Into the Lion's Den (21 page)

“Don't misunderstand me, I like him also, but perhaps he feels bad to baby sit a boy.”

“Guntram, you're very important to me. I want the best looking after you. I have a good position and
you never know when your enemies may attack you or people would try to get money out of you.”

“It's just I feel bad to make him stand in a Museum or walking in the cold to go to visit something. He
has never complained or anything, in fact, he's very polite to me and was a great help in Italy but he's my elder and I
feel like he has to be under me.”

“Nothing more, far from it, my angel!” Constantin laughed at me. “Massaiev will put you in your place
if you do something that displeases him. Once you start school, he will return to his normal occupations and Yuri
Rimsky will stay with you for the normal things like drive you there. Now, let me work. Go and sit over there, or I'll
start to ravish you.”

I sat far away from him as he opened his laptop and dived into his work. He can easily read many of this
pipelines or something like that projects. I took “Le Figaró” and I started to browse the newspaper, uninterested,
looking for news about Argentina, but there was nothing. I guess the thrill was over. I read the film and books reviews
and when I was going to leave it, I saw a small inset telling about two Chinese Exchange Students missing for the past
five days when they left their house in Chartres to go to Paris. Their families were flying from Shanghai for the search
and I thought on the two Japanese girls. Tourist women are truly vulnerable; they were after me, a simple idiot,
looking to try the “hot French man” experience (!) but what could happen to you, in a foreign country if you tamper
with the wrong people? They were nearly offering themselves to Constantin and me! What if I were a psycho? What
were they thinking? Strangers are not nice by definition. Norman Bates was a regular looking guy; polite and hard-working and he was chopping naked girls on the shower and blaming it on his dead mother. On top, there were idiots
staying at his hotel for parts II and III. People should try to find out more before trusting a total stranger.

Chapter 9

September 7th, 2002

St. Petersburg

The meeting had been utterly frustrating for Constantin, with the rising challenges to his authority in his own internal front. The new Russian government wanted to recover the spaces lost over the past decade and they were pressing more than ever before, driving many of his underlings into panic, pressing him to look for new markets in Europe.

“I don't trust Morozov any longer, Ivan Ivanovich.”

“He met with Lintorff in Frankfurt two weeks ago.” Oblomov replied.

“I know, Lintorff informed me a week ago. He refused to help Morozov. I still don't know why he kept our agreement when he could easily throw me out.”

“Lintorff respects you and prefers you to anyone else. You helped him to control the situation with the Colombians. You both respect your territories since 1987 and he has been a great financial advisor to you.”

“Don't forget to mention that I cleaned everything after many of his little lambs revolted against him in 1989 or when some of his customers are troublesome or don't want to contribute. One hand washes the other, Ivan.”

“What should we do about him?”

“Getting rid of him might be problematic. He controls the entrances to Moscow and a war in that particular place would attract too much attention from the authorities.”

“He wants to get rid of you and the others will follow him if they think they could get something out. It's going to be total war in any case.”

“Most probably, but I don't want the Order in the middle of our wars. If they participate, Lintorff will keep all Central Europe to himself. We have to wait till Morozov makes a mistake and then, chop off his head.”

“That rat knows about the pact and will try to make you break it. What if he forces Lintorff to fight with you?”

“Konrad is not an idiot. He knows me well.”

“What if he tells him that you are having an affair with the grandchild of one of the men who tried to kill him or better, the one who killed the old Pavicevic? He would explode and we all know he's crazy when it comes to betrayals. Didn't he kill the whole de Lisle family? Up to the children? Guntram saved his ass because his father was clever enough as to keep him away and hide him in Argentina, without luxuries or anything.”

“Along with sixteen lines more, Ivan Ivanovich. Perhaps Lintorff was never interested in the boy. After all he was only seven years old.”

“His cousins were also young and he's still after the surviving uncle. The minute he catches him, he will impale him. Mark my words, Constantin.”

“Guntram poses no threat to anyone.”

“Lintorff paranoia is galactic size. If I were him, I would get the boy just to vent the frustration of not getting the uncle in more than thirteen years or just to make him come out of whichever hole he's in.”

“This is why I keep Guntram away from him. Besides, Konrad wouldn't waste his time or risk to fight with me just because of him. He's no threat at all; knows nothing and prefers to keep distance from the Order.”

“Boss, he wears a golden Crenel Cross. Only the top members have it.”

“His father gave it to him and he thinks it's his baptism souvenir. He has no idea of what the Order is, so leave him alone.”

“If Morozov opens his big mouth, Lintorff will charge against us like a raging bull.”

“Morozov will not come with stories because he's not aware of who Guntram is. Morozov is just a gangster from a slum with too much power in his hands, looking for more. Nothing else. I would be more concerned that he attacks Lintorff and places the blame on me. Keep a close eye on him.”

“All right, boss.”

Constantin couldn't wait any longer to return to London, to his angel. Not even seeing Sofia, Constantin and Vladimir were enough reward to keep him away from Guntram. The three summer weeks the boy had spent in Argentina, fixing his papers and visiting his friends, had been a slow torture for him. 'One week more and I'll be at home. I can't stand any longer his absence,' he thought, lost in the memory of the youth jumping to his neck every time he saw him, with true happiness in his eyes or when he was showing his works or paints. His last oils were really good and he was always improving himself, working very hard, even he was telling that it was no work at all and insisted on wasting his time in that miserable Antiquity Shop at Portobello Market for four hundred pounds per month.

'All the money he makes selling his works with Robinson is used to pay his schooling or given it to those miserable people in Argentina. Finding him was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Seeing him only two weeks or less per month is insufficient. The minute he finishes school, I'll take him along with me.'

The man opened his laptop to check if he had an e-mail from Guntram and there was one, with two attachments.

“My dearest friend, I hope you're fine wherever you are. I miss you and wish to have you by my side. I'm
sending you two photos of some cat studies. I saw them in the park and found them very cute. Perhaps, I'll do
something with them later or perhaps not. I'm still fighting with my last series. Mr. Robinson says I shouldn't be
concerned about my teacher's opinions and continue to do what I like best, but I don't know, perhaps my classmates
are right and I'm too dull and boring. With love, your friend, Guntram”

'They say it because no one would give more than ten pounds for their rubbish.' Constantin thought as he downloaded the files. He was fascinated by the two cats fighting, stretching, sleeping or playing.

His studio door was opened violently, but his hand was already on the trigger of a 9 mm, hidden under his desk. He fought against the desire to use it when he saw that his visitor was his wife, Olga Fedorovna, already looking furiously at him.

“How dare you? Get him out! Tomorrow!”

“If you don't like your new security arrangements, you might well stay at home and save me some money, Olga. The man stays.”

“Don't play with me Constantin! I'm sick of your games! Get the little whore you have in London out of my house!”

“I have no whore except you at the moment! A useless, old and expensive one on top!” Constantin roared, enraged by the fact she had chosen that particular moment to rant about Guntram.

“You have the nerve to put him in my house at Ilchester Place. Get him out! I will not let you humiliate me in front of all my friends!”

“What I do with him is none of your concern, Olga.”

“That you fuck around is a very well-known fact and I have turned a blind eye for many years but this is too much! I ordered Dimitri to make the house ready for me and he simply told me that you should order it!”

“Of course, those are my orders. If you want to stay in London, you have a brand new flat in Belgravia.”

“I will not stay in a flea infested flat! When you bought that house it meant that we were going to go to London for a few months in the year. First, you told me that it needed a renovation, then that you were only staying there briefly and now, you have a whore living permanently there since December 2001! That place cost more than fifty million pounds!”

“Exactly. I bought the house, with my own money so it belongs entirely to me. I was gracious enough as to get you an alternate lodging should you dislike hotels. It's mine and Guntram lives there by my wish.”

“You pay for his schooling, have granted him a scholarship in our Foundation, pay for his clothes and food!”

“The same I do for you—without the schooling of course—but he's cheaper than you and a thousand times more satisfying. He makes me very happy. Now, go away as I have to work.”

“I'll divorce you for this!”

“Be my guest. It will only cost me two hundred million. I have wanted to get rid of you since many years. Take your bastard and go.”

“I will not let you have the children!”

“I will not let you take Sofia, Constantin or Vladimir away. The smallest one is yours. He can visit his brothers whenever he wants.”

“I will not tolerate your ways any longer!”

“Stop whining Olga. I said nothing about Stephanov. Have your adventure with him and leave me alone!”

“You bought a $300,000 dollars flat for him!”

“Yes, that's my anniversary present; something small for the first year.”

“Send him there!”

“It's far away. In Buenos Aires. You see, my neighbour, the one from the twelfth floor wanted to sell and I thought that maybe Guntram would like to have a
pied à terre
when he visits the city. Part of the collection I bought in Argentina, will go there.”

“It's a lot of money!”

“I said nothing when you bought that villa in Marbella for that man, in front of many of my business associates.” Constantin retorted dryly. “Listen to me well, Olga Fedorovna because I will not repeat myself. The house at Ilchester Place is off limits for you. Sleep at Buckingham Palace if you have to! Leave Guntram alone. If you come near him or disturb him in any way, you will know another side of me.”

“The men laugh at you because you're a faggot! A faggot running after a silly little boy! How do you expect that they respect you if you're such a ridiculous old man?” she spat the words.

“They will not follow a whore either. A gay is a hundred times preferable than a woman. Don't go against me, whore. I know how to treat your kind.”

“You'll cry and hide behind Ivan Ivanovich.”

“You're warned. Don't bother Guntram or go against me.”

“My father could hold the men much better. Remember that if you were accepted into our society despite being the product of a decadent woman and a stupid party member, it was because of my father.”

“The Soviet Union collapsed in 1989 and my decadent roots allowed me to form alliances with the decadent capitalists you love to suck and buy from. My stupid father controlled the Caucasus while your father was shaking his tail to Gorbachov. We were smuggling all what you desired to have during the “real socialism” times, do you remember? The USSR is dead my dear wife. You're useless now. I have my children and my position well secured. No one cares any longer who I fuck and no one is so stupid as to challenge me for that.”

“We'll see what the men have to say about this.”

“That Guntram is discreet, polite and totally out of their way? Oblomov and Malchenko like him very much. Strepovich, Baragan and Raditsky bought some of his paintings unaware that he was my lover and they also like him. Baragan asked him to do a portrait of his wife. No one has a problem with Guntram because he doesn't try to influence me or gain power. My five most powerful warlords accept him and I suspect they are glad that he's around because “I'm more easy to speak with,” according to Strepovich.

“This will not end like this, Constantin Ivanovich!”

“It can end any way you want, happily or badly for you; your choice. Now, get out!”

Olga Fedorovna slammed the door leaving the house more furious than ever. Constantin sighed and checked his watch. Time to tell the little monsters a story and put them to bed. He had had enough for one day.

Chapter 10
Guntram de Lisle's Diary

October 20th, 2002

Yesterday was my birthday and now I'm officially twenty years old. As Constantin is away on business—I
can't help to remember how we spend together my previous birthday—I went out with some of the guys from the art
class, Peter Steenburg, Clarissa Adams and Mary Higgs. I have a good relationship with them because they are the
only ones who don't laugh at me. I'm not very popular with Mr. Southern's class. My style is too old compared to what
all of them do. I'm also too young and most of them have already finished their MAs and I'm on the first year of the
BA. They went to St. Martin's—one of the best worldwide—and I study Art History. No wonder that I got the “posh
boy” nickname. I try to do my best to dress normally, without bespoken jackets or expensive brands when Constantin
is away, but the other days I have to make the bloody parade. I completely hate it. I draw very figuratively, nothing
abstract, almost like a hyperrealist and truly don't understand what they're doing. I get many negative critics from
them. OK, last time, it was my fault but telling me that I should paint for the “Sarah Kay” series was too much. I was
very vulgar with my “try to draw something more than stick figures, copy something classical if you can, and then,
criticise my work.” Also having a contract with Robertson's Gallery, one of the most exclusive in London, irks them
very much. Mr. Robertson's, a very old and kind man, the one who bought my first series, likes my work very much
and sells it mostly to private collectors or companies. Yeah, I'm the type of artist whose work is worth to be hung in a
hotel lobby or in a bank's meetings room or you can give to your grandmother for her birthday.