She laughed and shook her head. “Are you still singing that note?” she asked.

“Why shouldn’t I?” he said. “I’ve met the perfect woman. So I pursue her as I can. What can I do for you while I’m in New York? May I buy you a yacht or just take you away with me on one for six months?”

His flirtation was so outrageous that she refused to even take it seriously. “Don’t you ever give up?”

“Obviously, no. Why should I?”

“My answer will never change.”

“Never say never,” he said. “Life changes.”

“Do you know the old phrase about a snowball’s chance in hell?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered thoughtfully, “and since you like to speak of philosophy and sophisticated notions, it has occurred to me that a snowball might have some small chance in hell.”

“The snowball’s got a hundred times better chance than you do of marrying me,” she said.

“Thank you! Very encouraging.”

“Encouraging?”

“Yes. This is the first time that you’ve acknowledged that I might have some small chance. I’m heartened.”

With an overly dramatic gesture, he took her hand in his, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. These were the same hands that had pulled triggers on unarmed men and beaten several other men and women to within a few inches of their lives. Sometimes she wondered how she had the gumption to play along.

Federov finished his drink.

“A lot of women would marry me in a heartbeat,” he said.

“I’m not a lot of women,” Alex answered.

“No, but you’re the woman who charms me and excites me. Why don’t you think about it?”

“Sure. And in the meantime, why don’t we change the subject?”

“To what?”

“Why are you in New York?” she asked.

“Is that what you’re here to discover?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. It is. My superiors at the US Department of Treasury sent me here to find out.”

“Ah.”

“So why don’t you tell me and then business will be out of the way.”

“I’m here to see some doctors,” Federov said. “Some specialists. I have a few health issues.”

“Nothing serious, I hope,” she said.

“American doctors are the best in the world, so I put my trust there.”

“I’m sure the medical establishment will be flattered to learn that. Is that the only reason you’re here?”

“If you’re asking me if I’m here to do business,” Federov said, “the answer is no. And why would I lie to you at this point? I’ve made my money; I don’t live in Ukraine or Russia anymore, so I tell you again: I take my winning chips, and I walk away from the table. Is that so hard to understand?”

“Maybe,” she said.

“And I have some friends here,” he announced easily. “So I socialize, have dinner and drinks, and mind my own business.”

“How long are you here for?” she asked.

“Don’t play coy with me, Alex LaDucova,” he laughed, finishing his drink and signaling to the waiter that he could use another. “I’m sure the record of my air travel has already been given to you. I’m here for ten days. And you knew that.”

She smiled. “I didn’t say I didn’t know that.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“To see if you’d tell me the truth.”

Federov raised his thick hand expressively. “Again, why would I not tell the truth at this point? You have all the power here, not me.”

The waiter presented Federov with his second drink, also a double. Alex was working slowly on the first half of hers.

“These ‘Peacock’ drinks,” Federov said. “They’re like a woman’s breast. One is not enough and three would be too much.”

“You said you had three yesterday.”

“Yes, I’m a pervert and it was too much. Tonight I am a gentleman because I am with a lady.”

“Tell me about your friend.”

“Ah, this friend I am seeing this evening,” Federov said next. “I’m glad you can come along. This is, ah, ‘good fortune’-you’re well educated; what is the ten-dollar word?”

“ ‘Fortuitous’?”

“Yes.”

“Is there an ulterior motive?”

“There might be,” he said.

“Why don’t you tell me then, or is it one of those things I have to figure out?”

“No,” he said. “His name is Paul Guarneri. He is a former business associate of mine in New York. We’re going to meet him at 7:00 p.m. in Little Italy.”

“What sort of business?” Alex asked, suddenly suspicious.

“You can ask him that yourself. I’ll tell you right now that Paul is from a ‘connected family’ in New York, but his businesses now are entirely legitimate. Like many people in his position, he has friends on both sides of the law.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“I mentioned you to him. He’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“I don’t date wise guys, Yuri. You know that.”

“His interest is elsewhere,” he said. “Come along. You won’t regret, hey.”

She processed a lot of information quickly. Then she decided she would go along with it and file a complete report as soon as she returned to Washington. If Guarneri was connected, could an association of this sort hurt her? As an investigator, little tidbits that she picked up at such meetings could sometimes prove of immense value.

“Okay. That’s fine,” she said. “I look forward to meeting your gangster pal.”

He laughed again. She sipped more of her drink. The Peacock started to resemble rocket fuel, and she was on the runway. Then she realized he was looking at her very contemplatively, as if there were something else he wished to bring up.

“What?” she asked.

He reached directly to her. She held her position, not knowing where his hand was going. It went under her chin to the neckline of her blouse; she allowed it. He fingered the pendant that she wore, the one fashioned by a child for her in Venezuela. He looked at it thoughtfully.

“You still wear this,” he noted.

“I do.”

“You used to wear a little gold cross. I had almost forgotten. That’s what you had when we first met.”

She opened her mouth to remind him what had happened, but he continued the line of thought for her.

“But you lost that little cross in Kiev,” he said. “The same day you lost the man you were in love with.”

“That’s correct,” she said.

“Life is strange,” he said.

“It can be. Cruel too.”

He gently pulled his hand away. In doing so, he eased away from the subject. “I’ve done many rotten things in my life, hurt people I should not have, things I regret,” he said. “Kiev. Moscow. New York.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I think I should clear my ledger, like I did with the tax people. What does your religion say about that?”

“About what?”

“Forgiveness. Asking for it.”

“From another person or from God?”

“Suppose it would be from you.”

“If you did something heinous, and I know you have done many such things, I’d be more worried about God than me,” she said.

“What if I cared more about you than God?”

“Then I’d say you had your priorities wrong,” she said. “Where are you going with this?”

He shrugged, retreating from the subject. “I’m just asking,” he said. There was a grave expression on his face, as if his mind had jumped to a place that was very painful.

He glanced at his watch. “Let’s get a taxi,” he said. “We’re going way downtown. Traffic can be terrible.”

“I’m ready when you are,” Alex said.

Federov found another fifty-dollar bill. He signaled to the waiter that they were leaving and left the fifty on the table. Alex had the impression that the waiter would be sorry to see Federov check out. They finished their drinks. When she stood, she was mildly buzzed. Crossing the lobby, Federov took her hand to guide her to the front entrance on Park Avenue. She made no motion to object, even when he gave it an extra squeeze.