Into the Lion's Den (35 page)

“Boss ordered me to gather information about the artist and it was true. He was an eighteen year old
boy working as a waiter in a bar. Boss fell in love with him the minute he saw him and was after him for several
months till the boy noticed him.”

“Playing hard to get a better price?” Konrad snorted. “I thought Repin knew better.”

“No, that's the funny part. The boy never saw him or acknowledged him, till boss nearly shouted with
him. He lives on another planet, like all artists do… and he comes from another planet too. He's a decent lad. Honest
to the point of being an idiot, although he's very intelligent. Had it not been for Olga Fedorovna's meddling, he would
still be happily believing that we are serious businessmen from Russia, that Repin is a respectable society member. He
was studying Art History in UCL, London till seven months ago.”

“What happened?” I asked while Konrad smirked. I think he knows something and forgot to inform me.

Once more.

“She felt jealous of him and attacked him. Nearly killed him, but he survived.”

“She never cared about Repin's adventures before.”

“When they are adventures women don't care, my Duke. The problem arose when she found out that
Repin had installed the boy in the London residence, the one in front of Holland Park, throwing her out of the
property. She went ballistic and arranged that the boy would be attacked, raped and killed. Fortunately, his
bodyguard—between you and me his job was to make sure that the boy was not playing around the corner—could get
help before they would have stabbed him to death. In the hospital the doctors nearly finished him because no one
knew that he had a previous and serious heart condition. He suffers from heart failure and they had to operate on
him, provoking a heart attack and since that time, he's still in recovery. Can't have any kind of stress, so boss took him
out of London and brought him here.”

“Is that the reason behind Stephanov's death?” Konrad asked coldly as I was horrified. I know she's a
difficult woman but to order this when she could have offered money or just tell him to beat it was too much for my
standards. The boy didn't look like he could be a force against you, or there was something more that Oblomov was
leaving out of the picture.

“An eye for an eye. Boss is still considering the divorce express option. The children are the only
stopper. Guntram, that's the boy's name, changed a lot after the attack. Before he was a good trusting lad, kind to
everybody, happy in his limbo and now he's afraid of people the whole time, never speaks unless you speak with him,
depressed, utterly sad and more shy than ever. He only paints the whole day or writes.”

“A near death experience has that effect on people,” Konrad retorted.

“Boss takes great care of him. He lets him play with his own children and they like Guntram very much.

Specially the youngest one, Vania.” There it's. Olga Fedorovna has a replacement. I'm not surprised she wanted to
kill him. It was she or he. Anyway, there are good poisons for that matter. No need to be so brutal and slow. It can
only end badly. Too many loose ends. Fast and clean is the best.

“What is his last name?” I, the idiot, asked.

“That is the funniest part, gentlemen. He is from noble birth, a distant cousin of yours even, Duke.” Why
was Oblomov smiling so much and since when does he gossip with us? True we share information but nothing of a
personal nature.

“I have no relatives in Argentina.”

“He is not Argentinean. He's French and partly German. His father worked for you even,” he said to
our utter astonishment.

“I don't follow you, Ivan Ivanovich.”

“Easy. His full name is Guntram Philippe Alphonse de Lisle Guttenberg Sachsen. His father was Jerôme
de Lisle Guttenberg Sachsen and his mother Cécile Dubois Strinberg. Are the Lintorffs not related with the
Guttenberg Sachsen? According to boss, they were the main providers of wives and husbands for the whole European
nobility. All of them good looking and too silly to make troubles. Good to have one around when the blood was too
contaminated by marrying your cousin and producing too many monsters! Endogamy is good for the fortune but bad
for the species.”

“Not silly, they are known for being very generous and kind hearted,” Konrad replied automatically as
he was digesting the news. The boy was Roger's nephew! That explained the resemblance.

“Yes, that was Guntram like before the attack. Can you imagine that he was going to a slum every time
he could to help in the communal kitchen? Repin had to bribe the local Mafia boss so he would kick the boy out. He
didn't want to come with Repin because he didn't want to leave the children behind. He still sends part of the money
he makes to the priest there. That boy has no malice or pettiness in him,” Oblomov laughed. “Electrons and protons.”

Did he wink at me?

I looked again at the lad, almost clutching onto Repin's arm, and noticed that he was doing his best to
control his ragged breathing, looking truly afraid of something. Konrad was also inspecting him with that fierceness I
know that leads to big troubles.

“That's a side effect. He can't be around too many people for too long; specially men. He can't stand it.

Boss will take him away soon or send him home,” Oblomov shrugged. “Ten to twenty minutes is the limit.”

As Oblomov predicted, Repin whispered something in his ear and the boy smiled nervously and dashed
to the door to be intercepted by a giant with his coat. “That's Mikhail Massaiev, his bodyguard. He'll take him home.

He's getting better. Lasted twenty-three minutes.”

The rest of the night, Konrad was like absent. Working as usual and effectively dealing with Repin and
his people, but I knew his mind was somewhere else that wasn't the peace agreement we had reached with that slug.

Back in our hotel, I thought it was time to stop whatever he was planning because it has taken a great toll on us to
keep our positions in Central Europe against Repin's advance and Gasrom.

“Konrad, spit out what you're thinking. You're up to nothing good.”

“I? I'm only tired from the day.”

“Of course, seeing Roger's nephew has nothing to do with the fact that you're distracted and ignoring
me.”

“He really looks like him.”

“Not at al. Roger was always the centre of attention and this one was scurrying to the darkest corner.

He's shorter, blonder and looks much better than him.”

“I had no idea that you were checking him so thoroughly. Should I be jealous, Ferdinand?” he mocked
me.

“Idiot! Of course not. Hear me well: this boy has a “property of Mr. Repin” sign tattooed on his back.

He's been his lover for the past two years. I don't want more troubles with him. Morozov's story costed us around 4.8

billion!”

“And it took 7.3 billion plus the loss of the Georgian gas monopole for Repin. Not to mention that the
Authorities are after him, now.”

“Repin cleaned his backyard and offered his apologies. Do you want to start a real war with him?”

“He attacked me and I'm the offended part. He's even asking for my support to survive the internal fight
unleashed by his own greed. Perhaps I should ask for a guarantor in order to secure my own position.”

“Konrad…”

“Besides, the boy belongs to me. It's part of a previous agreement made by his father on his behalf.”

“Please, you can't be serious about it!”

“Jerôme was cleverer than I thought. He is exactly as promised.”

“Pity you didn't respect the other part of the agreement. The one about not killing the uncle? For the
past thirteen years you've been after his throat.”

“Did I touch the boy? Did I touch Roger's family? No, only exiled them. Löwenstein can consider
himself lucky his niece and her daughter survived it.”

“Konrad, for Christ's sake! It's his nephew!”

“His father gave him to me as a replacement for Roger. I only swore to wait till he would turn eighteen
and refrain myself to press him into doing something against his wishes.”

“You don't even like young boys! You’re the first person to tell they are little dodos unable to utter a full
sentence!”

“I can change my mind, can't I? We always have to evolve Ferdinand,” the asshole sauntered.

“You have been fucking every woman that came around. Lord! Do you even keep the numbers? I don't
remember many boys like that one. You like dark-haired men, over thirty, not blond.”

“Perhaps I have issues of my own. Since Roger, I can't be near a blond. I don't like them. Maybe it's time
to put that unreasonable belief aside. It truly narrows the hunting.”

“Excellent. Finally you agree that you need therapy and you want to have it with the favourite plaything
of a vicious mobster. Truly Konrad, you need a real shrink.”

“It seems you oppose my idea, Ferdinand. Remember he's a member of the Order since birth and his
father paid with his blood his right to be readmitted.”

“I hardly doubt that this was on Jerôme's mind when he made the pact. He hated and despised us!”

“Nevertheless, the boy is mine and I don't like people touching my things and we need a guarantee just
to keep Repin under control for a while. My decision is made, Ferdinand. Find out everything you can about him. End
of story.”

I want to resurrect Jerôme and kill him once more! He gave his brat to Konrad in exchange for his
brother's life and his own and now Konrad wants to collect that old debt!

I still don't know how, but Konrad managed to be invited to Repin's house on Saturday. Confidence
building measures, my ass! However, there we went, with Goran in tow, upset that he was forced to attend a “social
meeting” with the slug, his little slugs, the slug wife and everything. Repin's residence was exactly as I remembered.

Big, luxurious and good taste. Must be the Arseniev in him, nothing like those pompous houses from Russian nouveau
riche. Do they think they're going to die if the plumbing is not made in solid gold? Don't they have enough money as
to build a garage that they need to park everything at the entrance? Maybe they're planning to set a used cars
business in the yard. I fear one day, I'll find a price tag attached to the Venus in the living room.

I should have known something was wrong the minute, Repin didn't come to greet us and Olga
Fedorovna was nowhere to be seen (or heard) Instead, his four children—from the girl, Sofía, 13, I guess, almost a
young lady, Constantin 10, Vladimir 9 and Vania 5— were loudly playing blind man's buff in the garden with the boy,
trying to catch them. All right, Olga would not accompany us.

Konrad stood there, examining him again as if he were a horse—silent. “Let's go inside. Repin should be
here in any minute.” I said, willing to get him out of trouble—as if it ever had worked fine!-.

“He has to solve the issue at Novosibirsk. Might take some time Ferdinand, don't you think Goran?” He
smirked to me.

“Indeed my Duke.”

Those two were plotting at my back again! We don't need extra heat in the moment and the Serb had
been up to something!

“Konrad…” I started to give him a piece of my mind, but the jackass went to the children and let himself
be caught by the boy who seemed to hesitate at having something so big on the hook. “Mikhail!” he guessed,
removing the blind to almost die of shame under Konrad's intensive gaze.

“Wrong. My name is Konrad von Lintorff,” he introduced himself, catching him by the arm and the boy
nearly jumped away. He's certainly nervous.

“I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to be disrespectful. I didn't notice you were here. Come children, we go
inside,” he said in a hurry, with the smallest one clinging from his leg.

“Mr. Repin invited us but he is nowhere to be seen? Should we go away?” Konrad continued with his
happy grabbing of the boy. Konrad, you're not buying tomatoes at the market!

“I'll call Mr. Malchenko in a minute, Sire,” he said, finally disentangling himself from Konrad. They all
went inside the house.

“Well, it seems we wait at the door,” Konrad shrugged.

“It has improved, my Duke. Before, Russian noblemen were releasing the dogs and asking questions
later,” Goran smirked. “You almost gave him his second heart attack, Sire.”

“He should be less nervous around people,” Konrad observed.

“If I would have been repeatedly raped by three goons, beaten to the point of death, my left hand
destroyed with a hammer and given the opportunity to choose between amputation of the right one or be killed, I
would also be nervous around people,” Goran informed us looking very sombre. “He was only twenty when it
happened. Like my brother. Not surprisingly, he tried to commit suicide two and a half months ago.”

“How do you know it?” I asked in disbelief.

“Milan Mihailovic is very good for Public Relations, von Kleist. The one who looks after him, Mikhail
Petrovich Massaiev, told him the whole story last night. That woman was really bent against him. It seems Repin
forced her to watch how they did the same to her lover with the difference that he got a shot in the head at the end. I
would have not been so merciful. Since that time, the boy lives here with the children and they're very fond of him. Of
course, they know nothing about it. Only that he's an artist and very sick in the heart. He's a good boy according to
Massaiev, generous but a little silly. Imagine, he feels responsible for what happened! He even told Massaiev that it
was his fault that Repin was having an affair with him! He wanted to leave him so he would return to his wife!”