Into the Lion's Den (93 page)

Guntram took the chicken out of the microwave and set it on the kitchen's table, waiting for his father. A few minutes later, he came with different trousers and a plaid shirt. “Tomorrow, I'm staying with you. I have to be in Paris in five days to help Nicholas with a case. Big mess, exactly what I love,” Michel smirked.

“I worry every time you go there. What if Repin goes against you? He knows where you live! Where you work! What if he goes against Lefèbre?”

“Guntram, you should stop worrying yourself so much. It's harmful for you. Everything was a calculated risk and it wouldn't be the first time we do something crazy together. I met him when the fool was trying to set a Molotov cocktail with a piece of paper!”

“That's sounds more like suicide!” Guntram laughed.

“And he even argued with me when I took the bottle away!” Michel also laughed at the memory of those crazy days in May 68. “We slept that night at the police station. My father was furious with me the next morning. He almost sent me back to Poitiers in chains! Imagine, one of the cops asked me if I preferred to stay with them! After all, I had showed them how to save money in their tax declarations.”

“The grandfather had a very strong character,” Guntram chuckled not surprised that his father had a good relationship with the policemen. 'Probably he convinced them to join the revolution by paying less taxes to finance De Gaulle's police state.'

“Very hard man; stern to no end. Well, he had three boys to keep under his rule. Pascal was always starting the ruckus, Roger immediately following him and I saving their asses. Literally. Therefore my father sent me to Law school!” Michel said, enjoying the laughter of his son. “Really Guntram, don't worry about Repin. He's looking for you in Venezuela or Colombia.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I paid a French student, looking very similar to you to use a fake passport with your name and take a flight to Buenos Aires that same night. When he arrived to Buenos Aires, he used his own passport and entered the country under his name. He must be travelling around Argentina. I'm offended with Repin because he lost my son from what was supposed to be the simplest thing in the world. After all, you have no experience at all in such matters!

None of the Russians lurking the hotel knew Chano and he drove you to the Airport.”

“Papa, Constantin is a very clever man and he's ruthless!”

“Guntram, I know who he's because I work for him since 1995. Last year, his companies paid my firm over fifty million Euros for our services. If something were to happen to me or to Nicholas, a dossier with vital information about him would fall in the wrong hands. You know what you have to do if this happens. Go to Frankfurt and take from the safe box all the papers in there and leave the country or return to Lintorff. He will help you.”

“I don't want to lose you again!”

“You won't. I'm here to stay this time, my son.”

“Lintorff would kill you if he finds out about you! He killed Uncle Roger and that journalist!”

“I know and that was my reason to let Repin show you the photos. I never wanted to cause you such a pain, but I needed you out of there! I'm starting to believe that I made a horrible mistake. Perhaps it was a real car accident. Everything seems to be in order with the police investigation.”

“How could it be a mistake? He's a murderer! He killed all our family and fucked me all what he wanted just because I look like my uncle! Do you have any idea how dirty I feel? He told me he had not ordered the murders and I believed him! I pitied him and even comforted him because he felt bad and sad because of Uncle Roger!”

“Roger and Lintorff's relationship was not easy. It was a minefield built by both sides. They loved to fight just to fix it in the bedroom. Most of the time Roger was playing with his feelings or his jealousies, insecurities and Lintorff always answered in a violent way, when in fact he was like a poor puppy following him everywhere. He was obsessed with my brother and forgave him many things that I would have never accepted, not even from your mother. In a way we used him to achieve our goals, Guntram. I remember one night I was working late, I think it was 1986 or 1987, when Lintorff came to the bank in Paris looking for Roger. He had worked non stop for over 64 hours, depriving himself of sleep, flying directly from Shanghai, just to be on time for Roger's birthday as he had promised he would. Roger had left with a secretary, a hot looking girl. He asked me if I knew where he was because he was not at home of course, his wife was working in the hospital, and I didn't know what to tell him. I felt bad for him. Really Guntram, I felt bad because there I saw how he really was: just a man desperate to be loved by someone. He would have gone to Hell for my brother.”

“He was always very generous and careful with me; tender to an incredible point. Never giving me flowers or saying romantic things, but in his own way, he was checking that I was taking my medications, that I was not cold or that no one was rude to me. When we started to date, he was always thinking in me before him and I loved him for that because he made me feel respected. Sometimes I believe that he loved me so much that he was hurting himself with his devotion.”

“Do you still love him?”

“I'll get over it. I got over Constantin. I long for a new start, papa.”

“You didn't answer my question. Do you love him?”

“I guess so, but it's over. I will not return with him! He's a bad person and he is dangerous for you!”

“Forget about me, son. I'm old enough as to take care of myself. Since you're with me, your health deteriorates day by day. You sleep bad, are permanently nervous, sad and afraid. Perhaps, I'm not what you need.”

“NO! I want to stay with you!”

“I also do, but you're twenty-three years old and almost had your life organized. Lintorff took you as his Consort and offered to share his children with you. It's an important position in the Order. In his eyes, he married you the best as he could!”

“Are you his lawyer now?”

“Old habits die hard. One of my first clients and the most problematic,” Michel laughed. “All I want to say is that you have to carefully think about your future. Think on yourself only, not in me, the family or any other person. I will support any decision you make.”

“I must be a big disappointment for you, father. I have not finished school, achieved nothing as painter, favourite whore of a Russian mobster and former substitute whore of a German mobster. Let's do not mention that I can't even run after the bus and take more drugs than a junkie. Ah, I'm gay too.” Guntram spoke very slowly and his father only looked at him for a long time.

“Your life didn't turn out as I expected, that's true. I hoped that you would study a career, get a job, a wife, children perhaps and that would be all. Nothing more. You would have died when you were more than 70, probably loved by all the people who knew you but forgotten two days after. Graveyards are full with nice people, Guntram. But no, you decided to move to London to study Art History with great success, had an exhibition in one of the best galleries there with excellent critics and everything sold out, before you were twenty-two years old. Survived what would have killed most people and accepted your illness with more courage than many men I know. You returned to school and did your best to finish all what you could and continued to paint, this time under the tutelage of one of the most renowned art commissars in Europe, have one portrait at the Cardinal's gallery in the Vatican, next to the great artists at twenty-three and sold two other works for the Vatican collections. Finally you were in a collective exhibition and got one bad review over five goods, and your pieces were sold, because of the scandal it was. Not what I expected from you at all.”

“Father, I…”

“Let me finish, Guntram. It's my turn to speak,” Michel said very crossed and Guntram looked down ashamed. “Your choice of boyfriends leaves a lot to be desired, especially regarding your first one, but I can't really blame you if you were only 18 when you met him and the second wanted to marry you and endangered his position as
Hochmeister
of one of the most terrifying secret societies known to mankind. The man wanted to give you his children too. Almost all high society in Zurich respects and likes you. Tita von Olsztyn was almost strangling that critic with her Louis Vuitton's leather purse. Ah, I forgot to mention that she has two of your paintings in her collections, next to a Picasso or a Miró. It's really not what I expected from my child in my wildest dreams.”

“Father…”

“I thought you were going to be a grey little man like most of us, but you outshone us all. When your time comes, Guntram, you could look Death in the face and tell her, “I go now, but how I lived my life!” I never thought that my son could be so much and achieve so much only with his talent and courage. I'm proud of you as I'm ashamed of myself for not being with you when you needed me most.”

“But I'm…”

“What are you? An artist? I'm glad that you have talent. Gay? I will not treat you differently for that! I'm heterosexual and does it make a difference for you? Perhaps one day you'll give me grandchildren or not; that's in God's hands. Didn't finish school? Well, stop whining and finish it! Or paint something good! No one asked the great artists for their credentials! You are sick? Well, it's genetic. Hit me and then, take your medications, boy.”

“I never thought you accepted me,” Guntram mumbled, ashamed that he had thought that his father barely tolerated him and despised him for his sexual condition. 'Honestly, I never knew or considered it till I met Constantin or Konrad. I guess I couldn't like any other man or woman after him.'

“Of course I love you, you robbed my heart the minute you opened your eyes and looked at me. Now, go to bed, it's very late and you have to start to work again. Don't let your fear of two men rule the rest of your life.”

“You're right, papa, but I only fear one. The other, I don't know what to think about him,” Guntram said dejectedly and kissed his father good night.

“Good night. Don't forget your pills and don't stay up late reading,” Michel caressed his son's cheek as if he were still a child, chuckling at his son's frustrated groan at being treated like a toddler.

Aschaffenburg

“Hello, Guntram,” Konrad said timidly, surprised at his own embarrassment and shyness. He couldn't get his eyes away from the small form sitting in that faded wooden bench, his hands, before diligently drawing, had frozen in mid air at hearing his voice. He was not like that!

Guntram raised his eyes from the paper on the brink of a panic attack and glanced at his father, sitting next to him, reading some papers for a case he was preparing. He wanted to tell him to run, but he saw immediately Goran's frame some thirty metres away and a mountain in a dark suit other forty metres away. On the road over the elevated area of the park was parked a huge Mercedes limo. He elbowed his father with clear desperation, but the man only said “wait, I have to finish this page.”

Konrad approached Guntram, realising that that the youth's face had turned ashen at seeing him.

“Good afternoon, my Griffin,” Lacroix was unaffected to see Lintorff standing there while he gathered his papers and placed them back in his leather portfolio. “Guntram, where are your manners? You should say at least hello and congratulate his Grace for the coming of his children. I hope everything went satisfactory, Sire.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lacroix. The children are in good health, but still in New York,” Konrad answered in a polite voice and Guntram fell totally abashed. How did Konrad know his father's new identity? Had Constantin betrayed him as punishment? If Goran was here, then the outcome could not be good. The noise of his heart beat was deafening and he felt the urge to throw up his lunch.

“Mr. Lacroix, may I speak with your son?” Konrad asked, understanding that exactly as the man had predicted, Guntram was on his side and he needed his support if he wanted him back.

“Of course, my Griffin. Guntram, when you're finished here, ask your consort to come for coffee at home,” Lacroix rose from his side of the bench, doing his best to ignore Guntram's look of total panic and his ragged breathing and walked toward the exit and through the sharp road that led to the private back entrance of his house.

“May I sit?” Konrad asked to the silent Guntram, his eyes still fixed on him, 'like a frightened kitten.'

“There are no hard feelings between your father and me. We have settled our differences and we are in peace. No harm will fall upon him. This I swear on my children's heads. Please, let me speak with you.”

Guntram could only nod and move to the farthest end of the bench, fixing his blue eyes on the water.

Konrad had thought many times over about his words during his overnight flight from New York, but the four different speeches he had prepared died in his brain the moment he saw Guntram obviously afraid of him. 'Once more, Jerôme, I mean Michel Lacroix, is right. Silence is better.' He fished his smartphone from the depths of his breast pocked and switched it on, looking for his children's photos folder, opened it and offered to Guntram.

“The babies arrived on the 16th. They're just perfect. Do you want to take a look?”

Hesitantly, Guntram took the device and only saw a big blurry white and pink spot; the next photo was not better and the third also.

“I can't see a thing,” he said very timidly.

“My hand was shaking too much to get a clear shot. The next pictures are better. The nurses took them.”

Konrad took the phone back, looking visibly embarrassed at his clumsiness, but Guntram softly smiled when he was certain that the man was not looking at him. Some twelve photos later, Konrad found the perfect images. “Here you are.”

Guntram was speechless when he saw the first of the very wrinkled and partly red babies. His eyes were furiously closed against the light and he had a mop of dark brown hair and his mouth and chin looked exactly as his father's. “That's Klaus Maria, the eldest by fifteen minutes. The next should be Karl Maria,” Konrad used a very gentle voice and carefully invaded Guntram's space to change the photo from another baby with a blonder hair, sleeping totally oblivious to the world. “Yes, that's him. A
Siebenschläfer
, excuse me, dormouse. He's very peaceful compared to his brother. Klaus is very temperamental and has zero patience when it comes to his bottle. If you try to fool him with a dummy, he becomes more enraged.”