he sees that my contact address is his studio. I would like to know someone who knew my father besides Nicholas Lefèbre. I told nothing to Konrad and I feel bad for it, but I think it's for the best. If he writes me back, fine. I'll see what to do. If he never answers me, then I will forget the thing.