TS 2 Part VI Chapter 13

Chapter 13

October 22^nd, 2011

Khanty Mansiysk

For two days Constantin didn't let Guntram come near Konrad no matter how many times he pleaded to be allowed to see him. “Earn your privilege to be near him. You don't behave like a sensible person at all. You have everything you could want but yet, you reject it. That's quite a self destructive behaviour in my opinion. Not very sane, right?” Constantin had taunted him and Guntram remained speechless.

“I'll do anything you want. I'll stay here, but let me be with him,” he whispered.

“I'll think about it,” Constantin answered nonchalantly. “I'm also tired of your permanent tantrums and dramas. If you're nervous, take the pills the doctor prescribed you, but don't take it on me.” He left the underground bedroom without casting a glance at Guntram's huddled form.

Time passed slowly as his thoughts assaulted him. The loneliness was not so terrible as the uncertainty. Guntram was well aware that Constantin's patience with him was well over. He had played his last card and he had lost. 'He knows I don't love him, yet he wants me. If he were through with me, he would have killed me without a single second thought. He will not give up or feel any regrets like Konrad would. He has no mercy in his soul and we are only good for him as long as we are useful for him.'

'What does he mean by earn Conor's keep? It can't mean money. He has more than enough.'

'What does he want from me now? Should I completely bend to his will?'

'What if he hurts Klaus and Karl? He's still furious for what I did.'

'I'm a piece of shit as father. Maybe it's for the best that I'm not near Konrad. Constantin always took better care of him than I.'

'Maybe I'm finally losing my sanity.'

He remained in the bed without moving and waiting for any new development, knowing that he couldn't do anything else, knowing that he had been reduced to nothing.

Once more.

* * *

The Players

Frog by Fabergé. 1898.
Formerly living at Guntram's bedroom  in
Constantin's mansion  in London during TS 1

The Players

October 9^th, 2000

Punta del Este, Uruguay.

The young personal assistant was sweating as he waited for his superior at the Carrasco airport. One nervous look at Landau, the man in charge of the Sao Paulo office, convinced him that he was also upset and on the edge.

“On top, we will have to drive for two hours,” Landau mumbled. “The Duke will be furious.”

“Don't tell it to me. What on earth possessed Repin to rearrange the meeting there?” the personal assistant, an athletic blond, answered.

“We need him. Therefore, he sets the rules, Heindrik.”

As they talked, a group of seven tall, well-dressed men approached the crystal-steel doors, which automatically opened for them, and both waiting men stood to attention when they saw their superior, already bearing a very serious expression under his sunglasses.

“Welcome to Uruguay, sire,” Heindrik said courteously. “The cars are waiting for you.”

“Everything ready?” Konrad asked without stopping his stride or even casting a glance at the young man jogging after him.

“We have to drive to another city. Punta del Este. Mr. Repin insisted on changing the meeting place two hours ago. There was no time to modify your flight's schedule.”

Konrad stopped abruptly and looked at Heindrik, while Goran Pavicevic, his head of security, came forward. “We don't change places with such short notice,” the Serbian pointed out. “Even you know this, Holgersen.”

“The place is secure, sir. Belongs to our people.”

“Why the change?” barked Ferdinand von Kleist.

“Mr. Repin says that he finds the place amusing,” a mortified Heindrik blurted out. “Hotel Casino Conrad,” he confessed, and this time Konrad really looked at him.

“Russians are very childish,” was his sole answer. “We drive now.”

* * *

TS 2 Part VI Chapter 12

Chapter 12

October 9^th, 2011

Khanty Mansiysk

Guntram de Lisle's diary.

Today Conor turns one year old and he's simply amazing. Sometimes, I can't believe he's here with me or with Alexander. He's the greatest gift I could ever had and I love to see him growing so much at such a fast pace. He started to crawl a bit better since a month ago and we ran after him the whole day. Conor hates to stay in his playpen and wants to explore the house on his own. For him, a closed cabinet is impossible to resist.

Alexander lets him explore as much as he wants... within reason of course. He's very proud of Conor and he showed him to his business partners several times. Some of them come now to the house to have dinner and bring their wives or children along too.

Alexander treats me very well. He's always pending that I have everything I need and I'm happy with my child.

* * *

Of Greased Pigs and Schoolboys

Of Greased Pigs and Schoolboys

October 19^th, 1999

Buenos Aires

“Sir?”

“Yes, de Lisle?” the teacher, without rising his eyes from the paper he was grading, answered with all the ironic contempt his voice could muster.

“Excuse me, sir, but there is a hog in the window,” Guntram said very shyly as he looked at the rosy, small pig walking back and forth on the long Victorian window parapet.

“How many times do I have to repeat that ‘in’ means that the poor animal is embedded into said window? The proper formulation for that sentence is... Any idea, de Lisle?” the teacher corrected him as the whole class did their best to hold their snickers in check.

“I mean, there is a pig at the window, sir,” the just turned seventeen-year-old blond youth replied in a shaky voice.

“That's much better, boy,” the old man said and returned to his papers, not paying any more attention to his student.

“Excuse me, sir, but it might fall from the window,” Guntram insisted shyly but desperately, looking how carelessly the hog paced along the narrow parapet, softly grunting as if searching for invisible truffles.

“From any other of your fellows, I would have expected such a childish prank, but from you, de Lisle? This is most annoying. Can you please explain me where is the fun in your little charade? Do I have to interrupt my own work and look at the window for your schoolmates' entertainment?” the old teacher answered with studied procrastination, stubbornly keeping his short-sighted eyes fixed on his papers.

“No, sir. May I take it out to the garden?” Guntram asked once more, and the teacher slammed his fist against the desk, furiously rising from his seat to face...

A small pig pacing back and forth on the window's parapet.

Fast as a comet, the animal jumped from the parapet and dashed for the classroom’s mysteriously open door as one of the teenagers used his pen as a blowgun, accurately hitting its hindquarters.

The squawking creature ran out down the corridor like a possessed soul, and the whole classroom, without waiting for their teacher's permission, went in its pursue, yelling their excitement to hunt such a dangerous beast.