“New York,” she said. “That’s where my job is now.”

“Ah, New York. It was a long trip.”

“As it worked out, it wasn’t that difficult,” she said.

“You’re very kind,” he said. “I find that quaint. And ironic maybe. You’re one of the few people I’ve met in my life who I’ve had to thank for their kindness.”

“Maybe if you had thanked more people your life would have turned out differently,” she said.

“And maybe if kindness had been shown to me more often I would have turned out a different person,” he mused. With a free hand, he used a paper towel to mop his brow. “But we’ll never know, will we? Two theories maybe, hey? One is I was born a mongoose. So I would always be a mongoose. And you can’t blame a mongoose for killing a cobra, because a mongoose is a mongoose.”

She was aware that he was heavily sedated, sailing along on some synthetic morphine, she supposed, which probably had his central nervous system in chaos. The drugs made him ramble, but she found it not difficult to travel along with it.

“The other, of course, is that events made me what I am,” he said. “My father used to beat me without mercy when I was a boy, hey. So did my uncle. You know when it stopped? When I was big enough to hurt them back. Hurt. That’s the only real law in life, isn’t it? Don’t hurt me or I will hurt you. Nations, people. It all works the same.”

In another time and place, she might have taken exception. She might have found the right words to say about love and the search for it, about God, about the spirit, about human kindness instead of violence, and a system of morals based on one’s faith, or any faith, or respect for other people or the sanctity of truth and life. But that was not a discussion for here and now.

“Are we on fire?” he asked next.

“What?”

“It’s very hot,” he said. “I wonder if the building is on fire.”

“The building is fine, Yuri,” she said, realizing that the sedatives were gaining some ground. “But I can call a nurse if you’re feeling-”

“No, no!” he said, raising a clumsy hand and halting her. “Enough of nurses and enough of doctors.” She sat still and his hand went to the sheets again. He closed his eyes, and Alex wasn’t sure whether he was about to drift off. But the nano-nap helped because the eyes opened again in a flash. He seemed to have regained some lucidity.

“Hey,” he said. “Time is short. We have things to talk about.”

“Go ahead,” she said.

He motioned to the second drawer of the bedside stand. “There’s a small package in there,” he said. “Would you please take it out?”

She reached to the drawer. There was a small blue bag in it. It bore the name of Tiffany & Company, the jeweler. She frowned slightly, not knowing where this was going.

Federov nodded. She closed the drawer and opened the bag. She reached in.

“I bought this in New York,” he said as she turned over in her hand a small blue box tied with white ribbon. “It’s for you.”

“Yuri, you didn’t have to buy me a present,” she said. “And you shouldn’t have.”

“It’s something very special,” he said, watching intently now. “Please open it.”

She thought for a moment, but was in no position to decline a kindness. She pulled the ribbon open and set it aside. She opened the box and glanced up at him as she dug through the tissue paper. His eyes were suddenly very happy and almost very young, like a boy on Christmas morning.

Her hand settled then on a smaller box within the larger one. It was in dark blue velvet and was unmistakably a ring box. With reservations, she pulled it from the paper and paused for a moment.

“Yuri?” she questioned.

“Please…,” he said, “see this day through to the end.”

“As you wish,” she said gently.

She opened the box and almost lost her breath. The box contained a diamond engagement ring. It was exquisite and dazzling, a sturdy, bold, brilliant diamond set in a platinum gold band. The center stone was the largest diamond she had ever held in her hands. She was no expert, but she guessed it was eight karats set in a traditional clasp, surrounded by two rows of smaller melee diamonds, alternating with sapphires.

He smiled.

“Blue,” he said. “When you came to see me in Geneva last time, you said you liked blue.”

Yes, blue. She now recalled and better understood his question from several weeks earlier.

Blue, like the Nile. Blue like the sky. Blue like sapphires on the most stunning engagement ring she had ever seen in her life.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “I didn’t know there was a woman in your life again. Who is this for?”

Her eyes rose to meet his and her mouth opened to speak, but his words preceded any she could utter.

“It’s for you, Alex. Will you marry me?” he asked.

“What?”

“I’m asking you to marry me,” he said. “It is a serious proposal.”

Almost gasping, almost angry, thoroughly flummoxed, she struggled to answer. “Yuri… I…”

“Please say yes,” he said. He moved a hand to her and settled it on her knee. He touched her with obvious affection. He was too sick for lechery and time was too short for games.

She looked back down to the ring.

It was jewelry more befitting a movie star or a member of European royalty, not a working woman from southern California who had gone through college on scholarships and now worked in law enforcement. Again, she was no expert, but in the past she had had enough experience on a professional basis with jewelry to know that this piece probably clocked in at seventy-five to a hundred thousand dollars.

She sat before him nonplussed. The reality of the moment was sinking in upon her, the realization that he was not kidding and the offer was indeed serious.

“If you say yes,” he added with surprising gentleness, “it would be the most joyous moment of my life.”

“Yuri, I don’t know what to say.”

“Then say yes. I will call a priest whom I know here in Geneva. And we will do fast paperwork and make it official. We could do it here in the hospital as early as tomorrow. I have paperwork that has been prepared. All you would have to do is sign and-”

“My reaction isn’t so much yes or no,” she stammered, “as it is that such a proposal is completely out of the question.”

“Why?”

“For more reasons than I could explain.”

“Give me one reason,” he said.

The words came out almost reflexively. “I’m not in love with you,” she said.

He snorted a little laugh. “At this point,” he said, “what does that matter, hey?”

She groped for more words, more of an explanation, but instead was more at a loss for them than any previous time in her life. “I couldn’t possibly marry you,” she finally expanded.

She abruptly closed the ring box and set it back on the side table.

Federov was, however, neither hurt nor perturbed.

“Be realistic,” he continued. “This is my gift to you. If I am in love with you, what does it matter whether you love me? What would-?”

“Yuri, please. Stop this or I’ll leave.”

“How much time do I have left on this earth?” he pressed. “No one knows. You believe in God? Well, your God is in the process of taking me. So you give me a small gift before I die, and I will give you tremendous gifts that will last your lifetime.”

He paused and moved a hand to the ring box. He fingered it but didn’t open it.

“Let’s be honest,” he continued. “I am a very wealthy man. See that drawer? “ he asked, indicating the same drawer that had held the Tiffany bag. “All my financial information is in there. Bank accounts. Some in Ukraine, some in New York. Most of them safe here in Switzerland. You will also see letters I have on file with lawyers here in Geneva. You would have access to everything I own if you were my wife. I have a will. I have already named you as a beneficiary.”

“I don’t want your money, Yuri,” she said. “When it comes down to it, I can only be honest with you. I am appalled by the way you acquired your wealth. How many people did you betray? How many did you kill?”