As promised... Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Guntram de Lisle's Diary.

November 2^nd, 2008

Today Coco came up with the most crazy but incredible idea; to make a tour across the United States to promote the children's tales first book -English Edition- and the second book -German and English Editions together, ready to be released on November 15^th -. She says that the second book's edition is very large for her publishing standards -over 35.000 copies- and we need to be active to get rid of it. She wants to go to New York, Boston, Massachusetts, Washington and maybe San Francisco. She has everything organized and I will fly alone. Ostermann agrees with her idea, but I should be back on December 3^rd on time for the opening in Vienna.

I was never in the United States -as baby for a few months doesn't really count-, and I'm dying to see it. From Argentina to Europe and never out. I want to explore more of the world on my own too. What concerns me is that the whole trip would take around two weeks and that's a lot of time to leave the children alone. They're used to see Konrad go away for three weeks, but they always have a bad time when I'm not around, even if it's for a day.

Also Dr. van Horn has been pestering me with something about staying “out of the spotlight” for a few months till the arrhythmia is better, but I'm going to a nice place like New York. He can say a thing against it.

The only problem is who we know. He's going to explode the minute I show him the itinerary and schedule of presentations, but it's not as much as it looks. Only a few nice words and then, signing books for five hours. He does more in a day than I do.

I guess it's a matter of well presenting (selling) the package, when he's in a fantastic good humour.

I'll ask Jean Jacques if he can help me and cook his beloved Rouladen for tomorrow. That should appease the beast.

* * *

November 4^th

It's impossible to discuss anything with Konrad! He's like a stubborn pig! Yes, exactly as that. Try to get a pig inside the barn if it doesn't want to! You push and the thing just stays there, rooted to the ground.

Yesterday night, Konrad returned home from Brussels in a good mood and I thought that it was a good time to tell him that Coco had everything arranged and booked -she's fast but her secretary more- to start on the 15^th in New York and take a night flight on the 1^st to be in Vienna on the 2^nd, ready for the final inspection and the vernissage on the 3^rd, exactly as Ostermann wanted.

Did Konrad von Lintorff behave like a normal human being? NO, he behaved like Konrad von Lintorff.

We were having dinner alone and he frowned at Dieter when he presented the dish (Rouladen) to him. “What is this?”

The poor man didn't know how to answer and paled, so I interceded to save his skin (and job) “It's Rouladen, exactly as you like them. Jean Jacques prepared them.”

“This comes from a microwave, Guntram,” he grunted. “Leave it here,” he growled at the poor Dieter who placed the dish in front of him and ran away.

How the hell does he know? Jean Jacques had to fly to Cologne to record five episodes of his new TV show (something like Hell's Kitchen but in German and he's one of the judges; and four episodes more of another show: “Cooking in the Old Times”) but he left everything ready and the sous-chef knows how to do it. Konrad was just being childish.

“I don't think so, Jean Jacques left this morning, but Johan can cook too. You liked the soup and the salad so far.”

“Anyone can cook some broccoli and almonds soup. This is different.”

I would love to see you in the kitchen fighting with the broccoli. Five minutes before you call for help. “Konrad, it tastes very well.”

“I refuse to eat from a tupperware. I work hard and I deserve to have something fresh on my table when I'm home. This is my house, not a hotel.”

I see now why it took him 50 years to get married. No woman nowadays would wait for him with the “fresh food” in the oven. Does he think that I'm going to do it? Well, he has it all wrong.

“Konrad, it's only for one night and you agreed to this. Jean Jacques is an artist and needs new challenges. The option was that he was going away and starting his own restaurant in Paris. Alexei did his best to convince him to return to us.”

“I know, and now I have to suffer for it.”

Konrad can be really melodramatic, and for someone who had been forced to eat a despicable piece of meat, he had stuffed in half of the dish.

“There's something I wanted to tell you, Konrad.” I waited after dessert to open negotiations -his favourite vanilla ice cream with a hot sauce of blueberries and raspberries- and when he was in the library, keeping company to his cognac- looking relaxed and happy to cuddle me in the sofa- to speak up.

“About time you decided to tell me what you're after tonight. I was thinking that you were going to keep the suspense till tomorrow,” he smirked. “I'm listening.”

“Coco van Breda, my publisher wants that I make a tour to present my new book and sign some copies in the USA. I will fly on the 15^th and be back on the 4^th in the afternoon.”

“I thought you had to be in Vienna on the 3^rd.”

“I fly from New York to Vienna.”

“All right, tell me about it,” he told me softly and I bought it like the idiot I am.

“It's a big tour, starting in New York on November 16^th in a Barnes and Noble Store. According to Coco is a huge place and I will only have to sign copies for the children and mothers for five or six hours. One children's author will make a short introduction or read a story.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Then we go to Washington for three days, Maine for one, Chicago for three days and we fly to San Francisco for another five days. The agent thinks he can add something in Sacramento for free those days. We fly back to Cambridge and from there to New York where I'll fly back to Vienna.” I showed him the paper with the schedule and he took a look at it.

“It's a great opportunity for me. This is a very large edition, Konrad. Over 35.000 copies.”

“I see. Which company are you flying?”

“I don't know. I guess it's Delta or American Airlines. I have an American citizenship so I will have no problems with the controls. I always wanted to see it.” I said smiling and convinced that he was buying it.

“Do you have list of the hotels she's sending you?”

“Yes, of course,” and I gave it to him.

“I should be glad this woman has not sent you by a low cost company,” he mumbled after reading it. What is his problem with Westin Corp.? “Is to be expected from some successful shopkeepers. They always keep the same policies,” he said disdainfully, returning the paper to me. “One last thing, Guntram. Do you have permission from your doctor to fly for over eight hours and be on the run for fifteen days?”

“No, but there's nothing wrong with it.”

“No, of course not,” he said sarcastically. “Tell me another thing, are you planning to sleep with Mirko Bregovic? Labour laws forbid me to ask him to sleep on the floor.”

“What?”

“Are you planning to share your bed with Mirko Bregovic? The hotel bookings only mention you and no one else. I don't know if he snores,” he added sarcastically.

“I'm not taking him with me!”

“Then you have your answer, dear,” he told me sweetly and I looked at him in disbelief. “No,” he clarified for idiot me in case I didn't understand him.

“You can't forbid this. I have a compromise with her. She has made a huge investment in this.”

“How many books did you sell so far? In German only.”

“I'm not sure. Five Editions; about 25.000, I guess.”

“And we are speaking of the English speaking countries' market now? 35.000 copies is nothing.”

“We are speaking of 300.000 dollars invested!”

“A good necklace. And she plans to send you by trains and planes in economy class to three stars hotels, without security just to increase her profits? If I remember correctly your book costed around €29.”

“There are hundred of costs associated with the promotion!”

“Guntram, the answer is NO. I will not let you endanger your health for something so trivial. You, running in the snow in the middle of Washington DC just to get to a store, to be on permanent tension for six hours? Not in this life.”

“I will not let Coco down with this. You have no right to tell me what to do!”

“I'm your husband I decide what is best for your interests. I will not let you do it in this way. Van Horn would have never approved this crazy idea.”

“I'm 26 years old! I'm not a baby you can order around. Coco might lose money with this, after she had given me this opportunity.”

“Tell her that I will buy all the books for € 12 and distribute them by myself. See if she wants to give them up.”

“You have no right to do this. I want to go to America. I was never there.”

“I have nothing against a visit to New York or Salt Lake City. Take the plane, the children if you want, and stay for a week at the house in Manhattan. Visit the MoMA and check our collection there. It's all modern and I don't like it, but you may appreciate it. Bring something along if you like.”

“I want to do it on my own. I'm an adult!”

“An adult who has a serious heart condition and needs rest for at least half a year. Maybe we could go together to New York. The house is at Madison Avenue and I would be more comfortable if you're in a protected environment.”

“A protected environment?” I asked in shock.

“Or maybe you prefer to stay with me in the pent house at Fifth Avenue. Wonderful views over Central Park and it's very cosy. Big enough for two. This week without the children was very good for us and we could repeat it after the Christmas holidays. Three weeks with them could be very taxing for us. I almost died from a nervous breakdown when I was alone with them.”

“That was your own doing, Konrad.” I retorted very irked with him. “I want to go to America on my own, without you or a bodyguard. I'm old enough as to decide what I want to do.”

“Guntram, tell this woman to prepare an appropriate plan that includes real good lodging and travelling arrangements for you, show it to van Horn and then, we will reconsider it.”

I was too furious to send him to hell as he deserved. I glared at him and he just looked at me with his big blue eyes. It's hard to keep your fury when he does, but I did.

“Why don't you go to London? To a nice place like Harrod's? You can take the Dassault, fly there, stay in the house at Melbury and return in four or five days. You can visit the Museums and the galleries, too. It's a short flight and you will be comfortable. Do you have any idea how horrible is to fly crammed for six or seven hours, praying that you're not placed between two elephants?”

“Do you know it?” I asked in disbelief.

“No, but I've heard stories,” he told me with sufficiency. “Your health prevents you to take such a stupid risk. Fly to America if you want, but with my rules and your doctor's permission, otherwise, you stay at home.”

I stormed out the library and went to our bedroom. I changed myself and slid under the covers and turned off the light to sleep. He came later and joined me in the bed, trying to catch me into one of his bear hugs. I squirmed and moved to the border.

“Don't be upset with me Guntram, because I'm protecting your interests and you know it well. Tomorrow, I will speak with this woman's husband and he will set things right,” he told me and turned around.

“You have no right to do this!”

“Your manager is Ostermann and I doubt very much Mr. “Artists should eat caviare every day” has agreed to this nonsense.”

Just like this he ended the conversation. Today, Ostermann yelled with me in the morning for “selling myself so cheap! I've just sold two of your pieces for 85.000 euros and you want to play the penniless student? This is the last time you arrange anything at my back!”

Later, Coco's secretary phoned me while I was in the studio and told me that the American tour had been cancelled as my doctor had strictly forbade it and that Coco had no idea that my condition was so delicate. She was going to call me later because she was speaking with her public relations manager (?) and she was sure to get me something in London at the end of the month.

Guess what? Half an hour ago Coco phoned me when I was painting in my studio at home to tell me that how sorry she was for not taking into account my health condition -I'm not a bloody cripple!- and coming with such a demanding schedule on me. I look so young, energetic and willing to do things, that she didn't realise it. Anyway, she wants to know if I want to go to London because the public relations manager “managed” to get me a signing at Foyles', at Charing Cross. Easy job, I should read a story and perhaps, if I want and my hand is not too stressed, draw something for the children and sign some copies. It will be a 3 hours presentation, to be repeated on the next day. On a weekend so the children can come. November 15^th and 16^th from 4 to 7 p.m.

I guess I have my orders, now.

* * *

November 16^th, 2008

London

I left Zurich on Friday afternoon, still a bit sore with Konrad because of his meddling -although he prefers to call it “defence of your interests”- with my business. As usual, the poor Mirko Bregovic will have to baby sit me, along with Soren Larsen -already got four signed copies of the second volume for his daughters and nieces- and Jan Hartick. I'm supposed to stay in Konrad's house in Melbury Road and be nice as a kitten.

I kissed the boys goodbye in the morning and told them that I would be back on Monday afternoon -no question about flying at night after all the stress of sitting for three hours to meet people. I should be a good boy, sleep in my bed and take the plane back from London with Ferdinand-. The boys promised to be nice to their father and nanny. They have already planned to take Konrad to the movies. In a way, I pity him; they want to watch Kung Fu Panda or Ice Age 3. I think that's enough punishment.

Strangely, Konrad had not ran away to his office after breakfast. “I suppose you have to go the studio. Drive with me. There's something I want to give you.”

Surprised, I asked him five minutes to look for the portfolio I wanted to show to Ostermann and he didn't complain. Out of breath, I entered in his car where he was already playing with his blackberry. Sometimes, I think someone has an addiction problem. I sat next to him, doing my best to accommodate the big portfolio, without touching him.

“What's that?”

“Just sketches for some projects. It's a new series I'm working in and what I told you about this project for the operas. I want to show them to Ostermann and get an opinion.”

“Guntram, I realise that you're upset with me about London, but I only have your best interests in my mind. I spoke with the doctor and he told me it was impossible what you wanted to do. He says that maybe in six months more, you could do it. I went mad when I saw that you wanted to risk yourself again. You know I can't lose you.”

With those words, he melted my anger towards his actions and I was speechless when he said “I'm sorry.” I kissed him on the lips briefly and gave him a light punch on the arm. He chuckled utterly relieved.

“I have something for you. I thought maybe you need it,” he told me shyly and offered me a small package, wrapped in blue.

I opened it and inside was a fountain pen, a Montblanc, and I didn't know what to say. “Thank you, it's very beautiful.”

“I hope you can use it many more times, Maus,”

“I thought you disliked the idea,”

“Not at all. I think you're very talented and it's a good thing people knows your work. I always liked your books and perhaps a few children learn to appreciate art with them. You can never know what draws their attentions. I hated the idea of you risking your health for nothing. I hate when people take advantage of your kindness and good will. You're too good for this world, Maus. I only want to protect you.”

“Wasn't this one of your psychotic strikes? Like the last time I was in London? Did you force Milan to take me to all those places?”

“He was only doing his work. One second of inattention and that viper of Olga Repin was trying to lure you into one of her little wars with her husband. Guntram, I can't lose you again. Do you understand this?”

“Konrad, I don't want to go away either. I need you and the boys in my life.” I kissed him again and he returned the kiss with passion.

I leaned my head against his shoulder and stayed there till the car left me in front of my teacher's studio.

I took the plane, the “small one” the Dassault to London with Mirko, Hartick and Larsen. I had to drive with Mirko and got the master bedroom as before, not a guest bedroom like the last time I was here (no complaints at all; it was an incredible room)

Today in the morning, I went to the National Portrait Gallery and stayed there till one when Mirko dragged me out for lunch and then, he left me alone to buy a present for the boys; I know they want the airport from Lego and the school from Playmobil. I'm glad I got them both. At 3:45, Mirko accompanied me to the big book store and I didn't know what to do. Fortunately, he took the matter into his hands and grunted to one of the employees to get the manager because “Mr. de Lisle is here”. The man and a woman -Coco's public relations manager- came to us and she thanked me for being so punctual and told me that everything was ready. Just when I was walking towards the children's section, the store manager caught me and told me we were going to the second floor, to the Art and Leisure Section.

“This is a book for kids,” I protested.

“Yes, we sold many there, but the bust was in the Arts section. Our five hundred copies were sold in less than a month.”

“Both volumes?”

“Only the first, when we heard you were coming, we decided to reserve the second volume for today and tomorrow. We already have a long queue upstairs. I had no idea you were so young.”

“It's in the photo and the biography in the back cover,” I answered.

“I didn't think it was real.”

My soul sank to my feet literally when I saw about 40 people in front of the table they had set for me, with a pile of books and a poster with both books behind. There were some mothers with children, but no more than 15 of them; the rest were people on their late 20's and early 40's. I gulped when they looked at me with a mix of surprise and admiration.

All right, Konrad was right, standing in front of so many persons can be stressful. Heck, the closing speech in the school was easier to give than standing in front of those strangers.

The Public Relations Manager -thank God- knew what to do and she took me by the arm and crossed the crowd like Moses crossed the Red Sea and sat in the table, forcing me to do the same.

The people gathered around the table and were nice enough as to let the children occupy the front row. She made a short speech telling how fortunate they were to have a talented young artist like myself, with several works hanging at the Vatican and in great private collectors hands, looking into the classics we all loved so much and bringing them to life in such a moving way.

I believe I never blushed so much in my life. My great words: “Thank you very much for coming. If you please would let the children come forward.”

The people looked disappointed at my oratory skills but I'm a painter, not a politician; they talk nice. The children didn't wait to be told again and rushed towards the table and a book landed in front of me and I asked from whom it was and a small girl told me it was a present from her grandmother and that she had liked the mouses and lizards from Cinderella's story.

Konrad was right again; you never know what a child can like.

I took the pen out of my jacket, glad to have some ink cartridges with me, and quickly draw two mouses and a salamader (that was on the story) looking at the “To Eliza, with affection, Guntram” dedication. All of the children were fascinated and wanted a drawing too.

I only drew for the children and fortunately four of them were sharing a book, but each one said what he liked and I did my best to please them all. The grown ups were also looking carefully how I was working and many men and woman tried to engage me in a conversation, but Mirko, standing next to me, scared them away.

I wrote non stop till 7 p.m, when I noticed that I still had a queue of 30 people more. I lost count how many times I wrote the same line “To X, with affection, Guntram.” Every time I was drawing for a child, I had like ten adults peering to see it.

The manager was very happy and said something like “at this rate we finish our stock tomorrow morning. I'll ask the other stores to send us some reinforcements. We sold today over 250 copies!”

Tomorrow, I'm supposed to start to sign at 1 p.m and finish at 6 p.m.

When I was finishing my work, I was almost dead on my feet and was not making any more eye contact with the people. Mirko had been replaced by Soren Larsen. Distractedly, I took a book from the pile and when I opened the first page to write the dedication, a voice said. “To Constantin, please.”

My blood froze and I looked at the man and there was Boris Malchenko, Constantin's former secretary-assistant in Paris. I “lived” with the man for three weeks and he was always very kind to me.

“Constantin is my son. He's four months old and I want to give him the books when he grows older. How are you, Guntram?”

“Hello, Boris. I'm very surprised to see you here.”

“I'm in London for business and I heard about your book. It's very beautiful and I'm glad you did some parts of it at home.”

Soren Larsen was immediately on top of me and looking at Boris with a killing look. “It's all right Larsen. Mr. Malchenko is a member,” I said and he backed off... to phone someone.

“Would you like to have a coffee with me when this is over, Guntram?”

I hesitated because this is strictly forbidden, but I said. “Yes, of course. We can have something around. I'll just check with my security.”

“Tell them that we can go to the Savoy. They know it as the Duke also goes there. I have a table at 8 p.m. at the River Restaurant. I can drive you there.”

“No, thank you. I have the car with me.”

He took the book and went away and Soren returned. When I finished the signing it was more 7:45 p.m and I didn't have time to change myself or anything before dinner. I told Soren about the plan and he said that it was OK, that the place was secure and if he was a member, it was all right.

I shrugged and crossed my fingers that my jacket was enough for the Savoy. Soren drove me and went inside with me, telling me that Mirko was away “on business” and Hartick had to go to the house. The maître already knew who I was because he only said: “follow me please, Viscount.” I truly hate it. Malchenko had a table on one side and he was kind enough as to have a side table “for goons” where he had two of his boys and a place for my own one. Sometimes, I don't understand them at all.

I excused myself for the delay and he only smiled and said, “you had quite a fan club there. Tomorrow, will be worse.”

“I hope not. I really don't know what to tell when someone asks me from where the inspiration comes or what I was trying to tell with a green brocade dress for Cinderella. Nothing! I liked the colour and copied the dress from a painting I saw, but I'm babbling as usual.”

“I'm glad to see you again.”

“I'm so sorry about what happened. I had no idea of Mr. Repin's troubles with the Tax Office.”

“Guntram, it wasn't your fault at all. We all have too many things around and if you're not careful, it catches up with you. You can't run away from your destiny for ever.”

“I only knew what happened through the news and the Duke didn't let me read the newspapers because my health was in a bad shape. What happened in Smolensk?”

“Repin was betrayed by his own wife and henchman. Olga Fedorovna gave the authorities information about his dealings with RusTrans and RepOil. It was never so much as the news told. Only a few millions taxes failed to declare. In total, fifteen or twenty million dollars. Someone filtered the wrong numbers to the press and the government didn't correct them because it suited our politicians to show that they were doing something against corruption. Mr. Repin was too clever to be caught in something so stupid as this. He was arrested in his house in St. Petersburg and sent to a prison in Smolensk without any kind of legal representation. His lawyers' lives were threatened and some of them had to run away from the country or they would have been imprisoned too.”

“I don't really know what happened in Smolensk, Guntram. I only know that he was stabbed to death in one of the yards. The doctor tried to save his life at the infirmary, but he bled to death. Very strange because Mr. Repin had a fantastic training from his time in the KGB and never gave up training.”

“Constantin was in the KGB?”

“He was the son of the General Secretary for the Black Sea provinces. Of course, he was part of the KGB. Where do you think he met Oblomov?”

“He told me they studied together.”

“Yes, they went to the Moscow University together, but after their training. Constantin was an agent in Paris from 1976 to 1980 when he returned to the URSS to study. He was very young and extremely clever. More than a French capitalist spoke willingly to him and the Soviet government learned a lot about the Order.”

“I never knew it,” I said shocked. But it makes sense, according to Alexei you had to be in the Party if you wanted to achieve something and being part of the KGB was the best way to do it. “How old was he?”

“I guess he was 19 years old when he started, right after the military service. In his line of business you have to show a lot of strength if you want to be respected and Mr. Repin had not a single bone of mercy in his body.”

“I never wanted this end for him. His death was a great shock for me. No matter what everybody tells me, he was a good and loyal friend to me.”

The waiter brought our orders and served us and I was glad to have something else to do than talking about what has been eating me up since Vienna.

“I never saw Mr. Repin so happy than when he was with you,” Malchenko said and I looked at him in shock. “I met several of his boyfriends in the past and all of them were a source of trouble and disappointment than joy. With you, he was happy, not so sour or brooding like always. He loved Arts so much because beauty was the best impersonation of life.”

“He told me he loved Sergeant and that my style was similar to his, but different. I miss him, too. We used to write to each other a lot in 2005 and 2006 and in a way, he formed my taste for Arts. Most of the books I read were because Constantin had recommended them to me. Most of my painting from 2005 onwards came from his ideas or suggestions and still it's like that. I could draw well before I met him, but nothing else. My big artistic leap came after we met in London. I questioned myself many things after it. When the children were born, I stopped painting for a while, but I resumed it stronger than before when I broke up with the Duke. Constantin convinced me to paint to exorcise my demons or to escape reality when it was too much. Without him, I would have jumped in front of a train,” I confessed finally.

“I had no idea that it was so bad for you. You were very stiff when I mentioned your rank.”

“I never wanted to be named this. I only loved Konrad. I didn't know I was the bloody Griffin's Consort till September 2003 when Constantin told me. I didn't know that I was in office since Easter 2003. I always thought that “consort” was an elegant way to say “boyfriend”.

“Yes, I suppose so. I never saw you at the Council meetings and the Hochmeister, the Griffin, never granted you such power.”

“And I'm glad for it. I have no wish to be involved in whatever they're up to. This is not my game. I'm just an artist. Nothing else.”

“Mr. Repin was truly in love with you. I saw him going to that small bakery by himself to get you those mini croissants you liked so much every morning you were together. He also loved them when he was a child.”

“I know,” I smiled at the memory. “How do you know it?”

“He lived in that flat his first eight or nine years; it belonged to his mother, Catherine Arseniev. We used to have those croissants on weekends only if we were very good during the week and we had to fight hard to keep my sisters away.”

“I beg you pardon?”

“Didn't he tell you? We know each other since infancy and this is why he chose me as his assistant in 2005. May I ask you a personal question?”

“Yes, of course. We shared the roof.” I answered, smiling weakly.

“Do you think you loved him?”

I was taken aback. I never expected this.“He was a great friend for me, but that's not love, Boris. I was very happy with him too, because he knew and understood me better than anyone else, including Konrad, I mean, the Duke.”

“Do you think you could have loved him if you had met him before the Duke?”

“That's not a valid assumption. It never happened so it's just a guess.” I said, trying to evade the question.

“What if you would have met him in Buenos Aires?” he pressed and I looked at him in shock, but he didn't cast his dark eyes away.

“I don't know, probably yes, I would have had an adventure with him and maybe fall in love with him, but his business were always despicable for me. If Constantin would have been nothing more than a Russian engineer with a regular job, I would have probably fell for him. If you overlooked the fact of who he was, he possessed a dashing personality and incredible intelligence. But this is just a speculation. I saw the Duke and I liked him instantly. Falling in love with him took some time, but we are still together after all and perhaps till one of us dies.”

“Yes, you have been and excellent Consort to our Griffin. The prince zu Löwenstein had you in his greatest esteem and many of the associates I know, were very impressed with the way you educate the children. They saw them in Vienna with you.”

“I was lucky that on that particular day they have decided to behave,” I chuckled. “It's not always like that, Boris. What happened with Mr. Repin's children?”

“They live with their mother in London, in a flat at Knighstbridge.”

“What happened with the house at Ilchester Place? Did the Russian government take it away?”

“No, they can't touch it. As I said, what they could only find were less than 20 million dollars failed to declare and that was paid with what was in one of his accounts. The rest is in a trustee fund for the children's use when they turn twenty-one years old.”

“So the mother manages that money?”

“No, Mr. Repin left everything into the hands of some lawyers in Brussels. She can't touch a single penny of that money and the lawyers pay her a generous alimony. He would have never let her come near their money.”

“But she's entitled to half of his fortune. The Duke told me she had money deposited outside Russia.”

“Most of Mr. Repin's fortune was into different societies or figureheads. His wife has no access to his fortune by his own will. Do not be concerned about the children's future. They're well provided.”

“I'm glad about it.”

“I heard Olga Fedorovna plans to sell some of the paintings she had next January at Mountpleasant's. The portrait of Sofia is included. I was thinking to bid for it as my wife loved it. There's another; three kids with a large dog that she loves so much. There are also some Miró, Picasso, two Degas, one Monet that was in the house in London, among others. Didn't you receive the catalogue?”

“Yes, maybe, I don't know. I never look at them.” I said with my mind in turmoil, well overheated would be a more appropriate term. “Why would she sell her daughter's portrait? She asked for it and paid it generously.”

“Olga Fedorovna never liked you Guntram. Mr. Repin considered very seriously to leave her and go away with you. She would have only received 200 million dollars instead of the billions she was expecting to get. You were serious competition for her, indeed. Had you just said a thing about wanting to leave the Duke, Mr. Repin would have taken you and to hell with the consequences.”

“I asked myself many times if I didn't commit the biggest mistake of my life by staying with Konrad, especially after my stay with Constantin in London. Then, the boys came and I loved them since the first day. We had troubles during the past two years, but I stayed for Klaus and Karl and I don't regret it because we finally could sort out our differences. I didn't ask you, how are things for you inside the Order?”

“Fine,” he shrugged. “I was a very, very bad boy and now I am punished,” he told me ironically.

“Are you in troubles?” I asked and I thought 'here it comes, I have to speak with Konrad on his behalf'.

“Just for the next two years. I didn't tell you were with Constantin Ivanovich and I am shunned from the Glorious Easter Meeting till 2010. I have to pay a fine too to the Foundation for my “lack of cooperation”. As I told you, I was a very bad boy.”

“I don't know if Konrad would hear me but I could speak with him. After all, it was my idea not to tell him.”

“I'm not a snitch and I'm old enough as to decide if I rat a friend or not. I told you the truth when I said that my loyalties lay with the Arseniev family before the Order. In a way I'm saving me two boring meetings. You can't really do a thing against the Council's decisions and you just raise your hand like a monkey when Lintorff wants to be cheered up. Things will not be half of the funny they used to be without Repin around. He was really making Lintorff and von Kleist sweat,” he chortled at the memory and I looked at him surprised. Is he so sporty?

“Is there something you would like to tell Constantin Ivanovich?” He asked me out of the blue and I blushed because I have a hundred of pending things regarding Constantin.

“Are you a medium by any chance?” I laughed to hide my embarrassment.

“No, but people always wants to talk with the departed,” he told me as if it were of no importance, dropping the other subject -his punishment removal- out of the agenda and that was a first in a long time. When someone comes to me, it's because he thinks that I'm some kind of “postman” and the prick doesn't give up till he gets the mandatory“I will do my best to inform the Griffin about your situation” sentence. Assholes all of them!

I doubted for a minute if I should speak my mind, but this was the only opportunity I had to speak with one of Constantin's friends. “Only that I'm terribly sorry about what happened and that he was very important in my life, more that he knows. That had it not been because of him, I would have ended everything and that I will be eternally grateful to him because he sent me back to Lintorff, sacrificing himself for my happiness. I feel very guilty for his death and I'm sorry he faced it alone and no one was there to mourn him. Where is he buried? In St. Petersburg?”

“In Smolensk. The family didn't claim the body and it was buried in a normal grave.”

“Why did she do it?” I asked anguished. I felt my eyes watering because no one deserved this.

“Why would she do it? She hated him and I guess she danced when she heard the news. I wanted to claim the body and give him a proper burial, but I was not a direct relative and the authorities denied me the authorization.”

“Constantin deserved much better,” I whispered.

“Tell me about your projects. Don't think about this any longer, Guntram. What's past is past.”

I was glad for the change of subject and we talked about my stuff, upcoming exhibition in Vienna, some new commissions and then, about nothing in particular. It was eleven when we finished and he offered me a ride, but I refused as probably Larsen had enough of Russians in his life.

Malchenko gave me a very Russian hug and patted me on the back with a “you're a good kid, pity it didn't work between you,” and drove away in his Rolls Royce. I had a more “modest” BMW with chauffeur and Larsen. Inside the car I looked at my bodyguard and asked him if he needed more information for his report.

“No need to, sir. You have met with a member and discussed nothing about the Order. It was a personal talk. If you want I can write that you had only dinner there.”

“You'll get into troubles with Mirko Bregovic.”

“No, if you don't tell a thing, sir.”

You know what? I'm sick of being spied on a permanent basis and I really didn't want to explain Konrad all what we said. On the other hand, I didn't want the other “blackmailing me” in the future. “I will keep my mouth closed but if you come to me with something, then it's your head which is going to roll.”

“I know.”

So this is how we agreed to keep both our mouths shut. I because I wanted to avoid the questioning and he because he preferred to avoid a long explanation of why I was eating with a former mobster's secretary.

I can't stop thinking about Constantin. I let him down. I was not for him when he needed me and he was always for me. He never told me “call me later” or “I'm busy”. I would love to have his forgiveness or see if he's fine where he's now. It kills me to know that he was thrown in an nameless grave when he had done so much for many artists. OK, he was a mobster, but his Foundation paid more than 250 scholarships each year. He was a great friend and I didn't see it coming. I feel very dirty because Konrad used me to plot against him. Only 20 millions and a good press campaign against him? That sounds very much like Konrad's doing. A prison fight? Who in his right mind would go against the top predator? I'm sure all of them knew who he was. OK, some of his competitors would have paid to eliminate Constantin, but who? Oblomov? I know nothing about their messes, but I feel Konrad lied to me once more. What was he doing in St. Petersburg when everything happened? A meeting because of Lehman Bros. situation? I find hard to believe it, unless the Americans were begging the Russians for money.

I feel very bad about Constantin. He deserved much better.

* * *

November 17^th

Monday afternoon, as agreed I took the plane back to Zurich, after spending the morning in the National Gallery still thinking about Constantin. Heck, I couldn't stop thinking about him during the whole Sunday and I was like absent during the signing. I drew things for the small ones, but kept my talk with the grown ups to the minimum. I just don't know what to tell them and at 9 p.m., the closing time, I was dead on my feet. When I was leaving, the manager gave me a cardbox full of notes from the people who had been there and I don't know what to do with them. I will read them, but should I answer them? It's a big box.

At five I was sitting in the plane and waiting for Ferdinand only with Mirko around because the other two bodyguards had disappeared. I looked at the many magazines spread over one of the tables distractedly and I saw a copy of an “Important Russian Contemporary Art Collection” catalogue from Mountpleasant's. I took it and started to pass the pages. I saw the forest from Monet I liked so much, estimated between 5 to 10 millions, several paintings I remembered from Constantin's house, some pop art and Chinese contemporary artists. Among the last were seven of my paintings; Sofia's portrait; the children and the dogs; the ladies in the Art classroom; the three dogs; a couple in a café; three of my last series of the children in the slum. I chortled when I saw the price they were valued; £80.000 per piece in that series. The portrait had costed £10.000 and now was starting in £65.000.

Olga Fedorovna will make a lot of money if she gets it. Constantin paid £20.000 for each one of them, but this is a price for a Hirst. She may hate me, but she knows how to make money out of me.

Konrad liked a lot the one with the children, but I don't think he would be so childish as to insist upon it. I mean, it was fine but more than £5.000 is too much. I was writing in my folder when Ferdinand entered in the plane and he greeted me very warmly.

“Konrad will be here soon. He's wrapping up something, but we will take off at 5:30 p.m. to be on time for dinner.”

“I had no idea he was here.”

“Surprise inspection visit it's called,” Ferdinand chuckled. “Relax Guntram, there were not many casualties this time. St. Claude is recovering well from the shock but told me that next time you are in London, you should give him a fair warning.”

“I'll do my best.”

“What do you have there?” he asked me. Old habits die hard and checking on the Consort is never a bad idea.

“It's an art catalogue.”

“Already choosing your Christmas present, Guntram?” he joked and I felt empty. It was hard to crack a smile.

“I'm in.”

“Are you in Mountpleasant's? Well, that's incredible, boy. Congratulations!”

“It's Constantin Repin's collection. Did you know that the Russian government cleared him from the tax evasion charges brought against him? I read it in Google.”

“No, I had no idea. It's not my problem. Why is his collection for sale then?”

“I suppose his wife wants to make some cash. Some pieces are impressive, Ferdinand.”

He took the magazine from my hands and looked at my works. “I'm very glad you're here finally. You really deserve it.”

“I just was in the right lot.”

I heard a soft whistle when he saw the values. “Too bad you didn't sell options on your work,” he chuckled like a child. “Guntram, I need to ask you something.”

“Sure, Ferdinand, but if Konrad is upset with you, there's nothing I can do.”

“No, Konrad loves me beyond all,” he joked. “I'm getting married with Cecilia next April and I need a good wedding present. I thought about jewels, a house, a nice trip, hell I even considered a puppy!” I laughed at the idea because he already has two bull mastiffs at home and I don't think that's Cecilia's idea of a pet. “But I have it finally: a painting.”

“Shouldn't you speak with Ostermann? He knows much more than I.”

“I want you to paint her portrait. As a surprise; you know her and I can steal her photo album. I want something that shows how special she is.”

“Ferdinand, after my last portrait, I've painted nothing in that sense and I'm doing my best to avoid any kind of commissions. It really went out of hand.”

“You would never do something like this! By the way, I liked Stefania's portrait very much.”

“No, Ferdinand. I like your wife very much as to ruin my friendship with her.”

“Nonsense. Please do it and I'll let Ostermann rob me all what he wants.”

“I can't take money from you.”

“All right, write the sum you like and I'll donate it to that priest in Argentina.”

“I have a wild imagination, Ferdinand,” I snorted, my resolution not so strong as before; Cecilia's green eyes are incredible with her dark hair and sun tanned skin. Colombian women are out of this world. Must be the Caribbean breeze in their blood.

“If Volcker paid 99.000, I can give you 120.000 Francs. Imagine all what you could do with it. Tax free. Look, this one with the girl on the bed is fantastic,” he told me, showing me the full page photo of Sofía's portrait.

“Does Cecilia really want a portrait?”

“Guntram, most of our ladies want one from you. Cecilia will be delighted to have one. I was thinking in something that can be placed in the living room, on top of the French chimney. There's one that Gertrud bought years ago and I took it just because she liked it so much, but I hate the thing.”

“It's a very good Mucha!” I said shocked.

“Anyway, you would be doing me a favour if I can get rid of that thing. Do you like it? You can have it. I looks like an outdated beer poster.”

“It represents Undine!”

“Say yes Guntram; money for your parish and a nice poster for your bedrooom.”

“Konrad is not ready for a Mucha at home,” I laughed. “Give it back to Gertrud if you hate it. Will look great at the Hamptons.”

“Never and my boys also hate it. Too feminine.”

“Then, sell it!”

“It's a fair trade, Guntram. You make the portrait and I pay the church. You get a check if the painting is suitable for my wife and kick your ass if not. Finally you get the Mucha for nothing.”

I sighed. “I hope I don't screw it up. Promise you will tell me if you hate it.”

“Don't worry about that. I'm a prissy customer.”

Konrad joined us a few minutes later with “there it's. I thought I had lost it,” when he saw the catalogue. He kissed me on the forehead briefly and started to tell Ferdinand that finally he was going to be able to buy the one he liked so much. Ferdinand told him about his idea and Konrad said that I should have dribbled till 150.000 because he can afford it and both laughed like lions. They started to discuss business and I focused my attention in the discarded magazine. I felt a little displaced and it irked me somewhat that he didn't ask me how things were in London.

We arrived at 9 p.m. and I was very glad to see the boys sleeping in their beds. The sight of them cast away Constantin's ghost for a few hours.

* * *

November 22^nd

I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel so sad and I don't know why. I'm working fine, the books are selling fine, the children are fine, Konrad and I are fine, but I'm not fine with myself.

I can't stop thinking about Constantin. It's not that I was in love with him, but he was a great friend and I miss him. I never had the time to mourn him -Konrad would have had a fit if I would have cried once more for him- or visited his grave.

I felt really bad when I learned that Sunday night, just by browsing Google that he had been cleared of all the accusations. I know who he was, but I can't help to feel dirty because I contributed -unaware- to the scheme to destroy him. He was generous to me and risked his position for me and Konrad destroyed him without a single regret.

I know Konrad had many reasons to do so, starting by the children's security -but I still don't believe that Constantin could have done something against them- to the “insult” of going to bed with me. We had nothing going on for over two years and he had married and dated many others in the meantime! He had no right to feel insulted. I don't belong to him!

Poor Constantin.

He was one of my best friends and the person who really understood me. Here, I'm nothing more than a nice flower vase that keeps the Griffin happy and productive and raises well his children. I'm just an extension of his will.

Constantin considered me as a person. “Crazy to an adorable point,” he told me once. “All artists are insane but your insanity is simply wonderful.”

I would really love to hear your comments (and critics too) Have a nice weekend. Tionne