Chapter 9: The Palace of Rus in Medellin

In the first week of August, we handed over more Inca knotted writing to the University of Trujillo, or rather its museum, where the historic cords are to be studied. The scientists were still struggling to decipher the first few cords, the record of an advanced civilisation more than 500 years old. Two employees gratefully accepted our gift. My proposal to set up a foundation for this research was enthusiastically received, especially as I promised to cover the start-up costs and make a monthly donation. Several students volunteered to design an attractive website and raise support for the project worldwide.

One professor had a special suggestion. The treasures of Inca knowledge should be declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site. There were currently ten World Heritage Sites in Peru, and an eleventh was in the application phase, but only the material goods of the Inca civilisation, the Inca city of Cuzco and the unique Machu Picchu, the sacred Inca city in the clouds, were recognised as cultural treasures. The spiritual treasures had yet to be explored, systematised, and made available to humanity. I promised the professor that I would support this work as far as I could.

We received a comprehensive document from the medical faculty of the university, and that of Olivia’s son Michael had shown a 99.8% match. The document stated that Michael Alekso Alcatra was undoubtedly the biological son of Aleksej Vladimirovich Boguruskij. This document was supported by numerous documents showing the DNA samples as colour graphics, the affidavit of the doctor Dr Ramona Johanna Liebknecht about the careful collection of the samples, and the statements of the witnesses Carmen Mendoza Ubrigo and Luisa Fernando Waskhar, who confirmed that the samples had been taken carefully and without any doubt.

The signatures on the documents were full of the names of professors and doctors. The official death certificate for Rus was also included. There was no better way to prove our Michael’s descent from his late father. We also received a CD-ROM with these documents and other test results in PDF format. I immediately paid the fee of 400 SOL in cash. This was far below my estimate and the usual prices in Europe.

Extremely satisfied, I thanked the faculty management and the rector. At the same time, I assured the Dean of the University that we would never forget this short-term help. If we were to come into possession of any more Inca treasures, they would be given exclusively to the University of Trujillo. Olivia confirmed this with emphatic words in her warm way.

Dr Jamah, an Indian doctor who taught at the university and practised as a psychologist at the nearby hospital, was very interested in us and the people of our valley. He was amazed to hear my information about the health of the old Indios. But he was even more interested in the psychological development of our children and young people in the valley. He knew of no example of how such a small group of people had developed during their years of isolation from the outside world and how this had affected the psyche of the young people. I showed him and his young Indian wife excerpts from the film Priya had made for the first anniversary, and also the film of our celebration of the great victory over our enemies.

He was visibly moved. The doctor was very emotional in his appreciation of the courage, strength, and determination of our girls and young women, but most of all the sparkle in their eyes. Not only was he impressed, but he would have liked to join us. In any case, he wanted to visit our community soon to see for himself. He immediately understood my concerns about the lack of dental and eye care for our residents and promised to help.

Dr Jamah spoke briefly on the phone to a colleague and to the widow of a deceased optician. Then he gave me her address. The equipment was still complete, with all the necessary lens sets and many small machines for grinding, drilling, and polishing. The optician’s widow wanted 40,000 SOL for the complete shop fittings and the necessary equipment, which I thought was a very reasonable offer. The meeting was really worthwhile for us.

Finally, the Indian called a fellow countryman in Mersto, described our situation in flowery terms and got a promise from a dentist to examine our residents and provide long-term care. It was impressive how quickly problems could be solved in this country. You just had to know the right people.

We hired a taxi for the next day. It was easier for us. We didn’t have to worry about traffic or parking. The driver took us to the best notary and lawyer in town, recommended by the museum director. Notary Sanchez was chatting with a client on a shady terrace, but it was more jokes than serious conversation.

His secretary refused to let us see the notary and did not even offer us a seat. Somewhat annoyed, I asked Olivia if the woman could take responsibility for keeping us waiting, as perhaps her boss’ most important future clients. She looked pensive at first, but then hurried off to see her boss. Seconds later, a huge figure stood in front of us and asked us in a deep bass voice what we wanted from him.

Olivia had to interpret my words. “First of all, we would like to get to know you, Mr Sanchez. A coffee, tea, and some water would be welcome.”

He paused, smiled, but immediately had what he wanted delivered to the terrace. He had obviously already understood my English.

We examined each other. I asked how business was going, if there was a lot of buying and selling of property, but also about his education and his contacts with the provincial administration. He wanted to ask questions in return and, despite his imposing appearance, seemed a little insecure.

“Do you know who my companion, the charming young woman here, is?”

He shook his head, but his secretary gave him the code word ‘Mama Olivia’ as she poured the coffee.

“Yes, we were just at your university and handed over twelve more sets of Inca knot writing.”

The notary remembered Olivia’s appearance at the university. He knew the director of the museum well. The notary wanted to support the creation of a foundation for the study of Inca culture and would be happy if I would reimburse his expenses. A handshake sealed the deal. He suggested that we continue the conversation in English.

“We are planning some very important projects. We need the help of a lawyer and a notary. May I tell you about the most important ones?”

Now he was clearly interested.

“First, Mrs Alcatra wants to buy a vacant property and have it renovated so that as many homeless Indio women with small children as possible can be given free shelter. The second is to build a dam to prevent the annual flooding of the valley and the 3N road below San Huano. The inhospitable land between the proposed dam and road 3N will be used as farmland for poor mountain people in the coming years. To this end, we will have the road to San Huano repaired and widened free of charge so that the dam can be built. For this to happen, the provincial government must sell me all the land between my current property and the valley road.”

He looked at my title deed and the map on my tablet with interest as I went on.

“We have roughly planned the construction of the dam at a preliminary cost of 90 million SOL. I need a specialist to draw up the contracts, monitor compliance, and impose sanctions in the event of breaches”.

He could no longer hide his excitement about the upcoming orders, but I also saw concern in his expression.

“So, let me summarise:

1. We are initially interested in a property in the city of Trujillo.

2. We need a very good architectural firm to design several buildings.

3. We will set up an office in Trujillo to coordinate our activities.

4. Chinese specialists will be arriving soon for the dam project.”

“Perhaps you could put us in touch with a completely reliable man who can look after and accompany the Chinese. So far, at least. Any questions?”

“So, you are the mysterious owner of the silver mine on the banks of the Tiso River, represented by that unpleasant fellow from Medellin. Unfortunately, I have to refuse you a mandate, as I will continue to represent the mining company in all matters in the future”.

“What does that mean, ‘also in the future’? The gentlemen have left the country.”

“Don’t you know the annexes to the deed of sale? Mr Boguruskij had promised that the land would be sold back within fifteen years at the latest. If this does not happen, Boguruskij is liable for 60 million dollars. The bank guarantee is in my safe”.

“Oh my God, I didn’t know anything about this. This encumbrance is not recorded in the land register. Apparently, you have to supervise such transactions personally. Thank you for your information. Do you see any solution? I will never sell”.

“Then the mining company would pull the guarantee and they would have made more money than they would have made in years of silver mining.”

“I think that’s the way to go. Money is not the deciding factor. Please give me ten minutes, at least the length of a cigarette, to think about it.”

In the end, we agreed on future cooperation. The company was to agree to call in the guarantee and terminate its relationship with Notario Sanchez as soon as possible. To complete the process, we each wanted one percent of the guaranteed amount, or $600,000.

We agreed that he would prepare the relevant contracts. If everything was to my satisfaction, he would receive documents proving that the guarantee could be drawn.

“One more thing, Mr Sanchez. Can I really rely on you in the future?”

He assured me of his unconditional loyalty.

“I am now going to tell you something about Mr Boguruskij. - But of course you are not allowed to know it officially yet. - Rus is dead.”

The notary looked at me in disbelief.

“Yes, his helicopter was his destiny. That’s why the guarantee has to be called as soon as possible. Otherwise, all the heirs’ accounts will be frozen,” I told him.

“That’s almost illegal, my dear.” He thought for a moment. “But fortunately, I don’t know anything about Boguruskij’s death.”

“So, let’s get to work quickly. If you complete the documents immediately, I am prepared to swear today that I will never sell the valley. I am also sending you two photos of the mine, which completely collapsed in the last earthquake. There is another crucial fact. Access from Ashmanton is no longer possible because the bridge has collapsed. This makes mining almost impossible. Perhaps we can use this to negotiate the deposit down”.

“Why are you interested in this?”

Pointing to Olivia, I added, “There sits the mother of the presumed sole heir of Boguruskij. It would be nice if there was more money for the inheritance.”

But Notary Sanchez seemed to think that was out of the question if they wanted to get things done quickly. I knew it would cost him part of his commission. But money is always a powerful motivator. I assured him that he would receive 5% of the result for negotiating a lower price, so, if the mining company got 20 million less, that would be a full million for him. Suddenly he needed a photograph of the collapsed bridge. I called Ernesto and he sent us several photos of the canyon without the bridge and the remains of the bridge on the riverbank that he had taken in the valley the day after the attack.

My suggestion was to offer the mining company an immediate guaranteed payment of $30 million. I was sure that half the amount now would be better for the company than the full amount in 15 years. After several phone calls and renegotiations, the notary had received the mining company’s agreement to settle for the negotiated $32 million by 3 p.m. Sanchez tabled me three documents to sign, asking Sberbank Kiev to transfer the full amount of the guarantee to the agreed escrow account in Trujillo. The original documents still had to be exchanged by courier, but the agreement seemed secure.

I signed the documents and a few days later I had the sealed contract. The only thing that took a while was the transfer because the bank wanted to contact the account holder, but of course they couldn’t reach him. But the sixty million was with the notary ten days after the contract was signed, as required by the guarantee. The huge sum was then divided as follows 32 million for the mining company, 1.7 million for the notary and the ‘small remainder’ of 26.3 million for me as the owner of the mine. I initially left my share in the notary’s trust account so that I wouldn’t have to pay taxes immediately.

The notary was very pleased. It was certainly more than he had earned in his whole life. But the best thing was that we were very close; if one of us talked, the other one lost. It was a bad thought, I had him in my hands because I had only done a deal. He may have broken the law.

Sanchez recommended a colleague to authenticate our documents. “You don’t want to know what they are, Mr Sanchez. It’s about Boguruskij. That would weigh on your conscience.”

He smiled at me in understanding.

By the evening, we had three notarised copies of the paternity certificate. The notary Moreno had issued us with three apostilles, i.e. internationally recognized documents that could be used to carry out legal transactions or provide certain evidence in another country without any red tape.

While the notary was working for us, the taxi driver took me to our car. Two neighbours from the optician’s helped me load the equipment and wooden crates into my Landcruiser. Olivia explained to the people that we were going to use the equipment to build an eye clinic in the mountains. This would help many poor Indios and destitute children, I asked Olivia to translate.

She asked doubtfully, “Indios?”

“Yes, your grandmother, Enzo, and Valentina definitely need glasses, as do almost all the old people in the village. We will also give the people in the mountain village the opportunity to have their eyes tested”.

Smiling, my dear Peruvian reinforced the good feeling she had with the complete strangers and helpful people.

With the well-organised folder full of documents, we were finally able to apply for the certificate of inheritance for Michael Alcatraz at Aleksej Boguruskij’s official residence in the Colombian city of Medellin. I wanted to do this as quickly as possible.

We left for Medellin on Saturday. Olivia and I flew to Lima first. I had a tricky appointment. Three weeks ago, I had dared to apply for a new South African passport for Ferdinand Grant with my passport photo. The passport with Rus’ photo would have expired at the beginning of 2020. Fortunately, the passport was not yet biometrically secured. I knew full well that this was completely illegal, but it was the only way to somehow get hold of the Rus’ assets in several Asian countries, because the companies had been set up by Rus in the name of Ferdinand Grant. The London account was also in Grant’s name. So, I had to act. Otherwise, the money would have gone to the banks at some point. My actions were completely against the law, but I wanted to keep the many millions for us.

I had left Olivia in the airport restaurant with some money. A taxi took me to Avenue Victor Andres Belaund 147 in just a few minutes. There were several embassies in the huge building. A young woman showed me the way and took me to the elevator. My knees were shaking with excitement as I was greeted by a security guard.

In fact, I was sure that there was nothing out there that could do me any harm. The worst that could happen was that the illegal passport would be confiscated if the fraud was discovered, but the consulate staff couldn’t arrest me. But it was easier than I thought. A huge, dark-skinned man with an English accent called me up to his balustrade. His piercing eyes fixed on me for a moment. Then he showed me the brand-new passport. I confirmed that all the information was correct. I had paid the hefty fee of 499 US dollars when I applied online. But the South African scanned my two index fingers with a special machine. The next passport would have biometrics, but that was ten years away. I certainly didn’t want to apply for a fake passport again.

Completely relieved, I left. Suddenly, I had two identities. I was Michael Berthier of Belgium and Ferdinand Grant of South Africa. It was surreal. I had never committed such a fraud before, but what else could I do? Boguruskij had fooled half the world. So, I paid him back in kind.

Olivia was waiting for me at the entrance to the airport, a little nervous. She was worried about all the strangers. Relieved, she fell into my arms. She had simply left her luggage under the table at the snack bar. Luckily, it was still there and hadn’t triggered a security alarm. Over a beer, I explained to my companion in detail how to behave properly in a new environment. She only knew life in the mountains, sheltered and protected. But Olivia just smiled. She was relieved not to be alone. She didn’t seem to care about anything else.

We stayed at the ‘Miraflor Park’, the most exclusive hotel in Lima as far as I know. The suite on the 10th floor overlooking the ocean had two bedrooms. We were delighted. After a wonderful city tour, a dreamy dinner on a terrace on the 11th floor, and an hour’s swim in the fantastic hotel pool high above the ocean, we couldn’t take our eyes off each other. Olivia wanted even more happiness. She was more relaxed than ever. She tolerated my tender touches wherever I wanted. She was passive for a long time, spreading her body out like a table set for a snack. And I snacked without stopping. Her magnificent breasts in particular, barely scarred from breastfeeding her two sons, begged to be stroked. She arched her back and stretched her torso towards me. I enjoyed her gradual tension, letting my lips and especially my tongue work longer than I had ever done on a breast before. She let out her first sigh as my hand moved to her belly. I regained possession of her mouth and, after a vigorous tongue play, nibbled first on her upper lip. Another sigh as her lower lip was gently worked by my teeth. My fingers became more and more active. I wanted her to be wild as I had experienced so many times before, but she was still passive and pushed my head towards her most intimate place.

Our doctor had worked a miracle. The marks of the severe injuries from her multiple rapes were barely visible or palpable. And it was like magic how Olivia could give herself to me, an older man, after the three evil men had done the worst things to her.

As my tongue began its play, my fingertips caressed her nipples, still wet with my saliva. Her first moan excited me even more. My middle finger penetrated her as I sucked on her clit and my tongue caressed her pussy. Her thighs opened even wider. She showed me how much she enjoyed my caresses, but also that she wanted much more. Soon she was whispering, “Please, I need it. Lie on top of me.”