Into the Lion's Den (31 page)

'That sounds more like a ruined Dali,' Konrad briefly thought as his hand indicated where she should sit.

“I confess that I'm intrigued about your visit, Olga Fedorovna.”

“I need your help, Duke. My life is at stake.”

'It's more than a painting, must be something really good,' Konrad considered and kept himself silent as he had the upper hand.

“My husband and I are at odds since a long time, Duke. He plans to assassinate me so he can freely lead the kind of lifestyle he likes so much. He knows that in case of divorce, he would lose our children's custody for his blatant homosexuality.”

'With women like you, I'm not surprised he prefers boys. I also do, but the best is to keep everyone away as the minute they're in your bed, the trouble starts. All of them want something from you. Repin is going to learn that lesson now.'

“Do you have any proofs of your accusations, Madam?”

“Of course not! But it's a very strong rumour!”

“With all due respect, Constantin's dalliances are well known in our circles. He's not exactly discreet about them.” 'The man has a flawless taste, in my opinion. Pity, you can't touch them. That Massaiev is a really good handler.'

“I'm willing to reach an agreement with you, Duke.” She offered very seriously. “Vital information on Constantin's deals in the Caucasus in exchange for your protection.”

“I will have to refuse, Madam. I have an agreement with your husband. A non-aggression pact since 1989. We might have our disputes over some minor issues, but we always solve them on the negotiation table.”

“Information about the Chechen rebels: all of it, names, ranks, families, locations. Everything.”

“That could be more useful to the Russian Authorities than to me, Madam.”

“Constantin ordered the assassination of your representative in Georgia.”

“Can you prove your allegations, Madam?”

“The man who gave the order, Morozov told me he did it by his orders.”

“I see.”

“Then, do I have your protection?”

“No, I'm not interested to get in the middle of a couple's fight. Divorces are truly a bad experience for all the people involved.” Konrad answered with the same impassivity that he had greeted her. “What would I do with such information? Nothing. It's useless for me as I can't be sure that the new leaders would be good friends to the Order as your husband is. Morozov is too greedy to be reliable.”

“If you send me back, he will kill me,” she said very agitated. “Would you have a woman's blood on your hands?”

“I don't think your husband would do something so rash. A good divorce agreement is always better than having the police investigating why your wife is dead. Perhaps the conditions have worsened for you now, but I do not fear for your life. It's perfectly safe. Are you not the mother of all his children?” Konrad replied very innocently. 'At least of the three first because that mop of blond hairs from the smallest one is very suspicious.'

“Have you no chivalry? I'm completely alone,” she asked with her eyes veiled with tears, perfectly aware that that was his weak point. Men like him, so bent into their old ways were always easy to manipulate if a woman knew how to show her vulnerability.

'Exactly as Medusa,' the Duke thought before feigning some remorse and doubts. “Madam, I would love to help you, but I'm afraid that this would lead us to a full scale war between our organizations.”

“Please, my Duke. I beg you,” she said, starting to weep loudly, the tremors shaking her slender body.

'Don't you dare to sully my grandfather's desk, you tart! Bismark used it!' He got his handkerchief out of his pocket in an attempt to save his desk before the tears could affect the wood, offering it to her. “Perhaps I could help you to improve your position, Madam.” 'A small grenade in the enemy's field is always welcomed.'

“My Duke, you don't know him. He's ruthless and heartless. I'm useless to him now!”

“Perhaps I could use that information you offered me as you have confirmed my initial impression that Morozov was behind all this. In exchange I could give you a small account number your husband has in Luxembourg by one of our associates. Bank secrecy can be lifted in case of tax fraud or arms trafficking. Petrom has been very creative in its past tax declarations, Madam.”

“Please, sir, you're perfectly aware that I have no chances against him!”

“As I said, we have an agreement. He has not broken it and I will continue to honour it. This is an internal affair and I do not wish to be involved.”

“He broke the agreement the moment he ordered your man's murder!”

“Those were Morozov's orders as you said. The link of his actions to your husband remains unclear. This is my best offer, Madam.” Konrad finished the conversation as the meeting was taking longer than necessary and tomorrow he had to take his plane at 7 a.m. to be in Frankfurt at 10:15 at the ECB.

“What guarantees do I have of your word, Duke?”

'Typical answer from a
parvenu
, at least Constantin has some class.' “I'll show you the files and documents. It's all on a memory card. Exactly like in the school when we were exchanging trading cards.”

Olga doubted for a few minutes; letting Lintorff take just a glimpse of the information was a huge risk.

Everybody knew that he was a traitorous snake with incredible intelligence. Only a few were safe from his machinations. Constantin feared him and a war with him like the one Morozov had started was his greatest nightmare.

She silently extended a small memory stick and he only muttered a “thank you,” throwing it in one of his drawers to her astonishment.

“If you'd excuse me Madam, I'll look for your safeguard. One of my men will drive you back to Zürich, I insist on this,” Konrad said, rising from his chair and leaving the room, not waiting for her permission.

Some minutes later, he returned carrying a small laptop and the slim memory card. “Of course I don't have to tell you that I will keep a copy of these files, Madam.”

“I was expecting it, Duke,” she said disdainfully as she checked the contents, finding more than 2.7

billion euros hidden there. She had to do her best to keep her fury controlled at the sneaky bastard. He was preparing his escape because it was not his habit to have so much cash. 'He's more than obsessed with his little whore. I hope Volodia has killed him off.'

“Very well, Duke. I thank you.”

“We could escort you to a neutral territory. From there you could negotiate better with your husband.”

“I was under the impression you didn't want to be involved,” she couldn't help to retort bitterly.

“I will not be involved. We will help you to reach neutral grounds, like Buenos Aires for example, I have several properties there. Perhaps you prefer something warmer like Rio de Janeiro or Montevideo, a small but charming city. I was there once, for business, of course. I should travel for leisure more.”

“I'll go to Rio, Duke.” Olga decided as from there she could easily go to her friends in Mexico.

“Perfect, my car will take you to the airport. I'm afraid that you will have to take a morning flight.

Farewell, Madam.”

“Good-bye, sir,” she said, furious at the man casting her out so brutally. But it was to be expected. Maria Ivanovna had been with him once after a charity party in Berlin and he had taken her to a hotel for the most boring night in her life. He looked so well but in bed he was the dullest man she had ever known. “Do you remember that golden android from the 70's Olga Fedorovna? More or less like that! He doesn't kiss you, just throws you over the bed and does what he needs to do to achieve his release. You can have a deeper relationship with a dildo than with him. An iceman, a total waste in my opinion. Three times, each one worse than the previous. I hope he never calls me back.” At least, he had a decent taste because he had sent her a panther brooch from Van Cleef and Arpels. A classical model.

“What can you tell us, Boris?”

“I'm no doctor. I think you should speak with one of them,” Malchenko did his best to evade the answer his cousin was looking for.

“What happened? This you can answer!” Constantin almost barked while he paced in the hospital's corridor.

“We received a distress signal from Guntram in your house. First we hesitated, but as I couldn't contact any of his bodyguards, I had my doubts and sent Kalashov there. When he called me back at six, I realised that Olga Fedorovna was there. I sent a full team to raid the house but she wasn't there any longer. Only Stephanov and another of your men. We killed one more while we were securing the field.”

“What happened to Guntram?”

“The details remain still unclear.” Malchenko hesitated to tell the truth, “It wasn't pretty.”

“Boris, we need to know what happened. Lintorff swears he had nothing to do with this,” Oblomov interfered, taking the man by his elbow.

“I'm sure of that. It was your wife. The prisoners confirmed it. Stephanov blames it on her. She was there.”

“What happened?” Constantin growled feeling the bile rose to his throat, but his cousin only fixed his eyes in the shinning floor without speaking.

“You can tell him, Boris.” Oblomov encouraged him.

“He was beaten, tortured, stabbed, and raped by her men. I don't know how many. His bodyguard, Yuri Rimsky, was killed in front of him. When we rescued him he was more dead than alive. The surgery lasted many hours and they had to remove the spleen and part of the liver as it was destroyed beyond repair. He had a heart attack and the doctors discovered that he has a previous and delicate heart condition, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, and fear that he might have some brain damage; this is why he's in an induced coma for five days at least. They need to reduce the stress and the pain as much as possible to give his heart a chance to recover, but there are not many. His left hand is practically destroyed, but the doctors will do nothing in the moment about it as they're more concerned about his internal injuries.”

“Where is she?”

“She escaped. My men are looking for her, Constantin, but I would need yours too.”

“Ivan Ivanovich, can you take care of this?”

“Of course, it will be my pleasure, my friend.”

“Don't touch a single hair from her. She's mine. I'll deal with her once I've recovered my angel,”

Constantin said and sat in the chair to wait for the visiting hours.

“Oblomov,” he growled in his mobile phone, frustrated that after one full day of work and using most of his resources, nothing had come up. The brief vision of the boy hooked up to machines to keep him alive and the way he had been beaten was building up his rage more and more and he needed someone to vent his frustration.

“Ivan Ivanovich, I might have something that belongs to you,” Konrad von Lintorff said visibly upset at the tone the other man was using with him.

“Duke, I was not expecting your call at all. Please forgive my manners,” Ivan apologized hurriedly.

“My sources tell me that you lost something and are desperately seeking it.”

“Indeed.”

“Is it related to the London issue you phoned me about on Sunday?”

“It's linked, yes, sir.”

“I understand Constantin Ivanovich is under some stress at the moment.”

“We all are, Sire. Difficult times.”

“Indeed, perhaps you all should take a look at Ipanema beaches. They're very beautiful at this time of the year. Full with… impressive women.”

“I thank you for your advice, Duke. Most assuredly we will take a trip there.”

“Send my greetings to Constantin Ivanovich. I'm looking forward to hearing from him in two months when we're less stressed.”

“I will pass your message, sir.” Oblomov answered not really believing that Lintorff had helped them selflessly -'sure, pigs can fly-' and offered a two months truce -just to recover and kick you better-without asking nothing in return.

Chapter 13
Guntram de Lisle's Diary

August 12th 2003 (cont.)

On August 3rd the doctors finally decided to get me from wherever I was. I remember nothing about those
two weeks. Nothing at all. No lights, no voices, no nurses or doctors around, like they always tell in the novels. I only
slept and slept to wake up with many tubes attached to me, feeling very weak and with my life turned upside down. I
was transferred to the intermediate care ward, where the nurses kept telling me that it was a miracle that I was alive.

I had two heart attacks, lost my spleen and part of my liver, the doctors were not sure that I would
recover the full mobility of my left hand, although the bones seemed to be healing fine, and I would have to take
medications for the rest of my life because of my heart failure, avoid stress under any costs, and forget about any kind
of hard activities as my heart wouldn't tolerate more stress.

There was a nice psychologist woman who spoke with me very lengthy about my new life as a cardiac
heart patient, sweetly informing me of the long list of things to avoid, like living for example. We never spoke about
what happened that day and I was glad for it. I wanted the memories to go away and took gladly every sleeping pill
they gave me. The doctors released me yesterday and they kept me in sort of “pharmaceutical cloud”, stunned and
happy. I was sleeping most of the time, almost not talking as it took a lot of energy to do so.

Constantin was with me all the time and I can't be furious with him even if I should. He slept on a couch
and didn't leave my side not for a single moment. I think Oblomov was tired of bringing sandwiches and coffee for
him. Mikhail came by several times but he wasn't staying, only speaking in Russian with the “boss”.

I understand now the meaning of the nickname. It wasn't familiarity or camaraderie. It was his rank. If
you make deals with a man like Lintorff and he also helps you with your finances, some of his own trash should stick
to you. He's neither clean nor Constantin.