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Authors: Tionne Rogers

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“I don't know.”

“Because he knew that the moment we would have heard about you, we would have taken you back with
us. We would have never left you in the hands of a gangster! Look what his wife did to you just to protect her credit
card!”

“Constantin was very generous with me,” I defended him.

“But for how long?” Goran said. “That he loves you doesn't mean that he has the integrity to have
you.”

Lintorff entered the room and both men stood up. I did the same without realising it. “Gentlemen,” he
indicated them that they could sit again and we did. “Guntram, my doctor will see you after lunch. He will give your
prescriptions to Friederich.”

“My Duke, may I take Guntram to Zurich this afternoon?” Goran asked.

“It all depends on the doctor's word. If he agrees, you can do it, Goran. Tell Antonov to come by later.

Ferdinand, do you want to stay for lunch?”

“No, I'll go home.”

“I will be back at four with Antonov, Sire,” Goran said and both men dashed to the door, leaving me
alone with the monster.

“It seems it's only us for lunch,” He shrugged and went to the big desk, sitting there. I stood up to leave
him but he only barked. “Grab a book and sit by the fire. No need to go away.” I obeyed him because I didn't know
where to go or what was I allowed to do in this house. “The art section is over there.” He indicated to me and I took a
volume on medieval wood carving. I was fascinated by one carver, Till Riemenschneider, how he was making the
figures, a Renaissance man in the middle of the Gothic. He was not even applying a polychrome on them. I looked at
it for a long time, lost in the hands details or the folds in the draperies or the long silhouettes from his virgins.

“The Madonna in the Chapel was made by him. You will see it tomorrow when Pater Bruno comes for
Mass. Are you a Catholic?”

“Yes, Duke. I was rose a Catholic. I used to work for the Church in the slums back in Buenos Aires. I
couldn't attend Mass in Russia because of my health.”

“You will attend the ceremony tomorrow with me. Pater Bruno will be delighted to be your Spiritual
Director. From which order was the priest you were helping?”

“No order. He was a priest. Pater Patricio was in the Third World Movement of Priests, nothing else.” I
answered. “He was our religion teacher in the school and used to take us there to teach us some empathy.”

“Did he succeed?”

“I was going every time I could. I try to support him every time I can.”

“With the other students, boy. I know that with you was very successful. Massaiev told my men that
Repin had to pay the local dealer to shoo you. Is it true you preferred the mud to the London cobblestones?”

I felt very bad. Did Constantin really do it? That would have explained Cucho's sudden change of heart.

He never had problems with me before till that day. His daughter liked me and was crying when I left. “I don't know. I
was very happy there,” I whispered.

“Perhaps you could help my cousin Gertrud. She's Ferdinand's wife and the President of the Lintorff
Foundation. We mostly finance charity projects from the Church, but we have some of our own. She always complains
that she has not enough people to help her with the choosing. We have to find something for you to do here.

Something that is not too stressful.”

The serious butler entered and announced that lunch was served.

I got hospital food for a change. Apple juice and mineral water. It seems the doctor was already
speaking with the chef. However, it tasted fantastic even if there was not an ounce of salt in the whole thing and it was
a chicken breast.

After the main dish was served by Friederich, he left the small dining room and Lintorff started again.

“I don't understand why first you were studying Social Work, visiting popular areas and then you
registered for Art History in UCL. I thought you liked it.”

“Mr. Repin insisted on the change. He said that I needed to acquire a broader artistic background to
paint better. According to him, I should explore on my own boundaries, and a sound academic foundation would be
the best. I took some classes with a private teacher, but I never got along with the rest of the students. I'm too classical
and dull for Modern Art.”

“I saw the portrait you made of Repin's four children at his office. Very beautiful indeed. Also the one
from Oblomov's wife. It's true that you're very classical but you already have a style.”

“I can draw, that's all.”

“We will look for a teacher for you. You should not loose your practice. Perhaps we could register you
for the University in the spring term.”

“It's not necessary. I will not stay for so long, Sire.”

“We'll see.”

The doctor, a man in his sixties, came after lunch and checked me and my medications. He decided to
maintain what I had previously taken as he confirmed my diagnosis; heart failure due to h ypertrophic
cardiomyopathy. He left several samples and told Friederich, the butler to take me on Monday to the Hirschbaum
Clinic where I should see Dr. van Horn and he would adjust the doses. He left a diet and the indication of no stress at
all for me. As it would be so easy.

“Mr. de Lisle, would you like to go to Zurich with Mr. Pavicevic and me?” The man asked me after
showing the doctor out. Lintorff had disappeared into his library after eating and remained there. “If you're too tired
from the flight I can ask the tailor to come over here in the late afternoon.”

“No, it's all right. I'll go. No need to trouble the man,” I said, and the butler attempted to smile at me for
the first time.

“As you wish. We'll drive at 4:00 when Mr. Pavicevic arrives.”

“Excuse Mr…” What was his last name?

“My last name is Elssäser but is sufficient to call me Friederich, sir.”

“It's about that. No one ever calls me sir, it drives me nervous as I'm not used to it. People call me de
Lisle or Guntram, Mr. Friederich.”

“No need to use a title with me. His Excellency does not tolerate the slightest informality around him
and he has introduced you as his ward therefore you belong to his family and should be treated accordingly. Besides,
if I understood correctly, you're the Vicomte de Marignac and your grandfather's sole heir.”

“It's hard for me to call you only by your name. You're my elder. I don't want to be disrespectful.”

“You will not be. I could call you by your Christian name when the Duke is not around, but the rest of
the service will address to you as sir. You will be under my personal care for the moment like the Duke is. Once you're
settled you might choose, if you prefer so, another butler.”

“Thank you, but I don't want to trouble you.”

“You will be no trouble at all, child.”

“The Duke told me I can attend Mass tomorrow. Is the Church far away from the house?”

“The chapel is crossing the courtyard, around the castle. I will inform Pater Bruno of your coming. Do
you want to go to confession, Guntram?”

“Yes, I do.”

“The service is in German, do you think you would be able to follow it?”

“I speak not a word of German. Does the Pater speak English or French?”

“Both languages. I'll look for a service book for you so you can take a look tonight, child,” he told me,
using a grandfather voice, making me feel less nervous around him.

“About the tailor, I have my clothes still in St. Petersburg. Mr. Repin will have no problems to send them
here…”

“The Duke forbids you to have anything more from that man, Guntram. He does not belong to our
entourage and will never be one of us like you are. It's unfortunate that you were living with him for so long, but
fortunately this has not provoked any further damages in your well being. I'll show you your room now.”

It seems the butler really rules in this house.

The famous blue room in the tower was on the second floor of the tower part, as the first floor had been
transformed into some offices, the second was divided in the blue and the red rooms and on the top was the duke's
private area. My room was painted in a beige colour but the draperies were blue, the covers on the bed also blue, the
carpets in blue and the chairs and chaise longue under the big window overlooking the gardens were blue. I had a
desk and a bathroom. According to Friederich it was a guest room for the family. My schedule was going to be the
following. I should be ready at 7:30 a.m. to have breakfast with his Excellency in the dinning room, after that, he
would go to his work in Zürich and then, I was free to do whatever I pleased for the moment till 7 p.m. when the Duke
would return home and have dinner with me or with other guests if something had been planned. I'm supposed to be
quiet about anything I might hear in a conversation within these walls. Many top people from finances and politics
come here almost every night the Duke is in the city. During the week, Friederich would speak with Pater Bruno and
will find something for me to do (?) I was ordered to rest till 4:30 p.m. when we would drive away.

Being alone in that room nearly made me cry like a baby. I never felt so alone since I knew about my
father's death. I sat on the bed uncertain of what to do. Escaping was out of the question as the place is a fortress. I
saw several men walking around on the outside part of the house. There are video cameras discreetly placed
everywhere, the windows are bullet proof and the guards are armed. The nice one, Goran, was carrying a Walther
P99.

Constantin told me once Lintorff was rich like the devil and paranoid to a crazy point, seeing betrayals
everywhere. His personal fortune was twice as much as Constantin's and he had hedge funds, banks worth five
hundred billion, without counting the extent of the Order's illegal operations as they “process” the money coming
from every gangster in Europe, reinvesting their winnings into industry and finance. They were even working part
time with the Russians till the problem with Morozov.

I heard a soft knock on my door and I opened it to find Lintorff standing there. I was shocked, but moved
aside to let him in. He inspected the room briefly but thoroughly.

“Is everything to your liking, Guntram?”

“Yes, sire. Thank you.”

“Anything you might need, ask Friederich. Are you sure you want to drive to Zurich now? I've just
spoken on the phone with Dr. Wagemann and he informed me that your condition is more serious than I originally
estimated. You should have not even travelled for so long. You should rest today and tomorrow. I apologise for my
rudeness last night.”

“Sire, I don't want to cause any more troubles than necessary. I'll go now and rest tomorrow if you agree
to it,” I added the last part as no matter how polite and nice he sounds, he's my jailer.

“As you prefer Guntram. Perhaps it would be good if you go with Goran and choose some painting
material so you can stay inside the house for the next week. None of us knows a thing about pencils or papers. The
doctor says that you should not be out in the cold. It's only till your body adjusts to the weather.”

“I understand, Sire.”

“You can call me Konrad. We are going to live under the same roof for some time and the best would be
that we reach some sort of understanding between us. I have no ill thoughts against you or your line nor a bad
disposition toward you personally. I give you my word that I will do whatever is in my hands to make you feel
comfortable around us. My problems with Repin should not affect you.”

“What will happen if you don't collect your debt in a year?”

“You're very mistaken if you're thinking that the minute he does not pay me I will kill you and send your
body to him. This is not the Russian Mafia. I will consider that he has lost any claims on you and keep you with me.

You're a member of the Order and have never risen against me; therefore it's my duty to protect you. Regardless of
what that criminal might have told you about us, we operate under strict codes and harming a hostage is a very
serious crime against our beliefs. Not all of our brothers are involved in finance or industry. Some of us are placed in
governments, scientific organizations, universities or the performing arts as they play a key role in our society. We
will find something for you to do, Guntram.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

“Konrad,” he corrected me mildly, but in a scary way. He's not a nice man no matter how polite he
looks. Constantin says he's vicious when he kills. “Pavicevic will come in an hour with your personal bodyguard. You
will obey all his commands if you want to leave the residence. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sire… Constantin, Konrad I mean.” Old habits die hard. Constantin bosses me exactly as him.

“Try not to mistake me with that man. Rest till four,” he ordered coldly and left the room. I collapsed on
the bed, never so tired in my life but at quarter to four, I rose and washed my face, ready to continue with the charade.

BOOK: Into the Lion's Den
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