Iveta saying, “First, I am a survivor.” She’s smoking now. Takes a moment to look at the cigarette. “Always, I survive. I had this big problem in Riga. Joined NATO army, went to Bosnian conflict. Trouble there too. When I met Yakiv in Odessa, he was a powerful man. Had been in Serbia, like me. Over there, everyone needs protection. Especially women. See what I mean?”

I’m with her. Can’t describe the relief, with the gun out of the picture.

“Not great situation, for women. This sex trade, within Ukraine and across borders. All over the world.” She picks up her coffee, puts it back down. “Yakiv will take me to America, easy for him, he has already this, what is it, network. So I come in with other girls. Easy.”

I’m hearing her. I wonder if she was offended when I took my hand away. But I can’t read this woman.

She says, “Then Yakiv and I became close. In the way that you do, the same experience. Like this. It made it easier …” She looks down for a moment, then continues. “It made it easier to look over the things he did, before. In Serbia, in Ukraine. Like a monster. But I need him, so I say past is past.”

I get it. I nod.

“So, time, it moves fast or it moves slow, but it moves. Things become difficult. We are fighting, all the time. At this embassy party, I meet Daniel. Now, I am in situation where I need to get away from Yakiv. Daniel, he is not handsome, he is not funny, but he is powerful in the way that Yakiv was back home. Like I said, I am a survivor. Yakiv went off this night with his friends and probably some whores. So I let Daniel seduce me. Why not? I need American protection in America, not fucking crap machismo Slav protection.”

This is hard to hear. I say, “Rosenblatt is a … Rosenblatt is a bad guy. Orders hits, shakedowns, skims drug profits—whatever smells like money, he’s into it.” I should know, right?

Iveta gives me a look. “You think I’m a teenager? I know this. And you too, you know this, because you’re one of his, how do you say it, one of his tools.”

To which I respond: “That’s not how I’d describe it. I think a better word would be pawn. And fuck that. I work for myself. Not anybody else. We have that in common, I am a survivor too—first, foremost, and always.”

“But Daniel, he hired you to … hit Yakiv. Is this not true?”

Since we’re having this little talk, might as well be straight. “Well. Yeah. True.”

“So why is Yakiv not disappearing? Are you not very good at this job?”

Woah now. Feelings and touching and grooving on shit is one dimension, but I don’t like to have my qualifications questioned. “Look here, lady, I told you that I don’t like to harm anyone until I’m clear on the reasons why I’m doing so.”

“I can give you plenty of these reasons for Yakiv.”

“Funny, that’s kind of what he had to say about you.”

“And of course Yakiv is the respectable businessman. Why not accept what he says?”

“I don’t. I’m reserving my conclusions.”

Iveta looks at me hard. “And Daniel, he hired you to kill me as well, do you deny this?”

Okay, I could play this one of two ways. I wrack my brain for a good reason to say yes. I want to say yes. But I say: “No, that’s one thing he did not do. In fact, looking back on it, he went out of his way to keep me away from you. Guess the flame still burns in old Daniel’s black heart. That’s kind of sweet, isn’t it?”

“Oh stop it. Like I say, there was a time when he was very good to me.”

“I don’t doubt it. He’s been good to me too. Always with an agenda. No, in fact, the DA didn’t engage me to kill you. That was your husband.”

She looks confused for a split second, then shrugs. “Yes, that makes sense. Why not? So. Hit man. Tough guy. You are waiting to see who has the best story before you make your moral decisions.”

“Something like that.”

Iveta Shapsko leans forward. No makeup, no nothing, in dirty clothes, and she is distracting in her beauty.

“Well then, I have some fantastic stories about your new best friend Mr. Yakiv.”