Into the Lion's Den (46 page)

“No!”

“Fix the problem with your wife, Ferdinand. Relax, I'm not going to name him or anything like that. I should be certain of my future actions. I will only speak with Löwenstein, and if he agrees, then, I might proceed.

Konrad hang up the phone before Ferdinand could explode as he was usually doing every time they had a disagreement for the past thirty-five years. His mind returned at once to what had been nagging him since coffee; the good time Guntram and Antonov seemed to be having. 'He likes Russians and Alexei Gregorevich wouldn't say no, if I know him a bit. Time to put an end to whatever those two have been doing.'

Guntram was feeling something akin to happiness in a long time, more than he could remember. First Alexei had taken him to watch a cartoon, “
Monsters Inc.”
and he was able to control his panic in the theatre, in the shopping mall and later in the McDonalds. He had been very surprised that the normally very stern Russian was so funny, enjoying the film like a child and then, joking with him or going to a place full with noisy teenagers—his size was enough to convince several boys pushing each other of the benefits of respecting the line—and telling him “don't worry I know CPR. No Friday evening is a funny one if you don't visit the E.R.”

The Russian was funny indeed and was nothing like the former KGBs he had met in Constantin's house.

He had told him about his time in Afghanistan or his many travels around the former USSR.

While Konrad was standing in front of Guntram's bedroom's door his hand ready to knock, he heard the boy laughing loudly.

“Do you think this is the right position, Alexei? I don't remember something like this.”

“There's always a first time, Guntram.”

“It's large, no doubt about it.”

“Big or burst. That's what we always say back home.” Konrad heard Alexei's deep voice chuckling. 'I'll kill him if he has touched the boy. So that was his revenge; fuck Repin's favourite boy!' he thought before his hand froze in mid air when the boy laughed: “Who knew that there could be so much fun in a banana!”

Konrad opened the door to find the boy in pyjamas, under the covers and Alexei sitting by him—on the chair, with all his clothes on, including shoes—and something like a scrabble board in front of them with an empty case looking like a banana. Antonov jumped to attention while Guntram did his best to stabilize the board and the letters.

“Good evening, Gentlemen,” he said eating his own fury at his own stupid mistake.

“Good evening, Duke,” both answered in unison.

“It's more than one in the morning, Antonov. De Lisle should be resting now.”

“Yes Sire, Good night Sire.” The Russian left the room very quickly while Guntram gathered the small stones and placed them back in the strange looking case, still smiling at himself.

“What were you doing tonight?” Konrad barked, making the boy flinch.

“We were playing bananagrams, Konrad. I couldn't sleep and Mr. Antonov suggested playing this game.”

“And before?”

“We went to the cinema and later to have dinner, sir. We returned at eleven.”

“Good. Go to bed now. It's late for you.”

I was not expecting it at all.”

'Letting you out. I'll certainly have some words with that man. I specifically ordered him to keep the boy away from me tonight! Not walking him around!'

“I never thought I could be again inside a movie theatre, Konrad. Thank you,” Guntram whispered, washing away the older man's fury. “It's as you said; I'm starting to feel better here than in St. Petersburg.”

“I'm glad you feel comfortable around your own people. I didn't lie when I said that you were now a part of my family, as your father wanted,” Konrad intoned, deciding to cash some points for his own account and drop the killing for the morning.

“Will you tell me what happened in 1989?”

“Yes, but not now. It's not a happy story for either side, Guntram.”

“I understand.”

“When you're feeling much better. There's no rush. We have a lot of time in front of us.”

“Good night, Konrad.”

“Good night, Guntram.”

Chapter 18

Thursday. April 8th, 2004

Although the temperature was becoming warmer and warmer, April was cold and the springtime elusive, Goran was glad that he was out of the office early. He felt trapped among the boisserie panels, heavy furniture and carpets. It wasn't his environment at all. He preferred the forest and the fields; the smell of the wet earth to the expensive perfumes the women favoured. He was a hunter not a courtesan; nothing could be compared to the thrill of the hunting, of lying in wait over the ground at dawn.

Leaning against the big black car in the small and quiet street was a hundred times better than wasting his time with an associate or subordinate unable to understand a simple command. At least Michael Dähler had been an excellent asset as strategy advisor and tomorrow's meeting was going to be a tough one with several associates furious for the loss of 4.8 billion and many more in contracts in the former Soviet Union. The news about Guntram had reached them—bloody gossiping women and stupid von Kleist—and they wanted to trade him for a better relation with Repin, and 'come to me crying when the Russian takes all their money and kills their children. They never learn; the Duke is right. The only way to control Repin is to have something he really cares about. I will not let that monster have my little brother again. God gave me a chance to redeem myself and I will not waste it. I hope the Duke gives me soon the order to terminate that woman.'

“Hi, Goran! I didn't expect you to see here!” the voice of Guntram interrupted his musings. The Serb was surprised that the boy was smiling at him with true happiness shining in his eyes. 'When was the last time someone was happy to see me? Only when Pavel was here.'

“Hello Guntram, I see you're much better than when you came here.” He said as he carefully evaluated the boy standing in front of him. How was he able to approach him without being noticed? The month in the castle has been certainly good for him as Guntram's ashy complexion had been replaced by a rosier one and his eyes were not showing a deep terror and mistrust to everyone coming next to him. 'Antonov did a good job with him.'

“I feel much better, Goran. I can't run a triathlon, but the new medications are much better for me. I was in the movies twice already and in restaurants.”

“Yes, I've heard about your escapade with Antonov to the Burger King.”

“I had a salad and no fries,” Guntram defended himself. “Besides, Friederich scolded me already.”

“I'm driving you home today. Antonov had to leave the country for a few weeks. I need him in Central Asia. You will get another bodyguard from tomorrow onwards,” Goran said while he got into his car, followed by Guntram. He started the engine and casually asked; “how's everything between you and the Duke?”

“Fine. I keep myself quiet and scarce and there are no problems between us.”

“He told me he was satisfied with your behaviour.”

“I do my best to avoid clashing with him, but sometimes I would like to break something in his head,”

Guntram said and heard the Serb chuckle.

“Get in line, boy. There are many in front of you. Does he treat you well?”

“Yes, he's very polite to me. He treats me as a member of his family according to him but he's very stern.

He checks that I do all my school assignments, work at the studio with Ostermann and study. He even inspects my drawings. What can he know about art? Does he count how many sheets I use or if I paint out of the square?”

“He knows much more than you think, Guntram. He never tells it, but he knows, believe me. Oblomov bet with him that he could not identify a painting from you when he had only seen that children's portrait or his wife's, and he got it right in less than five seconds.”

“He's very intelligent and well educated. His conversation when he has guests is impressive. How many languages does he speak?”

“Five or six. Let me see, German, English, French, Italian, Russian, some Mandarin and can swear in Serb. Good knowledge of Latin too, but that's Friederich's doing.”

“When did he learn all that? At night he's only reading his papers and documents.”

“Private teachers since infancy and a very stern father. He can't tolerate laziness. What he demands from the others, he demands to himself first.”

“I believe you,” Guntram sighed as he remembered how he had been questioned on London Georgian Architecture two nights ago and the reprimand earned for ignoring the trade routes from India and the Antilles. “I passed a test a few days ago but he asked things that were not in the program. I got four books more to read and probably study before next Sunday. He should have been a School Principal, not banker.”

“Art and History together, the subjects he loves most. You're dead Guntram. He will bury you under his books or get you new ones.”

“I thought it was Economics or business.”

“That's working. It's a different story. The Duke appreciates you. You're not what he was expecting.”

“He's also not, well, he's not all the things they told me about him. What did he think about me if he didn't know me?”

“You were Repin's boyfriend. You should be a whimsical, good for nothing plaything,” the Serb shrugged and Guntram blushed from fury.

“Yeah, he already called me “expensive rent boy”, but he apologised later. I was never Constantin's toy! I don't want to be one. The only thing I want is to get away and live my life away from all of you. I never asked to come here, to destroy a man's marriage or become a hostage.”

“Don't be so upset. It's bad for you. I don't believe you were such things. He truly appreciates you and wants to protect you from Repin. Once the year is over, he will take you back and it will be the same as before or worse as his paranoia will be unleashed. The Duke “robbed” you once and knows that you're his weakest point.”

“I know but perhaps he forgets me,” Guntram said desperately. “I don't want to be put in a beautiful house with a guard or be his doll.”

“Don't count on it. Your only chance to leave Repin is to stay and become one of us. The Duke will back you up, but you have to be his friend too,” Goran said very softly and concentrated on the driving while Guntram thought on his words, his gaze lost in the countryside.

Guntram kept silent for the rest of the trip and when he got out of the car parked in the courtyard, a bodyguard rushed toward them. “One moment,” Goran said and took two large rectangular leather cases from the trunk. “Come Guntram, I have to leave this at the meeting room for tomorrow.”

“Do you need help?”

“No, you can look but you can't touch,” Goran cracked a smile. “Only the
Hochmeister
or the
Summus
Marescalus
. I'll show you. They're impressive pieces. Follow me.”

Guntram trailed after Goran with big eyes as he passed the wings the boy normally was allowed to visit and directed himself to the south wing, where was the big ball room and another one always closed. He was surprised to see Friederich and many butlers and security personnel in the area when only the maids were dusting twice per week.

“Everything is ready, Mr. Pavicevic,” Friederich announced.

“Excellent, Mr. Elsässer. Thank you very much.”

“Should Guntram be…?”

“The Duke has allowed it. It's time Guntram understands what it means to be one of us,” Goran said and took the keys from Friederich's hands. “Follow me; you'll see the Hall of Knights. It shares its walls with the Chapel.

This room is only opened for this meeting and can't be used for something that it's not related to the Order.”

“I see.”

Guntram was ushered into a large hall some twenty metres long and seven metres wide decorated with a marble floor, with portraits hanging from white Spartan walls and several long tables forming an U in front of an elevated platform with a old, solid wood table and ten chairs, one bigger than the others and only a painted crucifix on that wall.

“The largest chair belongs to the Griffin, the Duke and the one at his right to the
Magnus Commendator
and the one in the left to the
Summus Marescalus
and seven councillors more, three from the past
Hochmeister
and four new. They are the ones who make all recommendations. The Crucifix was made by Cimabue and it was a gift from the first consort to the founder Theodobald von Lintorff, I don't remember his name but he was responsible for most of the alliances forged at the XVII century. It's a treasure for us, made in 1260 as an early study for the one hanging in Santa Maria Maggiore. It's much smaller than the final version but I believe it shows the same devotion as that one,” Goran said to a shocked Guntram while he placed the two large cases. “On the tables sit the associates or members. We had to forgo of the word knight because there are not many noblemen left. I would say that sixty-five percent of them are bourgeoisie that jumped in after War World Two.”

He opened the boxes and presented two long swords laying on the interior velveted cases. One was looking very old and the large handle formed a crucifix while the other had the handle like an inverted moon.

Guntram swallowed hard as he recognised the weapons from the horror stories the Russians used to tell him.

“It's a two handed iron sword. Used by the Spanish Inquisition for beheading. Nowadays is a ceremonial sword and belongs to the Griffin. There's another original at the Royal Arms Museum in Madrid. Mine is a contemporary design based on the
Tizona
. I thought it was appropriate to keep the Spanish flare to all as we are a team. For practice we use normal foils, épées or sabres. These two are kept in the bank's vault and only come out for the general meeting,” Goran explained to him, noticing how pale the boy was now.

“I've heard stories about this sword,” Guntram said with a raspy voice as he could not remove his eyes from the Christ in the handle. “It's exactly as it was described.”

“Russians have a vivid imagination and don't forget that Malchenko, Repin's cousin, is a member too.