Into the Lion's Den (69 page)

“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?”