TS 3 Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Guntram de Lisle's diary

June 24^th, 2014

Zurich

Once Father Patricio told me that the hardest rocks to squeeze were rich people. Getting two pennies out of a homeless man was easier than getting them from a millionaire. 

How right he was! 

Today I met with all the families of the people arrested. Monika, came to me in the morning and with red-rimmed eyes told me that she could only give me 12 million Swiss Francs. “It's all what we have, dear. My first husband had money and with Michael we didn't make that much. I can't sell the house at the moment. These are our entire savings. The boys agree with me that Michael deserves it.” 

“I know, Monika.” I told her and I know it's true. Michael has brains but nothing else. All what he has made comes from the bank, and Monika, she was almost broken after her divorce and battle for the kids. She had to work for Konrad to get enough money to pay for their educations. 

Twelve million is a lot of money for she and her sons. Maybe six or seven belong to Michael.  

“Your support means a lot to me.” I told her. “I hope we don't need to take so much from you.” 

Encouraged by her noble gesture, I entered in the library and there were Elisabetta, Carolina, Armin for Albert's side, Cecilia and Ferdinand's two boys; the wives of Adolf and Merenghetti, my father and Gandini and lawyers for everyone. We should have moved the whole party to the ballroom, so crowded as it was. 

The lawyers started by explaining the situation how we should split the risks. I, for Konrad would have to face 72% of the 4.3 billion Swiss Francs and the rest to be split in parts. So, for them it would be about 1.3 billion. 

The wife of Merenghetti immediately said she could give us about twenty-five million and the deed for her flat in Chelsea which is worth about 20 million more. 

“I'm afraid the terms are painfully clear. Only cash,” I told her. 

“This isn't a property that you can sell in two days or to mortgage in a blink,” she pressed her hands together. “I have some jewels but it won't be enough.” 

“I assume we will have to put the property on the market and wait for the best,” I said evenly and looked at Adolf's wife and hoped for more cash because he's the zu Löwenstein family head. Notice that I didn't say a thing about not paying so far, even if our family has to chip in for most of the fine. 

She sighed loudly and at that moment, I knew that my hopes were unrealistic. “Cash is very hard to find these days. The family have properties but they aren't liquid enough. Some artworks could go for sale but discretion is of the utmost importance for us.” 

“Would you at least give me an estimate amount?” I said. She should be giving over a hundred to compensate all what they had been getting out from the bank. 

“No, I can’t,” she told me flatly. I know that she hates her husband and probably she's happy she got rid of him, but come on, he's the father of your girls! 

“Cecilia?”  I asked Ferdinand's wife. Her dad is loaded. 

“We have consulted with our lawyers and we feel that as this fine is set on the bank, the bank should be hold responsible for the payment.” She told me. 

“May I remind you that your husband was responsible of many of the decisions that led us to this point?” I asked back and she batted her eyelashes at me. “Informed decisions that were wrong.” 

“Dear, you should use the money from the insurance for that.” Elisabetta told me and I looked at her in total shock. 

“We don't have an insurance that large.” I replied and bit my lips. “The liability insurance is quite specific; these kind of crimes are not covered.” 

“Then you should try harder.” Elisabetta sounded irritated, as if she were scolding a little child. “The bank belongs to Konrad entirely and I still don't understand why my son was dragged into all this.” 

“Maybe because he's co-director of the Lintorff Privatbank and wow! He's responsible for the unsavory customers we got from Italy.” I pointed out. “Albert really forgot all about the “know thy customer” rule.” 

Elisabetta looked quite unhappy with me now. She doesn't like to be contradicted, that's what Konrad told me once and now I see why he went to so many dates when she was set on “marrying him well”. 

“Guntram, Konrad's resources are much larger than ours. This should be your responsibility,” she told me clearly. 

“I'm facing 72% of a fine which includes all of you.” I growled. “The least you could do is to throw a coin or two into the charity box.” 

“You're asking me to endanger my children's position,” Carolina said. “No.” 

“Is that your last word?” I asked incredulously. “What should I do then?” 

“Sell the companies, look into your own saving boxes.” Elisabetta told me with an acrid tone and I really lost it there. 

“I already did, and I'm still missing two billion, even if I liquidate stocks, bonds, physical gold and take all our cash.”

“Sell companies or properties.” 

“I'll repeat what I've been just told; it needs time. Months to be precise and after taxes, there will be very little left.” 

“Check the other accounts,” Carolina told me in my face. 

“I did but it isn't that easy.” 

Fuck; it's a mess to get the money back here without getting all tax-hounds on my back and a thousand years for “tax-havening” or whatever the crime is called. Michel told me very clear to stay away from that and he knows a little about tax law. We should have used his services more and don’t be so much on the stingy side. “I'm only asking for your help.” I pleaded. 

“We are willing to do anything, dear.” Elisabetta told me calmly. 

“Then you can transfer money to the accounts the judge already established.” 

“No, I think we should appeal his decision. You must be able to do something. This fine is simply ridiculous and out of scale. We were never placed in such position. Start to get serious with the judge, Guntram.” 

“If you're thinking along the lines of blackmail, try something else.” I replied and I heard a collective gasp in the room. “I could go to the press and say that the prosecutor likes young girls or that the judge was taking five million from a certain company or that some people in the FINMA have their hands very dirty, but it will only slow down things. We would need a new judge and to start all anew. Your suggestion could cost us months, a time we don't have.” 

“I wasn't thinking on something so radical.” Elisabetta fulminated me with her blue eyes. “Why don't you contest the amount? Use the lawyers.” She looked at my father as if he were a hound.  

“I could but it will be the same or do you prefer to leave your son to rot in prison for some years till I get a bargain?” 

She rose from her chair. “I will not give you a single cent, Guntram. You're unfit to lead us. We will follow our own path in the courtrooms.” 

“Do it and you doom us all,” I said. “This settlement is the best thing we can aspire to.”  

“We can reach an arrangement. Ferdinand can do it,” Cecilia told me. “His hands aren't as dirty as your husband's.” 

“This isn't America where traitors are rewarded,” I spat the words. “Very well, if you want to part ways, I should do the same.” 

Fortunately, Michel interfered in the right moment, just before I would have sent them to hell and focused only on Konrad's troubles. I don’t have to cope with Konrad’s court of beggars/relatives. They never miss a bonus day but the losses are all your fault. 

“This whole argument is pointless.” Michel spoke with a clear and cold voice that made everybody in the room to look at him. “The Swiss system is playing on our side and is quite friendly to us, one might say. Breaking this gentlemen’s pact we have reached is the worst course of action we might take. You'd lose our judiciary teams and believe me, I'd move in to get my client out of jail, placing all the blame on the people whose signatures are in many documents. Konrad von Lintorff is the main game here and we all know what he's capable of and how he reacts to treason. The Vicomte would be able to gather the missing money, but the consequences on the alliances you have forged over decades, would be heavier than you can imagine.” 

My father can be more terrifying than anybody else in the whole Order. 

“Show your good will and the Consort will do his best to help you out. Go against him and you are on your own, just as the Americans want.” 

“All of you have cash in tax havens,” I added laconically. “We must bring money back from there and find a way to do it discreetly, without arising suspicions.”

“Guntram, it's too much what you're asking, mate,” Armin told me. 

“Just tell me how much you will bring in.” I replied through clenched teeth. “Your uncle deserves your help.” Armin cast his eyes down. “Carolina, Elisabetta?” I asked and both women looked at me upset. “Don't blame me on the consequences,” I said softly and left the library. 

I went to my own bedroom as I needed to think. Friederich was there, organizing things for the fifth or sixth time. He looked at me anxiously and I shook my head. “Only 12 million from Monika, twenty-something from Merenghetti's wife and nothing else.” 

“Only that? Surely the princess will help her son or Madame von Kleist.” 

“They're the worst kind of scum we can have as family. Konrad is supposed to allot the whole bill and be quiet because it's all his fault. Everybody were taking money from him very happily but now, when he needs them, they're running away like traitors and cowards.” 

Friederich looked dejected. 

“Don't worry, Friederich. I won't leave Konrad and I'll get the money no matter what I have to do. My father will help me with that.” 

He sat on one of the chairs and he looked totally destroyed. “Old enemies are friends and friends are... Karl Heinz really trusted these people,” he told me softly.  

“Nothing like gold to make us show our true colors,” I said and sat in front of him, holding his hand. It was so cold. “I wasn't expecting this outcome at all. I mean, even John Althorpe offered me 300 million on loan at zero percent for as long as I need it.” 

“He's a good man,” Friederich said mind absently. “He didn't profit from the situation as many would have.” 

“Yes, he is.” I knelt in front of him. “I've done many things these past weeks, things I'm ashamed of and given orders I would never have just to get Konrad back. I swear to you, that I will not stop until he's back home.” 

“This whole situation is destroying your soul as well.” Friederich had clouded eyes. “I never wanted this for you.” 

“This is what God decided I have to face. You're the first person to say God carefully measures His tests for us. Have faith. We will prevail.”

“Faith is what I'm losing now.” He told me and I my whole world trembled because he's our island of strength when the storm rages against us. He's our father and shepherd. Without him, we are lost sheep. 

“Don't do that. I'm stronger than ever.” I gave him a hug because I needed one. 

I watched him going away and he looked so despondent. All this has been too much for him and I want to stop this madness before it's too late. Friederich is over seventy-eight now. He shouldn't be carrying all this weight over his shoulders. 

I went to see how the children were doing with Eberhard and stayed with them as they finished their homework for the day. Later I took them for a walk in the forest. Upon our return, Michel was waiting for me at the library. 

“Getting money out from the Lintorffs and their associates is always a pleasure for me,” he smirked and I gaped at him. “It's not what you wanted but 893 million is a good amount.” 

“You got it?” I was shocked to say the least. How on earth? They shut the door on my face. 

“Of course, but your political family won't visit you this Christmas... Or any other. People like them don't like to get a full description of the mud their crystal shoes are treading on. It has always been like that.”

“At this point, they can go fuck themselves.” 

“I have another 346 million from Pavicevic. The dyspeptic Serb knows where they are.” 

“We are almost there,” I sighed in utter relief. I was as if the Everest was taken off my shoulders.

“Almost but not there.” Michel pointed out. “The money should be channelled through the proper channels.” 

“We could get a bit through Singapore or Hong Kong and then, find a way to get it in the Continent, maybe as loans to the companies.”

“No my child. If you do that, you'll get all the Interpol on you.” 

“I could try my luck with Konrad's friends but I doubt very much they'd help.”  

“Forget about them. This is a family matter.” 

“Albert's? That bank is as good as dead.” 

“No: your real family.” 

“Do you have a bank hidden somewhere?” Knowing him, he could be the president of the Chase Manhattan and one of the long-lost Rockefellers. 

“Your granduncle,” Michel looked very irritated at me as I looked clueless. The Guttenberg Sachsen have less money than anyone else around here. “You're hopeless, Guntram. From your mother's side. Charles once offered his help but you refused it.” 

“The old bank in Geneva you visited with Lefebvre? St. Lazarre. Charles de Mornay, husband of your mother's aunt Lara Strinberg. You should also take a look at your own genealogical tree.” Michel sighed upset.

“De Mornay is a mason and we're not in best terms with them.”

“Thanks to your husband,” Michel pointed out acidly. “You had fantastic connections in the financial world and he ruined them.” 

“He won't even want to see me.” 

“Try your luck. His wife loved your mother and he might be a bit afraid that he's next in line if the authorities launch any kind of comprehensive investigation. Most of old banking houses are.” 

* * * 

Punta del Este, Uruguay

June 26^th, 2014

LOVE TRIANGLE AND MURDER? 

Dima blinked several times at the headline in The New York Post. Had it not been because of the front-page picture of a very young Guntram along with Lintorff's, he would have never bothered to read such a tabloid. “Ese también,” he said with some difficulty to the lady taking care of the news stand. 

The Turn of the Screw by Moira Stephens

A few months after Guntram de Lisle's birth, the estranged husband and partner of the jailed for massive tax evasion scandal Swiss banker Konrad von Lintorff, his uncle, Roger de Lisle met with said banker in Paris at the Ritz Hotel where they shared a suite and dinner at candlelight.

Roger de Lisle's father, Armand, Viscount of Marignac was the owner of the Crédit Auvergne, a medium-size bank that despite its name, was established in Poitiers. Roger was working at a brokerage firm in Paris while his elder brother Pascal de Lisle was one of the key figures at Credit Mediterranée, one of the brokerage firms owned by Konrad von Lintorff himself.  

According to several sources this journalist has interviewed, their relationship went beyond professional meetings and both men loved to work late hours. Roger de Lisle was married to Augusta zu Löwenstein, niece of the well-known lawyer Gustav zu Löwenstein who was also one of Karl Heinz von Lintorff's, Konrad's father, closest business partners. 

According to several witnesses of the time, Roger and Konrad led their relationship in total secret for the next six years until the bankruptcy of Crédit Auvergne allegedly ended it.

The morning September 20^th, 1989, the French Police raided the offices of Crédit Auvergne in Paris under the strong suspicion that the de Lisle family might be committing fraud and embezzlement. The Vicomte was accused of organizing one of the first Ponzi schemes in France with the money from middle size businessmen who trusted their savings into the bank. The night before the Viscount and his three sons were to be arrested, Pascal's family and his father sealed a suicidal pact and killed themselves along with their three children. A month later, Jerôme de Lisle jumped to his death in his Parisian flat, leaving his young son, Guntram (7) under the care of a tutor in Argentina. 

Roger de Lisle was the only surviving brother of the three de Lisle heirs and disappeared to avoid facing criminal charges for fraud. 

It is remarkable the resemblance of Mr. de Lisle with his young nephew. (see insert pictures of Guntram de Lisle aged 17 -photo taken from St. George's School's yearbook- and Roger de Lisle -archive-) Perhaps this uncanny resemblance between the two relatives, looking more like father and son, led Konrad von Lintorff to start a new romance or rekindle and old one. It makes one wonder about the thin borders between “political” nephews and uncles walk in their relationships.  

According to several witnesses, Guntram de Lisle met Konrad von Lintorff on Christmas 2001, in Venice. Since that day, Mr. de Lisle and Lintorff had been inseparable partners and married in August 2012 in Sweden. Despite their outstanding age difference -25 years- they have a sound relationship and three children. 

The internet news website based in Austin, Texas, “Independent Times” has made allegations that one of their reporters, Mr. Trevor Jones contacted Roger de Lisle on several occasions because of their investigation on the murky role of Lintorff Privatbank during Radovan Morozov's alleged implication in a weapon smuggling ring in the former URSS. According to Mr. Jones' widow, Roger de Lisle provided the Independent Times with valuable information and contacts. On December 6^th. 2006, during their investigation of the connections between the presumably late gastronomic businessman, Mr. Slobodan Majardze and Radovan Morozov's entourage, Roger de Lisle and Trevor Jones suffered an unexplainable car crash that resulted in their deaths. Despite Mr. Jones' family claims over the strange circumstances surrounding the accident, the Spanish Police refused to investigate the proofs of the car's manipulation presented by the rental car company's insurance. Mrs. Jones' entourage also affirmed that Roger de Lisle tried to contact his nephew several times but Konrad von Lintorff's security entourage aggressively prevented it. 

One can wonder if Mr. de Lisle knew about his uncle's entanglement with the Duke. According to some sources, Mr. de Lisle never met his uncle in person or ever had contact with his family after his father's death. His late lawyer's secretary confirmed this as his legal tutor was never able to make contact with the child's living relatives. Perhaps all this may come as a shock to Mr. Guntram de Lisle as he navigates through his second family bankruptcy.

Perhaps, Mr. de Lisle should ask Henry James' Governess for advice as he has to deal with two ghosts while his own identity dilutes in the past.  

“Fuck,” Dima mumbled once he had read the piece and carefully checked all the pictures. Guntram and his uncle looked like twin brothers. “All of them nuts. Bonkers.” 

“Eww, fucking your own nephew,” Dima shivered as he sat back in his car and started the engine. “The boy was a hundred times better with the boss than with that creep of Lintorff.”

“No, it can't be true. Boss made that up.” Dima thought as he approached the house. He parked under the eucalyptus tree line and felt as if he were a thousand years old. The Guntram he knew was a god-dammed goody and he would have never done something like this. Not knowingly, at least. If he did then, Massaiev was more right than anyone had ever thought; the youth was beyond nuts. 

Dima didn't bother to kick the massive bird standing guard in front of the main entrance. He simply jumped over the oversized grey hen, which loudly expressed its disagreement with his out of tune squawks, pecks and wingbeats. Dima smiled nervously at the young child giggling at the furious bird and entered in the house, staining the floor with fresh mud. 

“Boss, you must see this,” the Chechen said out of breath after he burst into Constantin's library without knocking. 

The Russian cast a glance at the newspaper’s front page and went for the interior pages, reading the article under Dima's anxious scrutiny. The Chechen began to pace around Constantin's desk and only a light cough from him made Dima stop and sit on one of the chairs in the corner, patiently waiting for Constatin to finish his reading. 

“If this is all what the bright minds of American journalism can come up with, then there are no doubts that the Empire is dying.” Constantin folded the tabloid and nonchalantly dropped it over his desk. 

“It's disgusting what they write. Incest. I mean, there are things...” 

“It's horribly written and that double meaning use of a literary masterpiece, is simply disgusting. I'm only glad that with those vulgar remarks, she'll arise the gay community's wrath. Irony isn't something you learn in the Wikipedia. She’s as good as dead. Professionally speaking, of course. Something else, Klatschko?” 

Dima stood in front of the desk, balancing his weight from one foot to the other. He was undecided about what else to say as Constantin had returned to his work, totally disregarding him. 

“Boss, that's too much for the boy. I mean, of all your boys, Guntram was the best,” Dima protested with a small voice. “Getting even with Lintorff is good, but that could kill him.” 

“Guntram, the best thing that ever happened to me? I beg to differ,” Constantin snorted, upset at the interruption. “Don't worry, he will survive it.” 

“Boss, this whole story is disgusting. I mean, lying about this kind of things...” 

“A lie? Not a single line written in that excuse of a newspaper is a falsehood. All is true and I learned it directly from dear Guntram's father. Do you want to see the pictures and letters I have from Lintorff and Roger? The New York Post keeps copies of them.” 

“Is it true?” Dima was horrified. “Did he know...?” 

“Thanks to Lintorff's mother and the late Roger de Lisle. Why do you think they split? Now that the truth is in the air, their “marriage” is over. Velvet gloves never helped anyone. I give them six months before they split and Guntram runs back to me.”

* * *

June 27^th 2014 

Zurich

“Guti, there's something I need to tell you,” Fedérico said shyly as he squeezed the iPad in his hands. 

“Whatever you want to do with John, you have my blessing and don't forget to invite me to the wedding.” Guntram rose his eyes from the papers he had been reading. 

“No, it isn't that,” he said embarrassed. 

“Look, if it is about Mirko, he's fine in France.” Guntram said. 

“No, I couldn't care less about him. It's well over and I'm with John. It's something else,” he grimaced and Guntram looked at him clueless. “Look, there's no way to tell it nicely. Just read this shit.” A mortified Fefo left the electronic devise on top of the desk and took several steps backwards. 

Guntram's eyes frantically roamed through the words and though he was able to understand them individually, he wasn't able to comprehend what he was reading. 

He needed to start again as he couldn't believe what he had just read. 

The iPad was left over the table and Guntram covered his face with his hands. 

“It's a filthy lie, Guti,” Fefo said. “We'll get the lawyers to sue the shit out of them. This is too much. I mean, this is over the top. I'll get that Lacroix and then, his legal team will...” 

“No, Fefo. It won't be necessary. Not for the time being,” Guntram said tiredly and Fefo saw how red his eyes were. “Just keep the newspapers away from my boys and Friederich.” 

Guntram looked ashen and had to grip the desk to dismiss the funny sensation of being permanently falling from a cliff. The contact with the wood didn't make him feel better. He only wanted to throw up. 

“Could you please tell Monika to offer my excuses and cancel my appointments for today?” Guntram rose from his chair. “I'd like to lay down for a while.” Suddenly, the whole library was invaded by dark spots which danced around and burst in bright colors. 

“I'm calling your doctor now,” Fefo said. 

“No, no need to. Call the lawyer, Lacroix and ask him if he can join me after the courts are over. I'd like to speak with him about this.” Guntram took a few drunken steps towards the door and Fefo caught him by his waist. 

“I'll take you to your bed, now.” Fefo said and pushed the door opened, nearly dragging the dazed Guntram along with him. Monika stood and she averted her eyes when Guntram passed next to her. 

“Lend me a hand, will you, Stephan?” Fefo told to one of the Serbs standing in the corridor. The man rushed to him and easily caught Guntram, steadying him against his body. Between the two men, they slowly walked down the corridor and climbed the main stairwell and crossed the corridor to reach the tower.

Inside the large bedroom, Guntram sat on his bed and sighed. Stephan took the gigantic dog out with a firm hand while Fedérico began to pull from Guntram's jacket and tie. 

“It's OK. I can do it alone,” Guntram mumbled and Fedérico rose his hands in defense. “I'm just going to lay down for a minute. 

“How do you feel? Chest pain?” 

“No, just dizzy. The boys should never see this newspaper.” Guntram needed to lay down and close his eyes to fight the nausea. 

“Of course they won't see it.” Fedérico said. “I'm confiscating their mobiles right now.” 

“Don't do that. It isn't their fault, really. The boys will only think that I'm punishing them over something.” 

“The lawyers will force these pricks to withdraw all this shit. I'm calling your doctor now.” 

Guntram felt so weak that he didn't think about contesting Fedérico's actions or decisions. He only wanted to forget what he had just read. His life was in shambles. 

'That's what they all think about us; incestuous.'

'My boys could never go to any school without being bullied for that as if our marriage didn't give bullies enough cause.' 

'What Am I going to do?' 

“Don't worry about those assholes,” Fedérico's voice interrupted Guntram's downwards spiral into despair. “Nobody with any brains will believe that lie.” 

Guntram gulped and his guilty expression didn't go unnoticed to Fedérico. “Oh, shit,” he said in a coarse voice. “It can't be true, Guti.” 

“I know it since 2006.” Guntram's voice was almost indistinct. “I really tried to stop it, but I couldn't leave him. Many more people knew about it.” 

Fedérico needed to unceremoniously sit on his friend's bed. “Shit!” he cursed. “I never liked Lintorff but...” he kept the rest of the tirade to himself when he saw Guntram's pained expression and settled for a mumbled “pervert”. “All right, you have my word that the boys won't find it out.” 

“It's on the internet. Everybody knows it by now.” 

“Everyone will forget it by tomorrow,” Fefo shook his head unconsciously denying his previous words with his body language. “Look, I'm not judging you and that's your thing, but know that I'm a hundred percent on your side.” 

“I know,” Guntram's head felt like a ton and he needed to close his eyes. 

“I'm getting your fucking doctor here,” the young man mumbled and escaped from the room as Dieter, the butler entered in the room to help his young master to change into his bedclothes.

* * *

“Guntram?” Fedérico asked his half-awake friend. “John is here and would like to see you.” 

“John? John Althorpe?” Guntram asked still a bit dozed from the sedatives the doctor had injected him. 

“The same. Even brought you flowers,” Fefo smiled. “But I'm out. Don't want the others to get jealous because I got a millionaire.” He winked at Guntram and he weakly smiled in return, thinking that Milan or Ratko wouldn't be so enthusiastic about John. 

John charged in the room and gave a large closed squared box to Guntram. “For you,” he said and Guntram mumbled an embarrassed “thank you”. 

“Chocolate flowers? My doctor won't approve of them,” Guntram chuckled at the lifelike “bouquet” made of chocolate, fondant and marzipan that nearly seemed to spring out of the box. 

“They ain't for you but for your children. Amazing all the things they do here with sugar.” The bear size man sat on the brocade chair in front of the bed. “Fedérico told me about your relapse and I thought about visiting you.” 

“You're a great friend, John.” 

“I hope that's not your nice way of telling me that I've gained a few pounds,” John joked. 

“You know I'd never say something like that.”  

“Just don't set me up with Austrian royals. I just saw that haughty pest working near the chapel” John shook his head. “I'm supposed to be very glad after he bothered to nod at me like the fucking Queen of England, the fu...”

“Oh! I really forgot about Christoph! He's been working there since a month.” Guntram interfered before John's rants would have gone further. “You almost don't hear him.” 

“You or your people didn’t speak with my people about my offer. Seriously, I'm not doing you a favor; I'm keeping that Yellen witch’s hand out of my pocket or keeping myself from being robbed by that Draghi. Can you believe that I have to pay to make a deposit now? I'm going to spend all my money on booze and Fabergé eggs before I give it to them.” John said adamantly. “You should tell me where you want it.” 

“About the newspapers...” Guntram started but his voice broke. “The New York Post...” 

“I don't read things meant for middle-class Joes.” John said with sufficiency. “I hang out with royals and they don't read newspapers. That's for the cattle.”

Guntram looked sombre and John sighed. “Getting sour about it won't help you at all.”

“I really don't know what to do.” 

“Get a good lawyer and sue the shit out of them. Easy.” 

“The damage is done. They won't take it back and the copies won't disappear. My boys' lives are ruined. Each time somebody google us, all this trash will be again on display.” 

“I wouldn't be so dramatic. It will pass soon... or you'll get your own TV show.”

“Don't make jokes about it. The doctor just put me to sleep for being too nervous.” 

“I'm not kidding. Girls all over the world are crazier about that photo of you in your school uniform than about anything else. I mean, they all want to know if you have biological children and how old are they.” 

“What?” shouted Guntram. 

“Welcome to the XXI Century, Guntram. You should have made your own sex-tape and then, I guarantee you, we would get you elected President of USA.” 

“It's really not funny,” Guntram growled.

“You live with that old guy and see what happens?” John said earnestly. “You lose contact with reality. At the moment, there's a media frenzy. Use it to your own advantage. You look cute, ladies love you, end of story. You could be a mass murderer and everything would be fine.” 

Slowly, the idea began to form in Guntram's mind. “Are you telling me that we aren't the laughing stock of the world?” 

“Maybe you are, but nobody dares to say it. Do you want to be branded a bigot? No way. Besides, Lintorff isn't your relative. Keep your head high and ignore the thing while the lawyers kill off that tabloid. 

“From one fellow American to another who has never lived there, who the fuck cares what you do with him?” 

“It isn't that easy, John. All the people I know, won't like this. If we were already outcasts, now we are lepers. I'm socially dead.”

“I don't think the people in that posh party at the Savoy think the same -I saw your picture in “Hello”-, maybe they're a bit jealous they weren't mentioned and you did.” 

“Am I in “Hello”? Jesus!” Guntram couldn't help to swear. 

“Yep. By the way, you should do me a favor and speak with this Martinelli dude and ask him to see me. He's so hot nowadays that there aren't any free dates till 2016! I need trousers now, not when I'm dead!” 

“What?” Guntram croaked. 

“It's your fault for looking so good along with that stupid Russian girl who said who your tailor was. Now that guy is the new Armani. All the rich Chinese want to discover the hidden luxury and they pack the stores where I was supposed to be shopping like a royal without pests or tacky paper bags around.”

“I know no Chinese,” Guntram protested. 

“Maybe you don’t, but they know you. And Japanese too. Especially girls. You're an orphan and that's hot.”

Guntram looked at John in utter disbelief as his mind raced to understand all what had been said. 

“On top, you look like a twenty-five-year-old. Any secret cream I can unveil to the internet crowds and get my share of public attention? No, wait. Better I’ll sell it.” 

“John please, stop pulling my legs.” 

“I'm a bit concerned that with all the attention you're getting, maybe they see a photo of my Fedérico and boom! Someone wants to rob him from me. He's quite hot in his princely manner. I saw him first.”

“Yes, you did,” mumbled Guntram. “Don't worry, I'll only use non-handsome bodyguards from now on. My own beauty can't be overshadowed now,” he added with irony.

“Yeah, those Serbs will do the part. No question about it.” 

Guntram fixed his gaze on one of the corners of the room as he thought hard. “The people I know won't talk to me any longer.” 

“Who cares when you have a million followers? But your true friends will stick with you, like that hot gaucho I'm dating.” 

“Should I give him a free day?” 

“Yeah, tomorrow for example. I'm visiting houses here. Could use some help.” 

“Are you going to stay here?” 

“For your own protection. Fedérico told me you scared the shit out of some poor ecologists. If you run a supermarket now, you need the king of retail shops to guide your first baby-steps.” 

“I wouldn't ask you to do that.” 

“Let's make a deal. You name one of those super-mega rich-exclusive shits you use, I get the exclusive rights to market it and then, sell it in my new chain of luxury stores. I'll teach you a few things about real management.” 

“All right,” sighed Guntram. “But I still have to face everybody.” 

“Deny, deny and deny. And look good. That's all you need to do. If they don't want to talk to you. Great! One fucker less to cope with.” 

“You really know how to face things.” 

“Thank my hippie mother,” shrugged John. “This isn't the worst I've seen.” 

“I don't know what to do.” 

“Get a public relations jerk. They know what to do.” 

“Maybe that's the best advice I've got in weeks.” Guntram smiled weakly. 

“And don't work so hard. Fedérico tells me you're everyday up to one in the morning and start at six. You can't handle all that stress.” 

“I must.” Guntram said. 

“No, you don't.” John's voice was serious and that gave Guntram pause. “You have to set priorities and take some time off to yourself.” 

“And Konrad?” Guntram asked. “I can't leave him alone.”  

“That's your number one priority, not all of his business. There are many people who have more interest than you to keep the Titanic afloat, starting by your employees with their nice salaries, benefits and bonuses. Make those lazy CEOs work. You have enough money on your own to buy a yacht and make your own Gaugin tour around Mustique. Were you even there?” 

“Never. I never went anywhere. I have to control these people. You'd be amazed of all the booby-traps I keep finding everyday. Small mistakes here and there that cost me money.” 

“Fire somebody. Have you ever done it?” 

“Just once and it wasn't a real sacking. I just transferred him and I still feel guilty because he was... Fedérico's former boyfriend.” 

“You have my unending love for that. Send him to the South Pole. Anyway, set an example. You're too nice.” 

'If you knew...' thought Guntram. “You're right, John,” he said dejectedly. “I'll do it. I have a long list of undesirable people. The next jerk who lays hands on the dough is dead.” 

* * *

Full of doubts, mostly because of the late hour, Guntram dialed his neighbor's number. “Julius? It's me, Guntram,” he said slowly.

“Well, the king of Instagram remembers he lives beneath me,” Julius greeted him. “Lots of people ask me about you and now, the Greenpeace or whatever demonstrators we had last week, have been replaced by fangirls. That's way worse for me. I'm sick of seeing cheap copies of good things.” 

“I'm sorry if I'm causing you trouble. I really don't know what to do about it...” 

“Trouble? Record number of little girls signing up for my school. I'm indebted to you.” 

Relieved beyond words as then Julius would be willing to help him, Guntram carefully chose his next words. “I'm a bit overwhelmed by all this...” 

“You should but I'm no one to judge you. Lord, if you knew...” 

“I don't know how to handle all this publicity. Really not. I hate all the press around me, the comments and everything. I'm a private person.” 

“More like a hermit,” Julius interrupted him. 

“I understand that there are some people who... might like me.” 

“Yeah, you're quite famous but don't get it to your head. Like Warhol said, these are your fifteen minutes of fame.” 

“I need to gain some support for my husband's case,” Guntram continued nervously. “The judge behaves like a total jerk and with all this bad publicity we are getting...” 

“Your problem is that you need to open up. Post photos of you and hire someone to interact with your fans. They might not look like much but going viral is like becoming god.” 

“Do you know someone you could recommend me?” 

“Sure, I'll send you her address. Laura is great and she has a very capable team. They run many celebrity accounts. Speak with her. She knows best.” 

After hanging up, Guntram was full of doubts. The idea of depending on the whim of several “fangirls” drove him even more nervous. Thousands of girls drooling over him weren't impressive enough as to swindle a judge to his side and his father had already told him very clearly that the man was turning a blind eye on most things. 

He needed money quickly and perhaps his “granduncle” wouldn't switch off his phone. 

Anyway, having some public sympathy could come handy too. People focusing on his tailor instead of his relationship with Konrad could be a thousand times better than having the paparazzi crying “incest” all around him.