TS 2 Part VI Chapter 2

Chapter 2

April 9^th, 2010

Austin

“You will love Siberia, angel. There is no other place in this earth where you can feel freedom so much as there.” Constantin turned around in the bed and took the book, full of pictures, to give it to Guntram. “Take a look by yourself. The sense of freedom is exhilarating.”

“Were people not sent there because they were against the czars? Like in Dostoevsky books,” Guntram asked with a raised eyebrow but accepted the folder muttering “thank you” before he opened it. “In my old geography book, Siberia was like a frozen hell.”

“Conditions outside the cities may be harsh but that was a century ago, and you will not live in a Gulag. It's a very nice house, away from the city and in the middle of the taiga forest. Near from the wells I bought five years ago and rebuilt from zero.”

“Near for a Russian is not the same than near for an Argentinean and much less for an European,” Guntram said with a small smile, looking at the pictures in the book Constantin had given him to familiarize with his new environment.

“Only fifty kilometres.”

“A hundred kilometres in a day. Far away for Argentineans even.”

Khanty Masyisk Airport

“Around the corner for a Russian,” Constantin laughed. “West Siberia is nice in summer and Khanty Mansiysk is a new, fast growing city built on mining profits.”

“The only problem is the winter.”

“Not at all, you light a fire under the car and the engine starts. German cars don't work very well as they can't stand more than -50ºC. Nothing like a good Kamaz truck to go everywhere.”

“Is that true?” Guntram asked in shock, partly convinced that Constantin was pulling his legs.

“Of course it is, but not always. The city reminds people to a Scandinavian resort. Contrary to many cities in Siberia -quickly and carelessly industrialized, and heavily polluted by now, almost like a Chinese city-, Khanty Mansiysk's council forbade to have industries in the city. It is surrounded by a National Park, crossed by river and people call themselves Ugorians. Winters are not so extreme as you think; the air has not so much humidity, therefore you don't feel cold so much.”

“Easy to say for a Russian. Alexei told me that -5º C was Springtime in St. Petersburg. “

“It's the same latitude as St. Petersburg but that city feels much colder. I lived there for many years and it was truly cold whereas in Khanty Mansiysk I never had problems. It's a continental weather, not Arctic. You will like the house and don't feel the cold at all. There are grouses and pheasants around and they are nice to watch. Once I saw an Arctic fox looking for food in the trashcans.”

“An Arctic fox in your trashcan?”

“They are completely white in Winter, furry and look like something escaped from a toy store. If they were in the market, they could beat the panda bears in no time,” Constantin joked and Guntram laughed as the man looked at him with adoration. “You look much better now.”

“I feel much better.” Guntram's laughter stopped. “This is true, Alexander. I was able to walk fast over the park with Massaiev and didn't feel any chest oppression or pain. I'm not lying when I say that I'm grateful to you. I didn't felt like this in a very long time. Since I came to Europe, in fact.”

“Very well, we inscribe you for the Biathlon next year or to this training course with reindeer once you get your “Authentic Siberian Man” title.”

“What?” Guntram chortled.

“It's just one day in the snow, being hit with a sac and a club and that's all. Businessmen have to do something when they come to the city. There is a conference centre and it's very popular in the oil industry with Lukoil around.”

“I meant the reindeer part. Are there reindeer around?”

“One of my neighbours has a farm and rents them to the tourists. Sometimes they invade my lands and once we found a very large alpha male trying to enter in the kitchen, but you will not get one, angel. They are smelly and clumsy animals. I had enough with that one as it was totally drunk from eating rotten apples.” Constantin watched Guntram smiling at his description, satisfied that the young man was opening himself more and more with each passing day.

After his first surgery, Guntram's general condition had started to improve and he looked much healthier than he had never seen him before, almost like when he was eighteen, so full of life and energy and Constantin had fell for him. 'Only a little more and we will be at home, my angel.'

“Our flight is scheduled in two days,” Constantin announced softly. “Is that all right for you?”

Guntram looked at him disoriented. Did he have a choice in the matter? Was this another trick? “We do as you want, Alexander,” he answered humbly.

“I can delay it for another day if you want. I saw you looking at this add for a concert in that place. Do you want to go?”

“Are you serious?”

“Why not? You have fulfilled your promise to me and I keep mine to you. All I want is a second chance with you.”

“It's a Spanish group. I guess I feel a bit homesick too,” Guntram admitted shyly.

“Heavy metal?”

“No, they're quite peaceful. My Metallica days are over since a long time ago.”

“Then, I can survive it,” Constantin answered with a smile. “Tell it to Massaiev and we will flight in four days time then.” Guntram launched himself at his arms and kissed him deeply and with gratitude, nothing calculated or restrained.

Constantin rearranged his back on the soft mattress to let the young man climb on top of him better. He put his arms around the bare back to secure his prey, but Guntram didn't notice his move as he was lost in his kisses, the back of his right hand caressing lovingly Constantin's cheek. With all his sexual desires awoken, the man's hands slid lower and rested on his partners' bottom and he only moaned when he started massaging his private parts, rearranging his position so Constantin could feel his own arousal.

'Does he really want a second round? That's a first,' the Russian briefly thought before delicately turning in the bed so he could be on top of his lover, still lost in his kisses. 'For some reason, he likes this posture more than any other.' He heard a soft whimper when he penetrated Guntram but the boy sought comfort in his arms as the fought against the pain and Constantin kissed him more deeply, taking his right hand so he wouldn't feel alone. 'Why is he so afraid of loneliness? Never all the things Lintorff did ever had any real effect upon Guntram, only his father's abandon and lies turned him toward me.' He felt the body under him relax and follow his slow cadence and increased his pace, enjoying the whispered “Constantin” in his ear as it felt like a balm for his soul. He felt Guntram coming under him and he couldn't hold himself any longer, filling him with his essence.

As it was becoming more and more usual, Guntram buried his face against his chest and huddled himself against his lover's body before falling once more asleep.

'Only two tickets and he becomes the sweetest creature I've ever known. I have to let him out of his cage now and then just to keep him happy and grateful to me,' Constantin considered as his fingers entangled themselves with the soft hair he loved so much. 'It's a fortunate coincidence that the baby will arrive around October, on time for his birthday.'

* * *

Massaiev took a discreet look at the boy sitting in his coach, deeply engulfed in his book about Isaak Levitan, oblivious to whatever happened around him. 'He is much better now, thank heavens. Boss is very pleased with him and he has not attempted to escape not a single time. Perhaps we can even take him to Moscow to visit the Tretyakov Gallery. He would like it and soon it will be a year since we got him. Even Lintorff is giving up his quest.'

'He looks much better than before with the dark hair. Good we are going to Siberia or the boss would have to kill every man around him. Black enhances his eyes and gives him a mysterious aura.' He leaned against the backrest of his seat and remembered how upset Guntram had been just at the mention of getting his hair dyed in black. “Do you want to go out of the house in the future?” Massaiev had shouted and Guntram nodded looking at him in fear. “I thought so. You can't go around looking like you do. A hair colour change is a small price to pay for some freedom. Siberia can be pretty isolated.”

Guntram only gulped and nodded. He remained silent all the time as the coiffeur prattled about how nice hair he had and that his original light brown was very nice, but all boys wanted black nowadays. “From an epidemic of blonds we went into a frenzy for dark Gothics. It will make you look paler than you are.”

He didn't open his mouth and let the coiffeur do his job and trim his hair just a bit to shape it better. Massaiev watched all the time the silent and absent boy, fearing that they had suffered an important setback once more.

“Do you want to have tea, Fedia?” Massaiev asked and the boy looked at him perplexed, leaving his book aside.

“What time is it?” Guntram looked through the small window of the jet, noticing that it was already dark.

“Tea time back in the USA and dinner in Europe. It's been four hours since you had something and you didn't finish your dish. Mr. Kuragin's meeting might take a long time.”

“It's not as if people could escape from a meeting in plane,” Guntram answered with a soft smile. “I'm not really hungry and can wait for him.”

“I smuggled some of those muffins you liked so much. I was expecting you to be somewhat fuzzy. With lots of tea you can swallow them.”

Guntram laughed and shook his head slowly. “You still haven't learned to appreciate true quality.”

“No, they are a public health hazard. How much grease can be inside them? American people will die of clogged arteries.”

“That Russian cake is not better,” he joked and Massaiev felt relieved that yesterday's fight had been just a tantrum. He pressed the button to call the stewardess and ordered her to serve tea for them.

* * *

Constantin was pleased with his meeting with the two American engineers from Pan Energy and perhaps it was time to run a small test on Guntram's behaviour. “Should we have dinner? We have been working on this for the past six hours.” He asked as he rose from the table and both men agreed enthusiastically.

The Russian walked to his private living room where Guntram was quietly reading a book and once more he was surprised for his lover's serene beauty. 'Black is his colour. How can he tell “I look now like my fucking father”?'

“Come with me Fedia, there are some people I want you to meet,” Constantin said evenly and Guntram looked at him surprised. “The two Americans who were working with me all this time, Fedia,” he repeated the name emphatically and Guntram's pained eyes fixed on him. “Don't try the puppy tactics. You know it doesn't work on me, Fedia.”

Guntram sighed and rose from his chair, leaving the book on the mahogany table next to Massaiev and brushed the pencil's shards from his beige pullover before he walked toward Constantin. “What do I have to do?”

“Be nice and speak little. You know very well what to do,” Constantin warned him and Guntram nodded, ready to follow him.

“Hi!” A man with a prominent stomach greeted the young man, extending his right hand.

“How do you do?” Guntram answered very shyly but shook the stranger's hand and offered his to the other man sitting across the table.

“I'm Peter Evans and that's my partner Josh Smithers. Mr. Kuragin offered us a ride to Le Bourget.”

“My name is Fyodor Tarasov, at your service,” Guntram said almost inaudibly and cast his eyes to the floor.

“We didn't see you before, but we heard about you. Was this your first time in Texas? You were out almost all the time,” Smithers said with a smile. “We thought you were a ghost,” he added with a chuckle and Constantin mirrored his laugh.

“I was walking around.”

“There's nothing like Austin.”

“It's a vibrant and modern city,” Guntram spoke with a soft voice.

“Are you Russian? You don't speak English with their accent,” Evans said.

“His family was originally Russian, but Fedia, I mean Fyodor (Fedia is a diminutive), lived all his life in Uruguay and then in England where I met him,” Constantin said with a soft smile. “He is an artist.”

“I see,” Evans answered, quickly understanding the nature of their relationship. 'Not my problem. Kuragin has lots of money and we need him. Kid seems to be nice. How old is he? Twenty two?'

“Was this your first visit to America?” Smithers changed the subject as Guntram sat at the table next to Constantin. “Did you paint us?” he added with a smile.

“I made several sketches, sir.”

“I hope you don't portrait us like cowboys,” Evans joked.

“No, I did not.” Guntram answered with a nervous smile. “I liked that there were so many musicians in the street and the lakes.”

“Fyodor was most of the time in the hospital for a heart surgery and that was his reason to be there. He's doing much better and will live with me in Khanty Mansiysk. This is his first time in his ancestors' lands.”

“You'll like it. Nice city. I was there already three times for business,” Evans commented with a smile. “Did you live all this time in London?”

“No, in Uruguay,” Guntram whispered.

“That's right. We met in London, at Holland Park, where he was drawing during his holidays. I asked him to stay with me, but he returned to his hometown. It took me a lot of effort to convince him to come with me. Getting him out of his beloved land is like a victory for me.”

“Ah! That's why you moved to that place in Paraguay? Where was it?”

“Do you mean the house in Bahia Negra? Yes, that's right. I kidnapped him there till he begged to see people around.” Constantin chuckled and Guntram paled when he heard the words but the men laughed at the idea finding the description ludicrous. “It's a very beautiful property of ten thousand acres, away from everything and where the jungle has not been touched by men. More than one Nazi had a new life in those jungles, starting by the infamous Dr. Mengele. We were there since May or June. Do you remember the date, Fyodor?”

“Beginning of June, Alexander,” Guntram answered, feeling very sick.

“Fedia is very shy and dislikes to be around people. A crowd renders him very nervous. Artists are very temperamental, but he shows great promise according to some critics who had seen his work. Taking him to Austin for the surgery was a real diplomatic effort. He feels much better now, don't you, Fedia?”

“Yes, thank you, Alexander. This procedure changed my life.”

“I know what you mean. I have a stent and I feel like a brand new man.” Smithers told Guntram and he smiled back more nervous than before. 'Jesus, this boy is a jittery one. He must have been very sick because he's very skinny. Martha should feed him with one of her pineapple pies.'

“Should we have dinner now? Smithers you can have the same as Fedia,” Constantin joked and the large man grimaced in disgust at the idea of hospital food in his near future.

* * *

Guntram felt a cold hand softly stroking his face and he opened his eyes to find them locked with Constantin's dark ones, taking in every little detail in his face.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. We are about to land in Moscow,” he said with a smile, his hand playing with the hair.

“Moscow? Were we not going to Paris?”

“We were already in Paris but you were soundly asleep and it was four in the morning. Evans and Smithers left their regards for you. They say you are a nice but very shy kid. You did very well last night and it wasn't so hard for you.”

“No, it's was all right,” Guntram mumbled sadly. 'I missed my chance in Paris. Was the food drugged? Probably. Constantin may be nicer to me but he never lowers his guard.' “I'll get ready for breakfast or lunch,” he added and his partner laughed with true delight.

“It's still breakfast. We will have lunch once we change planes in Moscow. This jet is too big for the airport, but it's only a two hours flight. We will have a late lunch at home.” He rose from the bed and left the bedroom.

Guntram saw the outfit laying on top of the chair and sighed. 'Massaiev probably put me out of the game with something.' He took it and noticed the pullover was thicker than the one he had been wearing in Austin and had a turtleneck collar. The trousers were made of pure wool and he wondered how cold was really the weather in Siberia.

* * *

April 17^th, 2010

Khanty Mansiysk

The smaller jet, a Tupolev 134 landed in the airport and rode directly to park at the farthest corner of the landing strip as Guntram watched the white cover all over the buildings and the far away forest. “It's still winter,” were his first words after four hours.

“The snow is melting away. We have a very nice weather outside,” Massaiev told him, patting his hand. 'Not now, Guntram. You have done so well so far.'

“Why did we change planes? This one is as big as the other.”

“Nonsense, the Airbus is too delicate to be here. Russian aircraft are designed for this and I prefer a thousand times one of these planes with a good maintenance than a fancy European one. We normally use this one,” Constantin answered dryly, impatient because the ground staff was taking very long to assemble ramps.

“Winter is almost over and Springtime is a wonderful season. Summer can be very hot, but you'll get used to it,” Massaiev told him softly.

“It looks very cold,” Guntram said, becoming more and more restless in his seat. He watched the three black cars approaching the parked plane.

“Put on your coat and scarf, Fedia.” Massaiev softly coaxed Guntram to get him out of his daze.

“Can you not use my name?” he whispered and noticed that Constantin was already walking away.

“This is your name now, Fedia. Don't defy Mr. Kuragin for your own sake. You will like in here.”

“I can't do this,” Guntram said. “I will not remember all these lies.”

“I'm here to help you. Come now, Mr. Kuragin awaits for you, Fedia.”

Guntram finished to button up his coat and pulled the collar around his neck before he went the narrow stairs down, quickening his steps to recover the lost time as Constantin looked impatient, waiting next to the open door, held by the chauffeur. His shoes stepped over the soft snow and he closed the distance to his lover.

“Get inside, Fedia. It's cold for you,” Constantin ordered and Guntram obeyed, sitting on the farthest back passenger seat, leaving space for the man.

The door closed behind him and Constantin told him in French, “All my staff here is Russian and speak very little English. You know some of the security guards from before, but most of them are new. You must stay with Massaiev. To my staff, you are Fyodor Tarasov and my lover since almost a year ago. Avoid them troubles because of your lack of attention as these people may well pay for your slips. Is that understood, angel?”

“Yes, Alexander. I have given you my word as you have given me yours.”

“Then, we have an understanding. My home is some fifty kilometres away from the city. I will show it to you next week. You need to get used to the weather and your new surroundings.”

“Very well, Alexander,” Guntram answered quietly and looked at the dense forest bordering the road, feeling the constriction around his throat tighten even more. 'Here he plays local and I'm visitor. You already know who usually wins the game.'

They drove in eerie silence for almost an hour before the car passed a large gate to enter in a private road. Guntram shivered violently and Constantin asked if he was cold before he embraced and pulled him against his chest to make him feel warmer, kissing him on the cheek.

“Why are you so nervous? You will like the house. The staff is very efficient.”

“It's very cold out there.”

The car parked in front of a large house modern looking house in an L shape and two stores high, and Constantin released Guntram as waited for the butler to open the door for him. Guntram followed him and quickly looked at the servants' faces but he recognised no one.

“Hello, Fedia. How are you feeling?”

“Dr. Sverdloff. I wasn't expecting to see you here,” Guntram greeted the physician and offered his hand. “I'm feeling fine, thank you.”

“I will be here just for two weeks more, child. Dr. Bolsh will replace me once I have finished to adjust your medications. I promise to leave you alone today but tomorrow I will check your condition.”

“Thank you,” Guntram answered and looked embarrassed at the two old maids, gardener and butler softly speaking with Constantin in Russian.

“Come inside Fedia. I'll introduce you to the staff,” Constantin said in English and entered the house.

Guntram was surprised that the foyer was almost bare of furniture or artworks, only showing a painful combination of white walls, floor and some black large vases with flowers at the entrance. He started to unbutton with great difficulty his coat as his left had decided not to cooperate at all, when one of the maids came toward Constantin with a silver tray in her hands carrying a large ring shaped loaf over an embroidered in red white napkin, a dish with salt in the interior of the piece. She whispered something in Russian and bowed her head to him and Constantin easily tore one of the upper decorations of the bread and dipped it into the salt briefly and ate the piece.

“Come on, Fedia. It's the welcome tradition. You have to do the same,” he said gently and Guntram obeyed, feeling more than ever far away from everything he knew.

“Thank you,” he said in English to the woman and blushed, taking two steps backward when she smiled at him.

“I'll show you around as they set the table. Will you have lunch with us and Mikhail Petrovich, doctor?”

“Yes, thank you, Alexander Petrovich.”

Guntram followed Constantin to the large living room and was surprised by the high ceilings and large windows overlooking the forest and he admired once more the silvery shades in the bark of poplar trees, shinning against the snow. “In the summer everything is green and the light filtering through the leaves is very beautiful,” Constantin said very softly.

“It looks almost magical.” Guntram took another look at the room, only decorated with large white leather sofas, a large modern chimney and only a large, intriguing painting on one of the walls. He approached it and examined very carefully the hypnotic mix of shades of blue, green and brown and some touches of golden paint, depicting a contorted youth's torso.

“I'm thinking to hang the Kandinsky on the other wall but I'm not sure,” Constantin commented but Guntram didn't hear him.

“What is this?” he asked in awe, feeling his heart hammer at the painting that looked almost as a vision.

“A Vrubel. He was Russian and for me he was a visionary; a cubist before Cubism ever existed. This one was painted in 1900 and belongs to his series called The Demon, painted after Lermontov's poem. This figure was recurrent in all his painting. The stoneware vase over there also belongs to him but it was made in 1902.”

“It looks more like a mosaic to me.” Guntram decided after a close examination of the picture. “Like those Russian Icons but with its colours and shapes in disorder.”

“His first job was as church restorer,” Constantin said with a proud smile.

“This is not cubism, he de-constructs the colours as if they were thrown into a kaleidoscope. It has an incredible force in its own. Where did you get it?”

“It was not easy believe me, but it was worth every penny I paid for it. He's my favourite Russian painter. I believe this one is a preliminary study for The Demon Fallen. He died of a self caused pneumonia when he realised he was partly mad and blind from the syphilis. Artists need to live on the edge and perhaps that's why they transcend our society's complacency.”

“Do you think I should live on the edge, too?” Guntram asked in a challenging way.

“Just look at the results. Before you were very good but a bit namby-pamby sometimes. Now you start to destroy the figure and push your own limits. Finally, you have put aside your neurosis to make everything perfect and pleasant. The world is not a pink cloud like the one you were living in. I'm well aware that you fight against me when you paint but I don't care as long as you finally find your true self.”

“More than living on the edge, you pushed me over the cliff.”

“Yes, but you survived the fall and came out of the sea, wet but with more energy than before. That's how we grow. Consider the past year as your baptism of fire.” Constantin fixed his charcoal eyes into Guntram's and he couldn't stand the man's glare.

“How can you say you are my friend if you knowingly hurt me?” Guntram whispered with sadness.

“Friends are not those who flatter you the whole day long, but those who help you to become someone and stay beside you no matter the consequences. I love you and I want that all what was trapped inside you can get out one day or you will fall into a bottomless pit of self destruction. Tell me something, can you create if you know that tonight you have a twenty people dinner or to attend to a snobs party?”

“No,” Guntram whispered.

“Deep inside you, you know that I'm right and that you have improved and all what you painted before is worthless compared to what you are creating now.”

Guntram wanted to deny it, but he couldn't as he knew it was the abhorred truth. He collapsed on the couch and buried his face in his hands, messing his hairs to vent the frustration. He rose his face toward Constantin's and his eyes were red and couldn't find his voice, so he nodded dejectedly.

Constantin crouched in front of him and took the youth's hands between his. “I do love you, angel.” he said softly and Guntram nodded again. “I only want the best for you and you know it. Stay with me and let's talk again in a few months. My year with you starts now.”

“Yes, it does indeed.” Guntram's voice was raspy and broken.

* * *

'No more monkeys or greasy burgers for a long time,' Ivan Trekov thought as he laced his arms behind his neck to stretch his stiff back. 'Boss should be pleased with the kid now that he behaves much better than before. Mikhail Petrovich did a good job with him. I never thought this could be possible, but here we are. All of us clean and richer than ever before.'

“Do you want something before lunch, Ivan?” One of the old maids solicitously asked him, taking away her attention from the stew she was cooking for the employees' lunch.

“Women and curiosity are twin sisters,” he chuckled. “Say what you want to ask, Maria and bring your friend Olga along so I don't have to repeat the story.”

“Olga and Dimitri are serving the table,” she pouted.

“I'm not repeating myself and you will enrich the story.”

“He looks like a little mouse. Very different to the other two we had two or three years ago,” she said innocently, hoping to lure the man into talking.

“Aha. When is lunch time for us?”

“In half an hour. When Mr. Kuragin has finished.”

“You'll have your answers then,” he chuckled and she sighed, utterly frustrated and returned to her chores.

* * *

“Are you tired, angel?” Constantin asked solicitously and Guntram smiled weakly. “Why don't you rest for a while? Mikhail Petrovich can show you the forest later.”

“Yes, thank you. Excuse me, gentlemen,” Guntram answered before he rose from the table, leaving his napkin next to the empty cup of tea.

He climbed the stairs up to the master bedroom where Constantin had clearly told him he was going to sleep.

In the room, his bag had already been unpacked and all his belongings hung in his side of the dressing room. He noticed several winter clothes he had not seen before and sighed when he touched the heavy fabrics. 'Constantin is the fucking master here.' He turned around in the white room and shivered from the cold, remembering how similar his first impression of Konrad's house had been. 'I was also freezing there and fell asleep. Some things don't change with me.'

He sat on the bed, terribly tired and almost falling asleep. He removed his shoes very slowly and began to undress himself to change into his pyjamas before he slid under the thick covers.

'What do I do now? I really have no chances here. This is Constantin's land but he has not abused his power so far. I know he rules my every move, but he's not imposing himself unto me. In fact, he improved my health when Konrad never spoke about this surgery. He told me he released Soren and I hope he's fine now. Constantin wants me to accept this new life he settled for me and probably it's for the best. I'm so tired of fighting that I only want to rest and have my peace.'

'I miss my boys but their faces are becoming more and more foggy in my memory. Have they changed much in this year? Do they still remember me? Is Eberhard good to them? Yes, most probably. He was good with kids. How could Konrad repeat the same story with him? Couldn't he wait for me? Why should he? I sent him to hell in Argentina.'

'The Colombian said that he was looking for me. No, not him. Goran and the Serbs, that's what he really said. He was afraid of Goran, but he never mentioned Konrad. I know for certain, Goran wouldn't give up till he would have found my body. He's a great man and the best friend I ever had. More than a father or a brother.”

'Does Konrad still love me? I don't know any longer. I only want to go home, but is there anyone waiting for me?'

* * *

“The boy went to bed,” the old butler Dimitri said when he entered in the kitchen to join the staff for lunch time. The maids were serving the two bodyguards and the four more who had arrived this morning. “His manners at table are exquisite, but he's very quiet,” he added.

“He hardly ever speaks,” Ivan supplied. “Very quiet and shy personality. The only thing he does is painting the whole day and his stuff looks fine.”

“What's his name? Irina, the good looking maid who had been holding the loaf, asked while she sat in front of her soup bowl.

“Fyodor Tarasov.”

“Is he Russian?” Olga in disbelief. “He speaks only English with the master!”

“Russian family long time ago. He was born in Uruguay,” Ivan recited the story. “He has been living with the boss in Paraguay for almost a year.”

“He was very sick when we brought him in,” another of the men sitting at the large wooden table added. “But after a heart surgery, something very delicate and dangerous in the USA, he's doing much better. You should have seen him before, he couldn't walk more than a kilometre without fainting and now he can run in the park or walk the whole day.”

“He's really thin.” Maria observed. “Looks unhealthy, like a bag of bones.”

“That's your job, Maria. Fatten him up a bit,” the butler laughed. “Like you do with all of us!”

“Fyodor, though the boss calls him Fedia, is a nice guy. Will not give you trouble at all and he's most of the time with Massaiev. He wakes up in the morning, has breakfast and starts to work. The boss or Massaiev have to shake him or otherwise he would forget about lunchtime. He reads or stays with the boss most of the time. Mr. Kuragin likes him very much,” Ivan explained seriously.

“It would be good for this poor man to find someone. Mr. Kuragin is always alone or dates these wild youths, good for nothing, thinking only on drugs or cheating on him. Poor man, he's such a sensible soul.” Maria said with a firm voice and one of the bodyguards almost choked with his soup.