TS 3 Chapter 3

Chapter 3

June 15^th, 2015

Abu Dhabi Airport

“Otets!!” Kurt yelled as he strongly pulled Guntram's jacket to get his attention. Guntram looked down at the little boy, astonished by the use of that unfamiliar word and his eyes followed the small finger pointed well beyond his back. 

Guntram's blood froze when he saw the figure standing in front of him. Kurt disentangled himself from Guntram's hold and ran to the man, quickly jumping to his open arms. 

'He can't possibly remember him,' Guntram shook his head as the phrase went over and over through his head. He felt dizzy and needed to support himself against the pristine marble corridor wall. The coldness of the material permeated itself through his jacket and shirt; his back spine could feel each irregularity in the stone. He lifted his eyes to look beyond Constantin's frame and saw Dima and three other men he vaguely remembered from his years in Siberia. 

Constantin prattled in Russian with his child although the boy couldn't say many words and even less form a full sentence but the way he clung to the man's neck showed how happy he was to see Constantin again. 

The Russian smiled, kissed the child on the cheek and quickly passed him to the arms of Dima who also spoke a few words to him, making him smile. With long strides, the men walked away and Guntram sprang to his feet and walked towards them but Constantin's stare silenced him. 

“Of all the stupid things you've done in your life, Guntram, this is by far the greatest.” Constantin used that calm, slow and patronizing tone he employed each time he was about to explode in a burst of deadly violence. 

Guntram took three steps back as his eyes followed the four men quickly going away. 

“Are you really considering to throw a tantrum in an Islamic country, Guntram? Remember, Dima is a Muslim Chechen and he has the upper hand over you.” Constantin said softly as threw a disdainful gaze over Guntram. 

Guntram forced himself to calm down and quiet his mind, bombarding him with thousands of questions. 'Panicking won't help me,' he told to himself. 

“That's much better,” Constantin said when he saw Guntram regain his usual aristocratic demeanor. 

“You swore to be out of my life. Forever.” 

“I promised to leave you alone for as long as you lived but your life is something that's going to end very soon when you stand in front of that immigration desk. What were you thinking when you decided to run away and come here? No better, were you using your brains at all? You're a dead man walking since the moment you called your friend, the sheik.” 

“Konrad hasn't any power in here,” Guntram defended himself. 

“I didn't mean him.” 

“I don't understand you.” 

“Thirty something and you're still as foolish as they come. Were you truly sitting at the Hochmeister’s office? Allow me to doubt it.” 

“Where's Kurt? Give me my child back.” 

“Conor is my child too. I have the same rights over him as you or even more as I'm the only sane parent he has.” Constantin seethed and Guntram forced himself to calm down and bit his lips to keep muffled the screams he felt inside him. Fighting with Constantin was useless.

“Are you better?” Constantin asked defiantly once he saw Guntram had regained once more his usual aristocratic air. “I wouldn't trust the services of the local doctors if I were you. I've been many more times than you doing business in Islamic countries and they come before you, if you understand me.” 

“I do,” whispered Guntram. “Where's Ku…Conor?” Playing along was safer. Constantin was on the edge and that way he had of clearing his throat forbade nothing good. 

“On his way to my own plane. You can come along too but don't think even for a minute that I will let you take him downtown Abu Dhabi. This place is going to be roasted by the Russians any of these days. They're only waiting for an excuse and Arabs are so arrogantly stupid that they will provide a good one very soon.” 

“Nobody would dare to touch them. Why? The Emiratis have nothing to do with anything.”

Constantin rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I can't believe it,” he mumbled. “Maybe geniuses are closer to idiocy than anyone ever realized before,” he told Guntram while the young man looked at him clueless. 

“My dear Guntram, in case you didn't notice you passed the thirty-year-old threshold some years ago. At that point, your Adonis' charms begin to fade at an incredible speed. You're not game any more. It's the age you start to chase young men and if someone chases after you it's because he's half-blind or he's so ugly that no wallet can remedy it. Your Emirati friend doesn't fall into any of those categories and he's certainly not after your money because that's peanuts for him. So what do we have left? Not your bed sportsmanship, that's for sure.” 

“Let me think.” Constantin frowned mockingly as he thought. “I have it. The man you're married to and surprise, surprise, the office you held for a few months. You must know a lot of things about Vladimir Putin's best ally in Switzerland. At least you must have a pretty good idea of their resources and plans. So, let's court the little idiot.” 

“It's not like this.” Guntram said dismayed.  

“In denial as usual. Let me guess. He offered you a working visa in one of his companies.” Constantin snorted. “Sign those papers and you'll be his legal slave; he will keep your passport and you'll become a Nepali of a higher born. You can't leave the country until he gives you permission! It's their law! And people were criticizing me!” Constantin's anger finally exploded and he needed to take a few calming breaths before he could return to his usual calm self. His throat felt bruised after such a little exchange and his mood worsened. Blatant idiocy just drove him mad. 

“Suit yourself, Guntram. It's not my problem really. But Conor is. You're invited to come along with me or cross those doors and see what happens after your grandiose fuck with him.”

“Altair isn't like that.” Guntram shook his head but the memories of the many articles he had read about exploited foreign workers in Arabic countries flooded his mind. 'Konrad never did business with them and religion had nothing to do with it. But Constantin knows Arabs very well.'

“Oh, did you tell him what you've been doing in Marseilles? I don't think these people take desecration lightly. Do you really think Arabs know nothing? That they go around the world splashing cash everywhere? That they're retarded? Born yesterday?” 

“No,” Guntram admitted embarrassed and dismayed at the same time.

“If Lintorff doesn't kill you this time for good, your friend will do it when you don't deliver what he wants.” 

Constantin's words felt like a stab in the stomach. “He told me he would fix everything with immigration.” 

“You truly were born yesterday, Guntram,” Constantin shook his head and began to walk in Dima's direction. He truly wanted to strangle Guntram for his utter foolishness that put his son at risk. 

Guntram gaped at the retreating form and felt at a loss. Unsure and disoriented. One more look at the signs written in English and Arab made his stomach churn. Had Altair really? He didn't want to formulate the question and find the answer that had been lurking in his mind since he had left Geneva. 

But the pieces of the puzzle fit with mathematical perfection. Altair wasn't the love-struck man he thought. He knew too much about him, exceedingly too much; his father and everything surrounding his life. Fairuza didn't know half of it and she had been with Michel for a long time. Michel would have never knowingly put her in danger. Everything surrounding Altair's knowledge about him or Konrad was too much of an elaborate ruse for a tumble or two. It just made no sense and he had been blinded by his desire to be loved, grief and rage to see it. There was something inside him screaming that Altair wouldn't harm him but betrayal permeated every aspect of his life. He couldn't afford the luxury of a mistake. Not now. 

Constantin had his child.  

The fake passports Guntram had with him -though he had given his real name to the airline company- were a good cause for an arrest. If anyone were to find those Maltese passports with false names, he would be in real trouble. He had never thought about the consequences of “sponsorship” laws but every word Constantin had said was true. 

Guntram quietly swore but began to walk fast in direction of the smaller and smaller figure, nearly disappearing over the long corridor. 

“Wait for me!” Guntram rose his voice, panting and Constantin, a good fifty meters away from him stopped. 

Guntram had to hurry to catch up with Constantin and grimaced at the sharp pain he felt on his chest. He panted loudly and had to put a hand on the wall to steady himself. 

“Dropping dead right here will not help you much, will it?” Constantin said coldly. 

“Why are you helping me if you despise me so much?” 

“I'm not helping you. I'm helping my child. Unfortunately, he carries a heavy baggage along. Are we clear?”

Guntram glared at Constantin but his inner voice merrily reminded him 'Well, you fucked around with almost half Siberia, right under his nose. The guy has some sort of right to be mad at you'. “Very,” he mumbled and cast his eyes down. “Do you think we can evade them?” 

“I used to be an arms dealer, Guntram. One of their best, too. My people have free access to this place. Lord, how dumb can you be?” Constantin smirked. “I probably know more about their affairs than this... Altair?” Constantin resumed his walk for a little while and stopped in front of a locked “only personnel” door. 

“We can't leave the airport....” Guntram protested but Constantin sighed and passed a card through a card reader. The door opened automatically showing a flight of stairs going downwards, to the airfields. 

“Don't worry, we already unloaded the cargo. There's nothing illegal in the plane now.” Constantin began to descend the stairs down and Guntram followed him meekly. 

“What?” Guntram croaked dismayed. 'What the hell?' 

“You can't visit old friends empty handed. Can you? Just a new concoction to add a bit of flare to the battlefield. I must be getting old because half a ton of pills isn't that easy to produce any more or lab people are getting more and more lazy. Anyway, their Saudi cousins must be very happy with what they got.” 

Guntram stopped dead on his tracks and the word formed in his lips but no noise came out from his mouth. 

“Don't give me that goody stare, Hochmeister,” huffed Constantin and Guntram turned his head around. “And no, it wasn't Captagon. That's cheap material. Mine is a hundred times better, with almost none of those withdrawal symptoms that prevent you to get on time to the Mosque.” 

Constantin stopped in front of a thick glass door and again swiped the card through the reader, tapping the floor impatiently when Guntram seemed to take longer than expected to descend the last flair of stairs and join him. 

The black Bentley standing outside felt ominous to Guntram and he stopped on his tracks, undecided. 

“You really don't want to be stuck in this hell hole when Putin starts blowing it up. You have no idea of what a thermobaric bomb can do.” 

The chauffeur dashed to open the car door for Constantin and he set one foot inside the vehicle. “Make up your mind fast. I'm not staying under this lovely 50º C weather for much longer.” 

The scorching heat engulfed Guntram by surprise when he stepped out in the airport internal street. He panted heavily and felt the sweat drops fell down his nape. 'What choice do I have? At least he hasn't shot me as I thought he would.' 

Guntram walked straightforward to the Bentley and stepped in. 

“Well, you have some common sense left after all,” Constantin grimaced and Guntram glared at him making the Russian chuckle softly. The driver closed the door and the car began to recover some of its original cold temperature. Air conditioning felt like a bliss. 

“Being in a Bentley isn't the road to martyrdom,” Constantin gloated. 

Guntram turned his head around, purposely ignoring Constantin's taunts. Watching the parked planes as the car passed by them, soothed his nerves and helped him to regain some of his lost focus. His mind was still spinning around from one conspiracy to the next but he didn't know what else to do. Flying to the UEA had been a huge mistake but he didn't see any other way out. He was now officially in the Order's black list. 

The car stopped in front of a private Gulfstream jet and one of the men that had been with Dima rushed to open Constantin's door. Guntram followed him quietly and realized that once more he had left their luggage behind. 

“It's getting a habit,” he said out loud. 

“What? Me forcing you into a plane? You can still turn around and go home.” Constantin answered dryly. 

“Losing my suitcases. Must be the fifth of sixth I lose. I pack and I just lose them.” Guntram shrugged and brushed Constantin aside with a single gesture, climbing the stairwell up. 

'Crazy as usual,' thought Constantin and followed Guntram. 'Some things never change but keeping him on a short leash like Lintorff does is good. He has not shouted or started any dramas so far.' 

Sitting next to a veiled lady, Kurt was happily looking at a book while she smiled and spoke to him in a heavily accented English. “That's Dima's eldest daughter, Zaina.” Constantin told Guntram and when he walked towards the lady, Constantin held him by the elbow. “Wait until the father introduces you. Don't you know anything?” he whispered in his ear and dragged him to the other side of the cabin. 

Guntram frowned but then remembered that Dima was a Muslin; a sui generis believer because he would fast for Ramadan but get drunk every Saturday night with his friends telling “it's the Russian in me”. He only nodded at the girl who quickly diverted her eyes from him. 

Each one of Guntram's vertebral discs protested in pain when he sat in the plush leather seat, facing Constantin. The pain was swift and merciless but he ignored it as he was well aware it was only his stress speaking. A young stewardess served him a glass of mineral water without making any questions and he drank it, grateful for the gesture. Constantin was once more engulfed in his own things, purportedly ignoring him, as he read something on his mobile phone. 

“How should I call you now?” Guntram asked once Constantin put the phone back in his pocket. 

“Ah, that. I go by the name François Arseniev.” 

“French? You?” 

“Why not? I lived in France for nearly a decade as a child. My mother lived all her life in Paris.”

“Arseniev wasn't your mother's name? Konrad told me you were old Russian nobility.” 

“My great grand father was minister and advisor to the czar. Yes, that's true. We had some lands too. Malchenko's father was the one who should have inherited them if the Reds wouldn't have been in the middle. The family was clever enough as to realize that if a shabby student can shoot at an Imperial Councillor and get away only with execution, things were going downwards and moved to France. There was not a single Arseniev in St. Petersburg by 1917. I was the first to return there in 1979.” Constantin replied. 'Lintorff was right all the time. It took me some time to get it. Show no interest and he eats from your hand. Show a little care and he drives you nuts. Now I know what went wrong.' 

Guntram only nodded and weakly smiled, becoming distracted by the view of his son unpacking a Lego box and confidently sorting all the pieces by size under the astonished gaze of the girl while her tiny hands squeezed the Lego Instructions leaflet. 

“There's a lot of an engineer in him,” Guntram spoke softly. “He will never be an artist. He's always building things and looking for the maths inside them. He's after my Breguet watch just to dismount it.” 

“Children take some traits from the parents but then, it's up to them,” Constantin  replied softly. “There's some of your genius in them.” 

“Me? No, you don't understand Constantin. He's been forwarded three classes and wants to be in his brothers’ classes. He steals their homework -not that they defend it much- and makes it. The truth is that I can't keep up with him. It's not normal.” 

Constantin chuckled. “You always look for normalcy and boredom when you can't simply keep up with those. Once you fool somebody to provide them for you, you destroy that person because you can't dwell in grayness. That's the root of your neurosis, Guntram. Face it and don't try to impose it on everybody else. If Conor wants to shine, let him go to his limits and only control the damages. Holding yourself back never helped you. You finally explode and push your own limits.” Constantin sighed tiredly and lost interest in Guntram as Dima began to whisper something in his ear. 

Guntram, appalled by the words and the flight to the unknown ahead of him, focused all his attention on the oval window, watching the on land crew bustle themselves around the plane. He didn't want to think and watching anything was a good remedy for it. The outside soaring heat lulled his senses too and he wondered how he could have survived in such an environment. He barely noticed the stewardess serving him a dish full with fruits and more water. Tiredness clung to his bones and dragged him in a downward spiral he felt no desire to fight to. The sound of his son's voice, playing with the young girl, eased his nerves and gave him a false sense of security, something he had been longing for since he had left Zurich.  

“Don't you want to know where are we going?” Constantin broke the spell. 

“No, I imagine it's Russia.” 

“No, I have no intentions of returning there. My alliances lay somewhere else.” 

“You never retired, did you?” Guntram asked. 

“I'm retired from active duty if that's what you're asking, Guntram. In my line of work, retirement is never an option. We are high on demand, so to speak.” 

“Unfortunately,” Guntram fixed his eyes on the fruits. “I'm not a toucan, you know that?” 

“She didn't know if you had breakfast in the plane and you can't eat half of what's inside that kitchen. Conor also got one and ate it without complaints. Don't be so grumpy, Guntram.” 

“I'm sorry,” Guntram mechanically apologized. “Don't call him like that. His name is Kurt for Konrad. He won't respond to Conor.” 

Fury passed like a lightening flash through Constantin's eyes. “Kurt is fine,” he growled. “We won't spend much re-embroidering the towels. In Russian we use the letter K for your C. Ks are fine for me.” 

Guntram frowned at the brisk tone but directed all his attention to his window seat. He didn't want to fight with Constantin as he had seemed to accept the change without much of a fuss. He briefly wondered why but let it go. 

The noise of the engines along with having Kurt frantically pulling from his sleeve forced him out of his second reverie. The child showed him the robot he had put together and quickly Constantin praised it. Kurt, happy to finally get some real attention from someone who could understand him, just like his papa Konrad, went to sit on Constantin's knees and began to tell him in English about his lobster and the train model left behind in Zurich. 

Two hours passed by with Guntram rendered motionless so tired as he was. He barely registered what was going on but  preferred it that way.  The casual way his former captors had greeted him and how Dima had introduced him to his daughter gave Guntram a sense of disconnection with reality. To the Chechens, he had been an outsider invited at their “boss” house for a few years. The idea that they had been his captors and torturers never crossed their minds. He was nothing more than the “boy the boss fancies”. Everything was surreal in a dark way. 

Lunch was served and Kurt went again to sit next to the girl, truly happy to have her around. Dima sat next to Guntram and proudly told him that one day, she would be a good mother. “She's good with kids. I'm going to get her a good husband soon and if he's no good, she'll turn up a widow and will choose a new one all by herself.” 

One single gesture from Constantin was all what Dima needed to make himself scarce. “We all have different views on parenthood, Guntram,” Constantin said with a shrug to the shocked young man and continued to read something in his tablet. 

Time flew by and Kurt came back a few times more but Guntram didn't pay much attention to him. Fed up with his father's aloof attitude, Kurt went away and snoozed on one of the seats. 

“So, how was your life?” Constantin asked feigning disinterest but mentally preparing himself for the tirade to come. 'Better now than at home.' 

Guntram didn't answer instantly. Instead his eyes got lost in the clouds, thinking or perhaps meditating on his words. 

“Silent treatment never worked with me.” Constantin couldn't refrain his impatience any more after the long twenty minutes silence. 

“Quite a mess after I admitted to myself that I loved you just as much as I love Konrad.” Guntram shrugged. “It's quite hard to face that you're in love and need a piece of shit like you in your life.” 

Constantin could only gape at Guntram and the insult went forgotten as he had never expected Guntram to be so openly honest with him. 

“I won't deny that the first year trying to forget you was hellish for me. I was even visiting a psychiatrist but he wasn't helping me much. I got married and things became a bit better but you were always on my mind. Each brushstroke I painted was done thinking about you. 'What would Constantin say?' That was the only thing I cared about. My works were quite a piece of shit during that time because I wanted to forget you. Most of the time I was telling myself what a waste of human being you are but it didn't help me. I thought about all the people who died because of you but you were still on my mind. I did my best to be a good husband to Konrad but you were always there, right there, in the back of my mind. Each line I drew had your memory stabbing me.” Guntram took a deep breath in and looked at Constantin in the eye. 

“Do you know why I refused to have my paintings returned from Russia? It wasn't PTSD like that shrink said. It was because I didn't want to admit to myself that I needed you in order to be creative. It's like you said; friends push themselves to the limit to be better and we did that for each other. How crazy can that be?” Guntram smirked and again watched the clouds. 

“Once I accepted it, things became better for me. I could return to paint and I felt alive once more. Then came the storm of shit that fell upon us and finally I was in the hospital but I guess you know the story from there.” 

“I still don't know why you're here. Wouldn't have been simpler to shoot me in the head and take Kurt with you?” 

“No,” Constantin said with a raspy voice. “Too much of a mess to clean,” he said with a firmer voice as he found comfort in the aggressive phrase that helped him to restore his shaken confidence. “I always knew it and that's why I always return to you. It isn't because I'm obsessed with you as you want to believe. I stay around because I'm sure I stand a chance with you.” 

“This ménage á trois will never work because both of you will be planning how to do away with each other.” Guntram sighed. 

“You can't put two lions in the same cage, Guntram. Or give them a visiting schedule. It doesn't work.” 

“One lion or the other. I know that.” Guntram agreed quietly. “I really understood you much better during and after my interlude as Hochmeister. There aren't many ways to deal with a pack of hyenas.”

“Certainly not,” Constantin smirked wolfishly. “I'm glad for your newly found enlightenment.”  

“I understood that I didn’t differ much from you. This experience took me down from my pedestal.” 

“Despite what you always believed, I'm more honest than you are, Guntram. You play your cards and then, complain if you didn't get four aces.” 

“While we all know what you are.” Guntram replied dryly. 

“My reputation precedes me.” Constantin shrugged nonchalantly.  “I'm not one of those professionally offended people. I do what I have to do and never complain about the consequences. You always knew what I was and what was on my hand.” 

“And your game. That's true.” 

“Now you sit in front of me and turn the tables again with this love declaration. Interesting.” Constantin seemed to lose interest on Guntram and once again became distracted with what was written on his tablet screen. 

Guntram frowned as he would have never expected that reaction from Constantin. 'In the old times, he would have thrown himself at my feet for such a declaration.'

'In the old times.' 

“You have nothing to say?” Guntram couldn't help to ask. 

“Ah yes,” Constantin put the tablet aside. “How's Lintorff?” 

“Are you asking me about Konrad?” Guntram was thunderstruck. 

“I always thought that the Italian Lintorff was an idiot and if he passes away, it won't be a real loss to the world.” 

“Konrad seems to be fine,” Guntram mumbled. “He's already taking people down and cuddling with Putin.” 

“With Vladimir Vladimirovich?” Constantin snorted. “I always knew he loved crazy challenges but he's wasting his time. He has a nice girl already. A gymnast, if I remember correctly. Don't be so jealous, Guntram.” 

“Don't play the idiot with me Constantin. You already know that he murdered my father and about his interests in Russia.” 

“Keeping ourselves civil won't kill us, Guntram. Will it?” 

“What's the matter with you?” 

“You spent a few days with the mighty Komturen and became so vulgar? Their stench must be more sticky than I thought.” Guntram glared at him and Constantin laughed back. “What? Lost your sense of humor too?” 

“There's nothing funny at all about this situation. My father's dead.” 

“Since a year,” Constantin rebuked Guntram's anger. “You had some time to do your mourning.” 

“I knew nothing until a week ago!” Guntram seethed and Constantin sighed with sheer annoyance. 

“You were always a bit slow. Weren't you? What was this time? Daddy tried to take over the Order? Or did he sell our good Hochmeister? Some people never learn.” 

“The first thing. About the second, maybe I'm looking at the responsible person right now,” Guntram answered coldly. “My father only took advantage of the mess you created, Constantin.” 

“An eye for an eye, Guntram. I had to sleep in a prison in Smolensk thanks to somebody giving the authorities the wrong papers about me.” 

“You didn't even last a week inside it.” 

“Better connections and back up plans. Although I must confess that Konrad's level of willingness to cuddle with Putin was bigger than I estimated when he rat me out. Mea maxima culpa.”

“So you're even now.” Guntram seethed. 'It's never about me. It's always all about them.'

“It doesn't work like that and you know it.” 

“I can't believe how childish you two are. When will you take turns to pee on me?” 

“I'm not into such kinks and frankly, I find it rather disgusting. Has Lintorff developed such a taste?”  

“No! Why are you like this to me? Three years ago you would have given me the world just to hear me saying that I loved you.” 

“Yes, four years ago to be precise. People change and I wasn't lying when I said I was through with you. In the end, I was sick of you. I never ran after you after Oblomov decided to play the hero. I moved to France and lived my life. I was even considering to send Lintorff a wedding present when he married you. You have no idea how liberated I felt when I read it on the news. I wasn't any more responsible for you. But then, you had to screw it up by coming here in your mad run.”

“For someone who hates my guts, you certainly can keep good track of them.” 

“Well, after Lintorff summoned a crow to give you the final blessings, I started to be concerned about my child's well being and I wasn't wrong. Was I? My people just followed him and became a bit concerned when you started to ride taxis, take trains to Geneva and sleeping with Emirati commercial representatives. I had to set everything in motion with less than 48 hours. Be glad that I'm a man who loves to sit and brood plans and had things more or less organized in advance. Waking up an old customer at 4 a.m. to offer a new product isn't that easy, you know? The only good thing is that I'm still popular with Arabs and like to make business here. Was I wrong to assume that you were in trouble with darling Konrad?” 

“No, you weren't.” 

“I'm glad that you finally accepted things the way they are. Perhaps that will help your recovery. I always thought that all the drama we had to endure was because you didn't want to admit to yourself that you were happy with me and Conor. You were so determined to cling to your past that you despised your present.” Constantin cleared his throat. “You? Worried about a few second rate mobsters when you used to dine at the same table as Pavicevic? After hearing what I've heard about your methods as Hochmeister, I highly doubt that you were terrified by those countryside losers, just as you were telling all the time. If you were so afraid, why did you have to enter into those trades with that people? And lest do not forget those two devils you killed with one shot to the head. Up to Dima was impressed by your performance and cold head. Things would be much better in the world if you just stop making a drama out of the smallest things.”

“Small things? You call a “small thing” to kidnapping and murder?” 

“I see you well and in one piece and if you refer by that to what happened in Buenos Aires, let me tell you those bodyguards' fate was a small retaliation for something that happened in Chechnya. Nothing to do with your operation. Ask Dima why his people lost their tempers there. That Swede wasn't a saint.” 

“I'd rather not,” Guntram mumbled. 

“Guntram, you know that there's more than what you see on the surface.” 

“Everything here looks more like the Marianne Trench.” Guntram mumbled and Constantin burst into laughter, leaving the young man completely astonished. 

“I'm glad to see that spending so much time among candles and incense hasn't killed your sense of humor.” Constantin chortled and Guntram gave him a dirty look in return. “Please, don't tell me you don't think like me. If I know you a little, you hate all that. If anybody is meant to blow up the Vatican, that person will be you and not the terrorists.”

Guntram opened his mouth to protest but quickly closed it. “I'd get the artworks out first,” he acknowledged miserably. 

“Exactly my thoughts. Santa Marta then?” 

“It's a possible possibility.” Guntram smirked. “You really know me well.” 

“Just as you do. We've been through a lot together.”

“Indeed,” Guntram replied automatically and smirked when he realized what he had said. “Lord, I start to sound like Konrad.” 

“Is that a bad or a good thing?” 

“Depends on who's wearing the crown. As I'm out, it's a bad thing. This time Konrad broke all rules and crossed all lines.”

“Why do you say that? You used to believe he had forced your father's suicide. I remember that. This time, he only finished a business pending since 1989.” 

“You almost sound like him now,” Guntram sighed tiredly. “But you're right. That was an unfinished business for the Order. It always was. Konrad only gave him a second chance and he blew it up. It was something coming all along. Like a meteorite following its path.” 

“Why the mad-run then? He was killed but you were spared and nursed back to health if I see correctly.” 

“I even got the Last Rites at the hospital,” Guntram smiled nervously. “I started to get better after that and an icon the big Russian sent me as a peace offering. I guess that was his way to say he had made his peace with me after my father was eliminated. Quite a...” 

“How can you be sure that he knew about that?” 

“KGB? Please Constantin. You always know everything and you're allegedly retired. Of course he knew and probably forced Konrad to act upon it. Nobody likes to be robbed of a billionaire business.” 

“People love to talk to me. What can I say? I'm like a confessor and can fulfill your wish list pretty quickly. But yes to your question. I'm sure he knew and wanted his yard clean above anything else. It's our way.” Constantin opened a bottle of water and poured some in Guntram's glass before serving himself. “You still haven't answered my question.” 

“I don't know.” Constantin frowned at Guntram's answer. “All right. I thought I was next and I didn't want my child living in the middle of this shit. Also, would you bed the guy who kills your family?” 

“Only to slice his throat while he sleeps, but that's not your style. You could have done it to me but it never happened. Not even a kick when we were sharing the bed.”

“You never stole the covers, that's why.” 

“Nothing else?” Constantin arched one of his eyebrows. 

“All right. Even at our darkest times, I couldn't kill you. I only wanted to escape but I would have never harmed you.” 

“Why is that?” Constantin pressed. 

“I already humiliated myself quite enough for one day.” Guntram replied dryly. “I said I love you and you started to read your bloody iPad. It's clear that whichever feelings you might have had for me in the past are quite dead and you can forget that I start a seduction campaign with you. The prize is not so worth it.”   

“It's quite clear that diplomacy and tact were never your thing, Guntram.” Constantin answered upset with the outcome of the talk. “You have changed.” 

“Two months in the Godfather's shoes make that to people.” 

“Welcome to the club.” 

Both men fell into an amiable and complicit silence. Guntram became once more absorbed in his thoughts while Constantin studied him intensively. 

'He's certainly pale and sick. Just as Sverdloff said he would. “Five to ten years more under the circumstances. Then, a transplant will be unavoidable,” remembered Constantin. 'Clever doctor. A pity we can't use him any more. He really looks worse for wear.'

'Yet there's a light, an intensity in his eyes I've never seen before. Maybe he has finally embraced all his fears and insecurities and that would be great. For the first time since we've known each other he speaks to me without fear or reserves.' 

'He burned down all his bridges.'

'I wouldn't like to be in Lintorff's shoes if he ever decides to go against him. He's cunning and believes he's blessed by God; the worst kind of enemy.' 

“What about your own little army?” Constantin asked casually. 

“Silly me I didn't realize you already knew,” smirked Guntram. “No, I don't want a full scale mobster war in Europe. We don't need it. We'll have enough with the new competitors and when the time comes, war will certainly erupt. I gave my people what they wanted and I hope that it gives them the courage they will need to face what may come.” 

“Spoken like a true statesman.” 

“Spoken like a coward who can't see more blood spilled. Would you have waged war, Constantin?”

“Depends on the price, Guntram.” Constantin seemed to hesitate before he would speak again. “In this case, no. Your forces are quite balanced and it's hard to predict a winner. You would have only caused an unnecessary commotion. It would have been a mere childish, vindictive tantrum. And you would have never got to the core of what you wanted to destroy. Only caused some collateral damage.” 

“That's what I thought,” Guntram sighed, feeling a bit upset that Constantin's line of thought was identical to his own. “You shouldn't worry that an army of crusaders knocks on your door looking for me. I didn't said where I was going. I also don't want my son to be in the middle of this madness. They have enough at the time with their own troubles with Goran.” 

“Speaking of which, I would like to know to where are we flying.” 

“Auckland but then, we have to take the helicopter.” 

“New Zealand? That's the end of the world.” 

“I thought you said Siberia was the bottom of the world.” 

“Khanty Mansyisk was in the middle of nowhere but New Zealand is even far away from Australia.” 

“Don't be so provincial. It's a lovely place; not too cold, not too hot. Or do you prefer Argentina? I don't want to be in Europe or America at the time. Things can turn ugly at any moment. Cheer up, the place is full of kiwis. You'll like them.” 

“Don't be racist.” Guntram said upset. “Not in front of the child.” 

“All right, black ball of feathers sounds right for you?” Constantin huffed and Guntram looked at him clueless. 

“Since you left me, I've been cursed with some kind of witchcraft. There are birds everywhere I go. In Uruguay, my house was invaded by ñandúes and chajaés. Here, my dream island includes a protected area for kiwis. I must say that they're much nicer than all the other previous things squeaking around me but I'm still surrounded by funny looking birds. This is not how I imagined my retirement. On top, I have to suffer the idiotic environmentalists who clean after the birds running free in that part of my lands. Can't do a thing about it.” 

“Really?” was all what Guntram could say so busy as he was processing all the information. 

“Those green idiots are convinced that their life purpose is to protect a genetic bloodline only present in my island. The birds look exactly as any other chicken but these people are desperate to set a sex shop for them. The only thing they're going to get is more and more barn-cousins, genetically speaking. They should pack the birds and move them to the continent. My guess is that somebody brought them for the tourists back in the fifties and now, I’m their caterer. That's why the land was so cheap. I was expecting a full renovation -that's another of the curses I have to live with, construction workers anywhere and no, that's not hot despite what some people may believe- but no. The birds give me enough trouble.” 

“I'm surprised you didn't try a final solution.” 

“I have nothing against black wingless chickens. The hippies are the problem but I have contained them to one area, away from me. Dima told them something like being haram to be in the same space than his people's wives and that was a blessing. I'm glad that those idiots are some brainless liberals and so happy to respect his culture. I'm sure Dima  made that up but he will never tell.”

“Where is that?” 

“Cavalli Islands. I bought one of the islands. I've seen bottlenose dolphins and whales around it. Before there was a hotel complex but they went broke. It's a small island, only 24 hectares and some 60 guest houses. We are not using them all, and I will put down half of them to let nature grow. I don't need so many and I believe you wouldn't like a monster of a house. The ones I keep and restore are for the families of Dima's people. They were happy to move there. I need someone to shoot at the birdwatchers as if seabirds weren't trouble enough.” 

“You haven't changed a bit.” Guntram smiled. “But I never imagined you with a Hawaiian shirt.” 

“Shoot me when you see me wearing one.”

“I will.” 

* * *

June 16^th, 2015

Auckland 

The lights of the skyline seemed to flicker with a life of its own. For the first time in his life, Guntram had set a foot in Auckland and he didn't care. Perhaps the mix of tiredness and worry that clung to his soul or maybe the doubts that were corroding his soul were responsible for his restlessness. 

The bay at the feet of the crystal tower where Constantin had a penthouse, rendered Guntram homesick. The images of the Lake Geneva from Altair's house blended with the sea below him. The coldness of the glass against his forehead couldn't soothe him as his mind relentlessly bombarded him with questions. 

Guntram had never expected that Constantin would drive him from the airport to this penthouse, asked him to dine with him and then, just leave him alone in his room. 

'Altair wouldn't have betrayed me.' 

'I couldn't have been so wrong. I never sensed a lie in him.' 

'I married Konrad and he told me that my father left me.' 

He looked down at his mobile phone and wondered if he should. Constantin had not taken it away from him nor his papers or memory cards. The Russian had shown no interest in Guntram's affairs. “Just don't phone Lintorff or any of his cronies. We want to catch some sleep tonight.”

Guntram dialed the last number and took a deep breath in. “Altair,” he said before he could answer the phone. 

“Where are you?” the anxious voice came from the other side. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I'm alright.” 'Funny, he didn't shout at me.' Guntram cleared his throat. “Something came up,” he lied without much conviction and felt like a schoolboy caught without his homework ready.  

“Where are you? You took the plane and it landed but you disappeared without passing the controls. Are you here?” 

“No, I'm in another country,” Guntram said. “It's hard to explain.” 

“Why? Is your husband causing you trouble?” 

“No, he doesn't know where I am,” Guntram replied. “I... couldn't walk through those doors. I'm sorry but something came up and I had to leave.” 

“Guntram you make no sense at all. Are you alright really? You sound strange and I'm at loss with you. Don't you love me?” 

“I don't know.” Guntram said earnestly. “You don't know who I am. If you would, you'd love someone else.” 

“I simply don't understand you. Was it a lie? Did I do something wrong? Did I insult you? How can I know you if you're the one slamming the door at my face? Are you truly alright or is this another lie?” 

The barrage of questions gave Guntram a huge feeling of guilty. “No, I wasn't lying when I said I loved you.” 

“Now all this looks like what you say after a good romp.” 

“No, it isn't. I don't do that. It's that...” Guntram sighed loudly. “Maybe you're not for me. There are thousands of men in the world, Altair.” 

“I only want you.” 

The firmness in the voice took Guntram aback. His own voice died out and he frantically looked for an answer in his brain. 

“Are you still there?” Altair asked. 

“I'm in Auckland.” 

“What?” the normally well spoken man croaked. 

“I'm with an old friend whom I met at the airport.” Guntram hated himself for the lie but it was for the best. Konrad already hated Altair; he didn't need to have problems with Constantin too. “I've known him for many years.”

“Who's he? What was he doing here?” 

“Some deliveries for the Saudis,” Guntram replied tiredly. “I don't know anything more. He was waiting for me and he took Kurt with him. He was so happy to see him and still remembered him after all these years. I don't know how it's possible, but he did. Kurt was always happy to see his father.” 

“Is your friend the father of your child? I was sure he was yours.” Altair stuttered. 

“Not biologically but he was the one who... paid for the procedure. I didn't know he was coming until he was born. We've have known each other since fifteen years. I guess he was in love with me and I was with Konrad who, by the way, was one of his business associates and then after I moved in with him, they became enemies. He liked me for my art and I was keen on him but never did anything with him till once in Paris. I thought I hated him for all what he did to me and my friends but the truth is that I need him in my life.”

“You need him in your life?” Altair repeated the words, heartbroken, unable to believe them. “You said you loved me.”  

“I do but this is nonsense. I'm no angel. You know nothing about me and you have landed in so much shit that you don't even start to imagine it. Go away while you can, Altair.” 

“You don't make any sense, Guntram.” Altair protested.

“It doesn't make any sense,” Guntram sighed. “Let's be realistic, Altair. I'm dying and my son needs a place to stay. I won't leave him with Konrad and I won't name someone to look after him. This man, François was always good to the baby. I followed him just because of that. He always kept his shit away from his home.” 

“Are you planning to leave your child with a... friend? Are you out of your senses?”  

“I can't leave my son with Konrad and François won't give up  his child. I can't leave my baby behind. I'm sorry, Altair but it can't be. We can’t be together. I had to make a choice and I can't go back on it now.” 

“How will I know that you are alright? We can't end it like this.” 

“I don't want to end it but I don't see how we can continue. I'm sorry.” Guntram ended the call before he would break down in tears. 

A single knock on his door made him quickly put the phone back in his pocket. 

“Just wanted to know if you feel strong enough as to take Conor, I mean, Kurt, shopping for clothes and things he might need tomorrow. He won't live on memory cards and papers.” Constantin asked coldly and immediately suspected something awry going on when he saw Guntram's red rimmed eyes. “Please, don't tell me we start another drama because Lintorff was being Lintorff,” he sighed tiredly. 

“No, it isn't that.” Guntram sobbed and Constantin rolled his eyes. 

“Well, it looks like that,” he huffed and sat on one of the chairs. “Guntram, I really can't take it any more. You'd drive a saint mad and I'm no saint. Control yourself, take a pill or do whatever you need to do but get your act together. It's not good for Kurt.” 

“It has nothing to do with Konrad,” Guntram seethed irked by Constantin's patronizing tone. “You two are not the centre of the world.” 

“So what is it this time? I trust you didn’t phone good old Konrad. I really want to sleep tonight and not grease the weapons.” 

“I didn't!” Guntram yelled and Constantin rose an eyebrow at the outburst. “I don't believe what you say about Altair. He isn't a spy.” 

“Maybe not but assuming that he's one is the logical thing to do,” Constantin shrugged. 

“Anyway, an Islamic country is not the place for any of my children for many reasons I'm too tired to explain right now.” Constantin seemed to study Guntram for a minute and then chuckled. “Oh, you were in bed with the Arab.” 

“That's none of your business!” 

“Did you tell good old Konrad? No, better: Can I tell him?” chuckled Constantin. “It's very funny to do it with someone from there. All that pent-up repression makes them quite creative in bed. Also that gender separation thing teaches them many things from a tender age.”

“So you have experience in that field too. And love to gossip too. Be my guest; call good old Konrad. It will be very satisfying for you.” 

Guntram's contained fury made Constantin laugh openly. “I'm glad you were trying the Middle-East cuisine,” he smirked. “Was it good?” 

“Better than the Russian,” Guntram couldn't help himself to bark. 

“Well, it must be something quite impressive then, considering the way you were coming unto me.” 

Guntram became red faced. “It wasn't real,” he mumbled. 

“Women can fake orgasms. For men it's a bit more difficult, but that's my humble opinion. Biology has nothing to do with it.” 

“Are you not even jealous?” 

“Why should I? I don't suffer from an obsessive-compulsive disorder like Lintorff does. Men fuck and like to do it. It's in our genes.” 

“Just like you and that blond you had in the city.” Guntram rebuked. “Very well done, Constantin.” 

“Mischa? That? It was nothing. More or less what you were doing with those guards but with much better taste. Honestly Guntram, I didn't punish you because considering with whom you were doing it, it was very clear that you weren't quite right in your senses.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Six hours ago you said you couldn't live without me,” Constantin sighed falsely. “Drama queen doesn't quite cover what you are, Guntram.” 

“You're not human at all.” 

“And you're not the fairy tale prince you pretend to be.” Constantin replied evenly. “The moment you admit it to yourself, everybody's lives around you will be so much better.” 

“I love Altair.” Guntram stated calmly, without showing any expressions in his face. “Maybe I should go to him.” 

“Excellent, one less mouth to feed,” Constantin smirked. “Kurt stays here. I'm not giving him up twice. I'll tell Dima to get you a plane ticket in the morning.” 

Guntram opened his mouth to shout at Constantin but he repressed himself because that was exactly was Constantin was expecting him to do. “Why are you like this?” he said tiredly. “You hate me yet you want me to stay because you know I won't leave Kurt.” 

“I don't hate you, Guntram. You should see how I treat the people I hate.” Constantin’s fingers distractedly tapped the armrest and followed the steel line that held the white cushions. “I just don't play your game any more.” 

“I just told you that I love another man and you didn't care,” Guntram said more to himself than to Constantin. 

“I do care but I'm realistic. I don't try to bend reality to my wishes like most people do. I embrace it and see what's the best outcome for me. As I see it now, you came back with an older child who can't speak his own language; you're sicker than before -with one foot on the grave, let's be honest-; have a new boyfriend and a billionaire divorce in your hands. You're not exactly romantic material, Guntram.”

“You forgot the part of a whole order of Christian fanatics after my head.” Guntram added dryly.

“Ah, that thing too. Yes, I'm not going to throw myself at your feet to beg for a glance from you. Those times are over, Guntram. Get over it.”

“So I won't be expecting any chocolates from you.” 

“Maybe you'll get them from a hotel room-service. Or better, you walk down to the store if you want any.” 

“Your metaphor with the chocolates is slightly better than being called heavy luggage. We're improving, Constantin.”

“I wasn't fat-shaming you,” Constantin mocked Guntram and the young man smirked in return. “But you could eat a bit more. You look worse for wear than before.” 

“I'm still losing some blood through the hole in my heart. Got pills for that.” 

“A foreseeable outcome. It was bound to happen.” 

“You knew about it, right?” 

“Sverdloff wasn't very optimistic after the surgery. He said I should let you live happily what time you had left. You have been told you need a transplant, right?” 

Guntram nodded and cast his eyes down. “In a few years or even before. This is just a patch.” 

“You'll have to make an appointment with the local doctors. Sverdloff recommended someone.” 

“Is he still alive?” 

“And kicking in London. Working at a private clinic. Killing that man would be a real waste.” 

“You hate to waste things.” 

“And to destroy beautiful things.” 

“Is that clinic where you got Kurt?” 

“Yes and no. He was born in Russia but the medical team was from there, yes.” Constantin said. “Despite her age, Galina Constantinova is a leading figure in her field.” 

“Constantinova?” Guntram asked with a knot in his throat. 

“I'm her godfather. I knew her mothers many years ago. Before I had the stupid idea of marrying Olga. She only had a mother and in Russia all babies take their patronymic from a man. Her father disowned her when he heard she was pregnant and living with another woman.” 

“I see.” Guntram said quietly but the knot in his throat hurt much more. 

“She's very clever, like her mother. She was an engineer too, but older than me.” Constantin carefully watched Guntram as he spoke. “Any man would be proud of being her father.” 

“I met her in London.” Guntram said mind absently and quickly forgot Constantin's last sentence. He didn't want to pounder on it for any second longer than necessary. “Intelligent but cold as an iceberg. She made me feel like a frog ready for dissection.” 

“It isn't her fault really. Maybe you picked her curiosity. Asperger people tend to do that.” 

“I see.” Guntram still felt unease but didn't want to pose any more questions. The subject drove him very nervous as there was something in her face that reminded him of something he couldn't quite place well. “She didn't like me either,” he added softly.  

“A real pity because she's the right kind of woman for you, if you were inclined to meet one.” 

“What?” Guntram was speechless.

“Intelligent and with zero tolerance for dramas. She would run you with a firm hand and you'd probably consider yourself lucky to have her in your life. You'd be happy to stay at home and look after the children. She, on the other hand, would get a husband who isn’t jealous of her brains and career and has enough intelligence to lead a proper conversation. Your children will also look very well and have a good gene advantage over the general population.” 

“This time you outdid yourself, Constantin.” Guntram seethed. “You called me a girl; an idiot and then you exposed a little racial theory, all in one paragraph. Were you practicing at great lengths your ways of pissing me off? Or is it just spontaneous?” An open confrontation was better than allowing his brain to follow the dots to achieve the full picture about Galina and Constantin. He had nearly buried her face in the deepest corners of his mind and he didn't want to remember it again. 

“It flows naturally.” Constantin smirked, secretly glad that Guntram held his ground with such brio but disappointed that he had once more deliberately chosen to shoo the truth away from him. 

“Anyway, the rule is you can talk to the Arab but keep Lintorff away for your own protection. And no, don't make such a face; you're not kidnapped or forced to be here. The door is right there but I think Pavicevic and his friends will roast you alive when they find out you were holding hands with a Muslim. I'll see you tomorrow.” Constantin rose from his chair and grimaced from the pain in his lower back. “Ferrari isn't what it used to be. Bloody seats.” 

“You're getting old. That's all.” Guntram said softly. 

“Oh, are you starting another of your guerrilla warfare tactics, Guntram? It really doesn't work with me.” 

“I wouldn't dream of that. After all, you probably were the main supplier of many guerrillas.” 

“We're getting ironic. That's indeed an improvement from your former whiny self. Maturity suits you, Guntram. I'll see you tomorrow. I know two children stores and the women there are clever and quick.”

As Guntram frowned at the last sentence, finding odd that the Russian would know anything about children clothes, Constantin quickly bent down and kissed him on the lips. 

Red with fury, Guntram wanted to push Constantin away but he was already a good two meters away from him. The young man opened his mouth to shout at Constantin but he only chuckled. “My, such a deep love you profess to me,” and closed the door behind him.