Monopoly

Monopoly

September 21^st, 2005

Zurich

The hands placed over his eyes, made Guntram giggle. “How old are you really, Konrad?” He grabbed the hands and kissed the fingers with tenderness.

“The idea is that you act surprised and take your time to guess who it is,” the older man said, but quickly bent his body over the man crouched on the floor to deeply kiss him under the astonished yet curious looks of their children.

“Konrad, the babies,” Guntram said a bit shocked, quickly looking at his eighteen-month-old sons. “You're early.”

“I'm playing truant,” Konrad said very proudly. “At forty-seven.”

“You are a dangerous rebel indeed,” Guntram joked. “Can I do the same?”

“Not if you want to be able to sit for a week,” Konrad smirked. “How is university going by the way?”

“Konrad!” Guntram whined.

“It's a simple question. So?”

“Fine,” the young man grunted sullenly.

“You need to practice a lot more, Guntram. One word sentences are the pinnacle of human communication. Your ‘fine’ should have come out a bit drier and commanding.”

“Impressive lecture, Konrad,” Guntram answered softly, hoping to divert his attention from the topic.

“Anyway, I already saw your preliminary grades. Good work.”

Guntram had to take a deep breath before he would express his opinion—once more—on Konrad's “constant meddling” with his school life. 'My lawyer was a hundred times better than him. He only wanted to know if he had to pay for any extra tuition or not.' With a forced smile, he said ironically, “I'm glad you approve of them.”

“Indeed,” Konrad replied in a haughty tone, calculated to make Guntram smile at his antics. “But there was a good reason for my ‘constant meddling’ as you call it.”

“Which was?” Guntram asked as he buried his smile in his love's chest, giving him a light hug as the boys looked at them again.

“Checking that they were fine and that you didn't need to study this weekend.”

“No, I don't. I'm just finished with the first round of exams.”

“Then, I have a surprise for you and these two gentlemen,” Konrad answered with a smile. “We fly away tomorrow at dawn.”

“Don't you have to work?”

“Yes, but I can finish everything in the plane.”

“Where are we going?” Guntram asked curious, and quickly removed a toy from Klaus' mouth before it was chewed into nothing.

“It’s a surprise. Curiosity killed the cat, Guntram.”

* * *

TS 2 Part VI Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Copenhagen

April 30^th, 2012

A very tired Guntram descended from the car before the valet parking in the expensive hotel could open his door. He only nodded to the man and proceeded to untie his son from the baby car seat. Konrad looked everywhere with clear excitement. The bright lights decorating the façade were absolutely fascinating for the child.

“We just saved the trip to Bollywood,” John chortled, examining the large Moorish inspired building. “This looks like the frigging Taj Mahal... or Las Vegas without money.”

“The Copenhagen elite used to come here at the beginning of the Twentieth century,” Guntram said tiredly. “The Nimb is still one of the best hotels in the world. They don't serve cheap Martinis here. We are in the middle of Tivoli Gardens, a few steps from the best area of the city. If you don't believe me, ask the people at Conde Naste. The Hotel d'Anglaterre is being refurbished at the moment. I was very lucky to get a suite and a room here,”

“Together?” John asked before he climbed the large marble stairs.

“On different floors.”

“Hey! I want to sleep with you,” he protested but not too loudly. “I'll fix it.”

“It's really not...” Guntram started to say but John ignored him and went in a straight line to the receptionist. 'With his manners, it will be a miracle if we can keep the reservation,”

Walking very slowly, with his son in his arms, Guntram approached the desk, hoping to save something from the disaster but he was greatly surprised when he heard John kindly requesting the woman to change the reservations for two suites en suite. She looked for a long time in her computer and she smiled to the American before she told him that they could stay in suites 11 and 12 and that she will send a crib to suite number 12 as it was smaller and the baby would be more comfortable there.

Still smiling with a superior air at Guntram, John entered the elevator, followed by the astonished young man.

“So you can be nice to Europeans,” he huffed.

“Whenever it suits me, prince. Do you think you get money out of a posh Vanderbilt without rubbing his ego and dancing the same waltz?”

“I assume you can also read a menu in French,”

“Oh yes, but it doesn't prevent the waiters to serve sh... rubbish here. My eating improved since you're around. They must mistake you by one of the locals,” he said innocently. “Fedia is almost a Russian name, right?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Russians have a lot of money nowadays, right?”

“They have large fortunes, yes,” Guntram answered puzzled, not truly understanding where John wanted to go. He was glad when the elevator stopped and the door opened letting him escape from the inquisitive look.

* * *

TS 2 Part VI Chapter 18 B

Chapter 18. Second Part 

“Hey kid, no oral sex while I'm driving. I don't understand a single road sign,” John chortled as Guntram ducked down when he saw Constantin and his men standing at the harbour exit door, hiding Konrad under his body.

“I'm holding the baby, I thought he was falling down,” he said, clinching his teeth so hard that he felt some pain in his jaws. He kept his crouched position till the van speeded up and crossed the gate.

“Yeah, right. I'm irresistible and you know it. Wait till the hotel and what about the “never in front of my child” part?”

'Asshole thought Guntram, but kept his lips firmly closed.

“You see? Why don't you call me 'asshole'? You're dying to do so. Or is that word not included in the “posh prince” dictionary?”

“As I said there is no need to be vulgar,” Guntram answered as he sat upright once more, putting Konrad against his chest.

“Tell me one single word that has the same “emotional power”,” John smirked. “I can think of asshole, shithead, dickhead, ass, wanker and my grandma was smashing my head against the wall every time I used them.”

“Idiot,” Guntram blurted out as he was becoming irked with the man.

“That's for ladies!” John gloated. “Come on! You can't be always “speaking conscious”, kid.”

“You must understand that I'm not an English native speaker, but dunce, blockhead, lime-brain, dime-wit or simpleton would do very well in this situation. Please, refrain yourself from using that foul language in front of my son.”

“All right, I'll do that,” John said earnestly and glad that the “prince” was holding his ground. 'This is going to be certainly fun.' “Can you read the f... signs and tell me how to get downtown to the most modern and posh hotel this city has?”

“Do you mean the Nobis?” Guntram asked mind absently as he started to program the GPS.

“Yeah, that one.” 'How the fuck do you know about it? You're supposed to be here for the first time,' John mused but kept himself quiet, focusing on the driving and the soft voiced instructions he received from the young man.

* * *

TS 2 Part VI Chapter 18 Part A

Chapter 18

April 27^th, 2012

Moscow

With his hands trembling from exhaustion and terror, Ramazov tried several times to get the key in the keyhole. The five men surrounding him, one of them holding his eldest girl drove him more and more nervous. “Please, let her go. I did my part.”

“You have not returned what you took from me; my child and lover,” Constantin answered coldly. “Pray they're here.”

Ramazov opened the door and immediately saw the empty flat. He closed his eyes and waited for the final blow at her daughter but he heard nothing.

“Release the girl,” Constantin said. “Let the local scum decide what to do with her.”

Ramazov looked at him without comprehending the words.

“If she's clever she'll go to a policeman, if she's not, she's good as dead,” Constantin sneered before he entered the small flat.

“Run, Nadia! Run to your mother!” Ramazov shouted and watched how she fled through the stairwells.

“In, you piece of shit,” one of the men growled and shoved him inside.

Constantin sat in one of the sofas as his men searched the rooms like rabid dogs, watching carefully the man standing in front of him. 'What happened to all of us? This one is not even worth to go for cigarettes.'

“He was certainly here, boss,” one man said “He also slept here too.”

“There are rests of baby food. Breakfast,” another one added, shouting from the kitchen.

One of the intruders found the slightly hidden computer and began to inspect it at an incredible fast speed. “He sent no messages at all. He only created one e-mail account. I'll break it in a minute, sir.”

“Do it,” Constantin agreed still looking at his abashed prey. “What was the name in the papers you gave him?”

“Fyodor Tarasov from Uruguay. He kept telling that was his name,” Ramazov stammered. “I swear he didn't want to come with us. Oblomov forced him to follow me.”

“Boss, I have something,” the young man engulfed in the computer's screen shouted. “He made several reservations in hotels around Europe under the name of Fyodor and Conor Tarasov. He also bought a ticket back to Buenos Aires from Zurich on May 4^th and he's supposedly travelling tonight on the ferry from Helsinki to Stockholm.”

“Why would he do that?” Dima enquired puzzled.

“He's travelling as a tourist as he's trying to sneak into the European Union. He checked the conditions for Uruguayans to remain in Schengen territory,” the man in the computer explained.

“Now, you all know why Lintorff had so many troubles in the past,” Constantin sneered. “Crazy or not, Fedia still knows how to run away. It's a clever move indeed. He knows that I'm expecting him to run to Lintorff and attack the children the minute he's there. He's playing the lunatic to make me think he's somewhere, wandering lost and crazy and waste my time looking for him when I should be preparing our next operational phase. Little vixen. Perhaps he inherited more from his father than I originally estimated.”

“What do we do now?” Dima asked. “With the plane we can intercept him in Stockholm.”

“We do that,” Constantin agreed with a cold smile. “If he's not there, we proceed according to the plan.”

“And the other thing?” one of the men fearfully asked, gesturing with his head toward Ramazov.

Constantin took his weapon out and killed the man with a clean shot in the head, without changing his position. All the men in the room blanched but said nothing, fearing they would be next.

“Vassily, If we don't get our recalcitrant Fedia back in Stockholm, then you may proceed with Lintorff's bastards. Give the order now but do it very slowly, With any luck, he might be able to attend their funerals. I had enough of this childish game.”

“What about the baby, boss?” Dima said respectfully.

“I have all the time in the world to recover my son, something our enemies don't have. I will not risk our positions or lives for something that is already worthless. We proceed as agreed, is that understood, gentlemen?”

“Yes, boss,” the men said in unison.

* * *

Under the Sign of the Cross- Part II

Torcello Island

Under the Sign of the Cross. Part II 

December 28^th, 2001

Venice

The glaring midday sun almost blinded Konrad, partially dazed by the deafening noise caused by the cooing of thousands of doves pestering the tourists on San Marco Square. A sleepless night in a train going from Paris to Venice during which he had evaluated all his options had left him drained.

The boy, Guntram, was obviously meant for him. He was everything he had ever dreamed of in a companion for life. They had met at the Lord's house, and for the first time in his life, Konrad had felt a sense of calm—of bliss and completeness—he had never experienced before. Nothing in Guntram's character, from what he had seen so far, reminded him of Roger.

The only question in Konrad's mind was how much Guntram knew about his family's past. 'De Lisle swore he made sure the boy always remained away from Europe, and that might be well true. According to the records, this is the first time he is here after leaving France in 1985.

'Even if we don't work out as a couple, I am responsible for him. I am his legal guardian, and even if he's nineteen years old, it would be very senseless from my part to let him go wild. Look at my nephew, Armin. One of these days, I will have to bring him home and straighten him up.

'But Guntram looks like a good boy who works, studies, goes to Church and stays at home every night. Anyway, he should attend a good university and have a job more suitable to his upbringing.

'It's all a matter of letting things flow and see what the outcome is,' he decided.

Under the Sign of the Cross - Part I

Under the Sign of the Cross

December 24^th, 2001

Paris

'This is a bloody disaster,' Ferdinand von Kleist thought when he was informed in the middle of their early flight to Paris that, due to an electrical storm, their plane had been diverted to Strasbourg. 'We can't cancel the meeting in such a short notice, and the bad weather will continue until tomorrow afternoon, so taking another plane is out of the question. So much for planning and getting up at four in the morning!'

The loud snort he heard from the man at his side, let Ferdinand know that his long-time friend was irritated at the problems caused by a ‘minor occurrence’ such as bad weather conditions. 'Marie and the pilots should be glad if they can keep their jobs after tomorrow. He is going to blame them for… not being on good speaking terms with the Almighty and convincing Him to grace us with nice weather.'

“Do you have any idea if there are early morning trains from Strasbourg to Paris, at least?”

“I assume so, Konrad. Monika is working on it,” Ferdinand answered with a sufficiency he didn't feel. “TGVs are very fast.”

“This is most annoying. We could have saved us the flight and taken the train directly from Zurich,” Konrad buffed as he once more returned to his reports, nervous and cranky because of the upcoming meeting with the associates.

For the first time in his life, he was going to be late. He hated to give them any cause to talk or be suspicious of him.

* * *