TS 2 Chapter 20

Chapter 20

April 28^th, 2012

Stockholm

Both men looked leaned on the parapet of the bridge with their gazes lost in the horizon.

“It's certainly going to be boring without you, boss,” Dima said softly.

“Are you getting sentimental on me, Klatschko?” Constantin sneered.

“After so many years... Almost twenty now. Not many marriages last so long,”

“Twenty-two years working together,” Constantin remembered with a pinch of melancholia as he lighted another cigarette.

“Don't you want to try it once more? Just for Conor's sake.”

“If I run after him, I'll make a mistake and we will all pay for it. We are in their territory now. Oblomov must have told them everything.”

“It's a huge sacrifice, boss.”

“It's just a pause in the game. Let Guntram run to Lintorff. They will be so busy congratulating themselves that they won't notice a thing. When the times come, I'll get my Conor back. After all, he's the only good thing I got from his father.”

“He's a beautiful child indeed,” Dima agreed. “I'm sorry for Massaiev, he really liked and cared for them.”

“He was getting too old. Can you imagine him in a nursing home? It was a good end for him.”

“My family arrived to Puerto Vallarta three days ago, boss.”

“I'm leaving for Rennes tonight. It's time for Mr. Dubois to return home. France was always my second homeland.”

“I think you should consider another place, boss. It's like courting with disaster.”

“It's perfect. I almost went mad in the middle of the jungle. I need to see a theatre or a Museum now and then. What's the use of having so much money if you can't enjoy it? Maybe, I'll write my memoirs,” Constantin joked and Dima laughed.

“It would be certainly worth buying it. At least the whole first edition to burn it down before somebody reads it.”

“Good bye, there are no debts between us any longer,” Constantin said after some minutes spent in amiable silence and companionship and he offered his hand.

“Thank you, boss,” Dima said earnestly. “I'm really sorry it didn't work as you planned. We should have taken the boy the minute we saw him. He was perfect for you.”

Constantin sadly smiled and once more looked into the glistening waters. “Breaking a conditioning like his one is almost impossible, Dima. Didn't Massaiev tell it to us hundred of times? Guntram was seriously damaged since he was a child. A real pity. The world lost a true genius. I can already imagine his future; living in Lintorff's cage, terrified of his own shadow and sick. He won't last long. Sverdloff was not very optimistic after the surgery.”

“You should get your baby back before Lintorff drives him mad like he did with the father. He was very happy to be with you.”

“I will do it when the time is right. Good luck, my friend.”

* * *

April 30^th, 2012

Copenhagen

Guntram recovered himself from the shock and laughed. “My name? So much for a memorable night with me. I told it before we started to kiss. Can you not tell it?”

“If you want my help, you'd better spit it out.”

“Fyodor Tarasov. Do you want to see my papers? he asked nervously. “Don't you believe that I'm twenty-nine years old?”

“I believe you're lying to me since the first minute I saw you. Why? I have no idea. Are you in troubles with the police?”

“I? No, nothing like that!” Guntram tried to escape from the bed, but John caught him by the arm, making him wince and recoil. John released his arm in no time.

“That could be true. You look like someone who has never broken a dish in his life.”

“Is that the way you court your wannabe lovers?” Guntram attacked.

“I saw your book, Einstein. Guntram de Lisle. There are photos of you in the internet.”

Guntram paled but forced himself to giggle like a fool. “So you know my big secret.”

“I'm waiting for an explanation, prince. Should I call you Guntram?”

“No! That's my artistic alias. I use it for painting and writing. Hundreds of people do the same.”

“Normally, artists sign with their real names. They beg for attention.”

“I have a common name and this one sounded mysterious.”

“Weird,” John taunted him and Guntram huffed upset. “Where did you get such a name?”

“Phone listing.”

“Did you exhibit at the Vatican?”

“I have two portraits there, yes.”

“So you're famous.”

“Yes, the masses love me. Madonna is getting jealous,” Guntram sneered.

“All right, I believe you. Do you really live in Uruguay?”

“I was born there, but as I told you I moved to Europe in 2002. Conor was born in Uruguay too.”

“So, you're nothing more than an artist who hides from people.”

“I was always shy.”

“All right, we will drive away tomorrow to Bruges. Stay tonight here.”

“I don't want to leave Conor alone. What if he cries?”

“Leave the door open. This so called “suite” is nothing more than a large room with a table and some chairs. I like to cuddle and your son has something already. I'll get a very big teddy bear for him,” John said and yawned. “Night,” was his last word before he readjusted his position in the bed and fell asleep.

Guntram's back remained stiff for a long time before he could exhale a sigh and slid under the covers. He watched at the sleeping man, softly snoring and closed he eyes. 'That was close. I never wanted to hurt John or use him. I thought he was using me just as I was using him.'

'I can't leave him. I need him to escape Constantin. He must be around, looking for us like crazy. Maybe he doesn't know I'm with John.'

'What if I get him hurt in the process? Really hurt. Constantin would kill him with his bare hands if he knew we are together in bed. Konrad would do it too. He was always so jealous.”

'Yes, that's right. He was. Maybe he found someone else and is happy. Maybe it did work with Eberhard and the two of them are happy and Karl and Klaus too.'

'Do I have the right to come back? I left him. Not entirely on my own but how do I come back? 'Hi Konrad, this is Konrad Jr.? Sorry, I forgot to write but I was living with Constantin for three years in Siberia? Ah, by the way, he's the father of my son too.'

'It sounds worse than what John tells me.'

'If I return, I'll endanger the boys' lives. Constatin would never give up. I was all the time afraid that he could hurt Conor, but he has accepted him as if he were his baby. He would shoot me in the head just to keep him.”

He contemplated the sleeping man and felt something stir inside him. 'Under that bad ass attitude, there's a good heart. I bet he worked his way to the top and never cheated anyone. Maybe overcharging his customers a bit, but he has never hurt anyone. I can feel it and I'm not wrong with him.'

'He's a good man and deserves so much better.'

His eyes guessed John's big form in the darkness and Guntram genuinely smiled. 'Maybe happiness is just to have a nine to five job, a small house with a yard for Konrad to play in and someone like him, with a clean and non conflictive past.

'The greatest temptation of all is not money or power; it's just that. A simple life.'

'What wouldn't I give to have one? A new continent, a small house. I know I can work and survive and no Order or mobsters around.'

'But I can't do this to Konrad. He needs to know that I'm fine and that I didn't leave him on my own or that he's responsible for what happened. I have to ease Goran's fears; he deserves it and I wouldn't turn my back on him. He never abandoned me.'

'He's truly my best friend. Maybe he wants to be Konrad's godfather when I baptise him. I can't think of anyone better.'

* * *

May 4^th, 2012

Chalons sûr Mer

It was a glorious day for the real estate agent of the small town in the North of France. God had answered her prayers in the form of a French-Russian kind and well loaded middle age man.

“Monsieur Arseniev, the property we are going to visit needs a small renovation. You should look at the potential of the house and the wonderful river included in the twenty acres garden. The forest surrounding it is simply astonishing,” she said as the man drove his brand new Audi Q7. “This is the right moment to buy a property. The prices can't fall any longer and the market starts to show some signs of recovery.”

“I'm more interested in the house than in the gardens. You mentioned a renovation,” Constantin said, not impressed at all by the woman's prattle.

“Ah, just some painting and perhaps the lights. It's a very luminous house and in a wonderful environment.”

Constantin only looked at her and smirked, already imagining the shape of the house if she was so desperately trying to focus his attention on the gardens.

“You have to turn left here,” she indicated him, pointing to a small path carved in the forest. “The property is five kilometres away from the town and you can do your shopping there. Lille is forty-two kilometres away from here and with the TGV you can be in Paris in two hours or less. On working days, there are services almost every hour. It's an ideal place.”

“Yes, I saw the photos in your webpage,” Constantin told her. 'The location looks ideal. Isolated but near civilization,' he thought.

“When did you return from Russia?”

“A month ago. I've been travelling around and decided to settle down once more in the north. We are originally from St. Petersburg, but I was born here, in Paris,” Constantin said amiably. 'Small town, they all want to know everything about you, but once they see there's nothing interesting, they forget you. I have to keep a straight face in front of them.'

“Were you living in St. Petersburg?” she asked as Constantin parked in front of an old castle.

“A few years. I'm an engineer and worked many years in Siberia in the oil industry,” he answered with a tired smile. “I was retired a few months ago after working like a madman since I was twenty years old and found myself with a large compensation for my years of service, but completely alone. I want to start again in France.”

'Poor man, he's so good looking. Russians look incredible,' she thought but kept a professional face. “The house dates from the XIX century and it's built in the Napoleon III style. There is also a guest house as you can see over there which was built in the XVIII century and the caretakers house dates from the XVII and it was originally an old mill. Many of the people who are interested in this property think this could be a wonderful spa-hotel,” she finally bluffed.

“It's too far away from a good communication road. GPS are good but they don't work miracles,” Constantin refuted her with a smirk.

“The price is very competitive, sir,” she said evenly.

“This can only be said after seeing the inside of house. So far I like what I see.” Constantin replied, glancing at the squared two stores with a mezzanine house painted in yellow and white.

“It needs just a small renovation. The family lived until a few months ago,” she said.

“Why are they selling?”

“The house belonged to an old man and his children prefer to sell it. They all live in Paris.”

“Good, for a moment I thought you were going to tell me that they sell because they can't cope with the ghost living here,” he joked and pointed to some of the almost falling parts of the roofs.

“There are no ghosts here,” she said laughing. “No one as far as we know was drowned in the pond and the owner passed away in Lille, in a nursing home.”

“Pity, a ghost makes things interesting,”

“Indeed,” she chuckled as she fought with the keys and a hinged main door.

“Allow me, please,” Constantin offered. 'Add new door and windows to the “small painting job”.' After a small battle with the door, he was able to open it and they entered in a large classical foyer, where some furnitures were simply abandoned there.

“The family includes the furniture in the final price,” she said immediately. “They are very good pieces.”

“In need of a good restorer,” Constantin retorted after a quick but thoroughly inspection on them.

“I think a cleaning will do,” she commented full of enthusiasm.

'With this humidity? Have the owners not isolated the pond?' Constantin thought as he noticed the humidity stains in the lower parts of the walls.' Without adding another word he walked across the first floor as the real estate agent told him about the living room, dining room, library, two bathrooms and kitchen. The first floor consisted of two large bedrooms with bathroom's and a large parental suite. There were other seven bedrooms distributed between the second and third floors with two more shared bathrooms per floor.

“It's an ideal house to be reconverted into a hotel, alas the crisis stops most projects,” she said once they finished the visit.

“This house gives no reasonable profit margins with the price you're asking,” Constantin fired. “This place needs a complete renovation; the plumbings are old, there are humidities everywhere, the roof needs fixing, the isolation is in bad shape, not to mention the heating system and somehow, the pond leaks.”

“This castle is one of the most beautiful in the area.”

“The electrical system dates from World War Two,” Constantin added. “Do you still have permission to use that kitchen?”

“The house is in a protected area classified as ISMH, sir,” she protested.

“More to my favour. I can't put it down and build anew.”

“There are no properties like this one any longer. One point four million euros is a fantastic price.”

“Fantastically high,” Constantin retorted with an ironic smile. 'I have to build the illusion that I have money but I'm not that rich.' “There are two other properties of similar characteristics and already renovated and the asking price is bellow of what you're asking for this one.”

“They don't have a caretakers house.”

“Which has to be put down, but I can't do it as it must be well protected. Fixing that old mill will cost me over a hundred thousand.”

“The owners can lower the price a bit,” she admitted, slightly panicking at the idea that her only customer for the house in two years was slipping through her fingers.

“Offer them a million.”

“They will not go so low.”

“They will get the money at the end of the week,” Constantin said. “Should I drive you back to your office?”

“All right, I think the owners will agree to your conditions.”

“Excellent,” Constantin answered with a smile and offered his hand to her. “Do you know any building company in the area? I would like to employ my future neighbours.”