Into the Lion's Den (33 page)

“Perhaps he could see the guest book.”

“Yes, of course. Almost finished,” the man replied, taking a small leather bound folder from a nearby table. “Not again!” he complained when he saw a young woman making a photo out of a pastel. “With flash on top!

Excuse me; I have to get the bumpkins out. They can't read a sign and much less understand a simple logo. Madam!”

The Russian took the boy by the arm and started to look at the paintings, but Guntram said nothing but a few monosyllables in response to his questioning. The man's mobile phone rang and Constantin left the room, speaking very fast in Russian.

Guntram's attention was caught by a middle age woman, very simply dressed, looking at the series of children from the slum. She seemed to be in awe and he started to become restless under the close scrutiny of his paintings. 'It's just a school teacher, nothing else,' Guntram tried to calm himself down. 'She's just looking at your painting; she has nothing to do with you.'

“Don't you think it's nice?” The woman asked Guntram, nearly sending into panic. “You look so upset about it.”

“It's fine.”

“I like it a lot. A colleague from the office told me about it. She saw it during her lunch time. Pity there's no catalogue. I couldn't afford the pieces at all. Do you know something about the artist?”

“No,” Guntram blurted out.

“There's only a leaflet with some of the pictures and says that he's from Argentina.” She continued with her chat, fondling with the small booklet's pages. “Here, this one! Do you see these little children? They really look as

“porteños” and the cookies they're eating are the same I was having when I was a little girl! I'm from Argentina and you?”

“French.”

“Did the cat eat your tongue? It's so rare to see something from my own country here, especially after the mess in 2001. People don't like us. Have you been to Argentina?”

“Yes,” Guntram said starting to feel dizzy as his mind was working at full speed evaluating if that woman could be a threat or not. Olga Fedorovna was an elegant lady and she had turned into a bloody monster.

“Really? When and where?”

“Long time ago. Excuse me,” Guntram said desperately, clutching the book just to ease the tension and turning around to go back to the bodyguard standing by the door. “Hey, don't take the book away. I want to write something too!” He heard her shouting and coming to him, extending her hand toward him. Guntram took a step backwards and threw the book over a table, doing his best to avoid being near her, to return to Constantin.

“Freak,” she mumbled, picking it up from the table.

Guntram de Lisle's Diary

August 20th 2003

I have been for a week in Paris. Constantin stayed with me the first four days but then, he had to go
away on business. I truly don't want to know what they're up to. I think he's in Zürich visiting the Hochmeister from
the Order. They're at each other throats because of Morozov's attack on one of the members and making Lintorff lose
a lot of money with some Central European country, according to Mikhail Petrovich, and he wanted Constantin dead.

Boris Malchenko told me that Lintorff had offered a truce for two months, after my attack and the first month was
over and they want to negotiate once more before they start to kill each other again. Constantin-Morozov lost the
control of the gas in Georgia as Lintorff forced all the investors to withdraw their support and there was not enough
time for find new ones. Something called Gasrom was also lost and that was a huge hit for Constantin as he was
counting on it for balancing the bad figures he was getting in Moscow.

I do hope they fix their problems. I don't want that Constantin is hurt because of whatever they're doing.

I don't love him anymore but I don't want something to happen to him. He betrayed me when he lied to me but he was
always a good friend of mine. All those allegations about Federico can't be true. Why would he do it? He knew that I
loved him and I would have never gone away with someone else.

No news about that woman and every time I ask, I only get an “it's none of your concern. Mr. Repin will
decide her fate. She's alive.”

Mikhail took me to the Louvre but I couldn't enter, to much people around and I just panicked. I can't
stand unknown people around me. It's crazy, I know, but I just can’t bring myself to go into a place full with other
human beings. I feel physically bad, with palpitations and everything. He had to take me out. He tried again the next
day with the Musée Quai d'Orsay with the same results. Just the huge entrance hall, full with tourists made me feel
dizzy and short of breath.

Yesterday I was luckier with the Tuilleries; I suppose that the open spaces and great distances between
people let me be more at ease, but not much. Mikhail has a lot of patience with me because he was silent all the time
and discreetly sat next to me with a book in Russian and my backpack with my sketching things, which landed on my
lap. I opened it and stared at the sketch pad for a long time, doubtful and afraid. My left hand is still useless, cased in
a plaster but I feel no pain in the right one. I thought I could draw something, but not people. I focused myself on
some sparrows and jackdaws looking for food. I miss the squirrels from Hyde Park.

A couple approached me and stood very close to me, examining my work and I nearly panicked.

Fortunately, Mikhail asked them if they needed something with an expression I've never seen in him and that was truly
terrifying. They left in haste.

“Thank you.”

“Not at all. It's my line of business,” he chortled. “It was hard to be part Russian and work at the
French Embassy as military attaché. Neither side liked me. Glad to know I haven't lost my touch. Those birds are
nice.”

“Nothing that could be compared to before. Rubbish,” I replied, tearing the pages down. I felt better
after it.

“Guntram, the birds were fine.”

“No, they weren't. Are you an Art Critic now?”

“Well, at least you react to something,” He huffed, looking at me crossed. “Don't take it on me.”

“Don't you think I have enough criteria as to know what's good and what's a piece of crap?”

“Watch your language.”

“Sure, I'm the nice Guntram, the polite boy who happens to fuck a mobster but he has to be nice and
obedient.” I exploded at him. Faster than I could move away, he took my right wrist in a painful grip and squeezed it
for a brief moment, enough to cause pain but avoid to leave a mark.

“Be nice, Guntram. We all want that you feel all right, but we will not tolerate any disrespectful
behaviour from you. What you went through was bad and undeserved, but it's boss' call to fix it. You can do nothing,
so save us all the prima donna moment. I hate hysterical boys and you will not like me when I'm displeased. Compose
yourself and be nice. If you ever use the same tone you did just now with me, with Mr. Repin, what happened to you in
that cellar would be a wild party compared to what he could do to you. Don't try his patience, boy.”

“I'm going home.”

“You're going nowhere but where Mr. Repin tells you. You're his lover and he loves you deeply. He will
do everything in his hand for you but you must also put some of your part. The only thing you can think about is how
to run away from him when he's your only friend!”

“I want to leave all this; I'm no part of this world. I destroyed his marriage!”

“That marriage never existed, boy. He thinks of getting rid of his wife since a long time, much before
you came into his life.”

“He has a family! Don't you understand it? I destroyed it! I only wanted to get a family of my own and
ruined four children's lives!”

“You ruined nothing. If they're unhappy is because their mother doesn't care much about them—she only
cares about herself—and their father is always away, avoiding the mother. They love more their nanny than their
parents. Maria Ingratievna is always there for them. The boss wants to change it and wants to share his children with
you. He's offering you a permanent place at his side! Guntram, come to St. Petersburg, give him a chance to mend
what was broken.”

“I don't trust him anymore. He lied to me.”

“Because he loved you. He didn't want you to suffer. He's sorry for his mistake. He was with you all the
time. Not many would do it for a lover. Guntram, you're not a child any longer. You have to grow up. Nobody is
perfect and we all have faults. We have to find the way to cope with them.”

“I don't love him any longer. He's not the man I thought he was. He's a total stranger to me. You also;
look at you; you've just hurt me because you didn't like my tone!”

“No, I wouldn't hurt you. I just wanted you to realise where you're standing. We are your friends but you
have to come back to us. Rejecting what we are will not change anything and will only cause you pain. You're not
Russian or ever lived under a system like that. It's either being part of the Mafia or sweep the streets. They organise
themselves like that. We both are French and we can't understand it. If he does not do it, someone else will. Many
want his position, starting by his wife. If she went against you it was because she wanted to weaken him, not because
she was jealous! She had support from someone inside our organization but she has not told us who.”

“She told the men not to mar my face so I would make a nice body and Constantin would be devastated.

It was Morozov's idea.” I confessed. “I think Yuri suspected something because he made me carry the small mobile
with me when he normally had it. He told me to switch it on if there was something wrong.”

“Yuri was poisoned in the morning, this is why he couldn't be with you. According to the autopsy he died
at 12:00.”

“No, I spoke with him. He was barely alive, but he spoke with me at 3:00. I'm sure. He told me about the
mobile. I had no idea what it was,” I said very agitated.

“Don't think about it. I've heard many strange stories from combat situations. A battlefield is the perfect
place to find God. Are you certain about Morozov?”

“I don't know any longer. If you say that I spoke with a corpse…”

“The estimated death time could be wrong also.”

“I think she said it to Stephanov, but I could be mistaken. I was in shock.”

“You did well in telling me. Mr. Repin will know what to do.”

I'm still thinking about what he told me. I don't know. Perhaps I should give Constantin another chance.

I was not always forthcoming with him. What am I thinking? I don't love him at all. Maybe I never did and was only
happy to have him around, I don't know. I can't love him. He's dragging me to Russia when I don't want to go there.

I should tell it to him very clearly. We both agreed we could split the moment one didn't want to
continue. We only swore to be true to each other. No hard feelings.

The only thing Constantin wanted was to be back in Paris. The meeting with Lintorff had been frustrating as his opponent was bent on blaming him for everything that had transpired. He wanted an impossible compensation (
carte blanche
in the Romanian privatizations, four billion euros to balance his losses and Morozov's head on a silver tray) or go to total war. “I even gave your wife back! I always respected our agreements and do you repay me like this?” He had shouted and Constantin had been very afraid that Lintorff could be interested in finding out his reasons for willing to kill his wife.

“Konrad, be reasonable please. Morozov acted all by himself. He wanted to depose me as you're perfectly aware. He came to you first.”

“I refused his offer. I honoured my oath!”

“I had nothing to do with this!”

“Morozov is a rat who follows your every command. If you're not so much in power as I believed, perhaps it would be good that you're removed.”

“I control my territory. Pray that I don't come to yours!”

“Please, gentlemen. We don't need to argue,” Ferdinand von Kleist interfered. “Showing our tempers will not solve this misunderstanding.”

“I had losses for over 4.8 billion!” Lintorff shouted enraged, ignoring his second in command and long time friend. He didn't want peace, he wanted to go to war and Ferdinand was delaying the inevitable once more. At least, Michael Dähler understood much better the whole concept. This Russian scum was blatantly testing his defence abilities, attacking his associates -provoking an uprising within the Order-and Ferdinand could only think on the costs of a war!

“My companies lost 7.8 billion thanks to you and many more in contracts!”

“Sell some of your paintings,” the Duke retorted heatedly.

“Konrad, we never had troubles in the past. Why would I attack you now? It's suicidal for me!”

Constantin tried to reason with Konrad once more but he always took very bad any kind of challenges toward his leadership. Treason was something that simply drove him mad and into one of his killing sprees.

“You betrayed my trust in you. Remember who helped you after 1991.”

“I always allowed your brothers to work in my land. We shared our expertise with each other.”

“I have an internal uprising and many challenges on my leadership because you killed Schäffer.”

“I swear on my children's heads that I did not give the order. That was Morozov's reaction when you destroyed his company!”