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way into the penthouse. Mikhail Vashin was standing in front of the architectural model of his skyscraper complex, Vashin Towers. It had become his favorite spot and he never seemed to tire of it, especially late at night. A man sat on one of the heavily brocaded couches across from Viktor Kraiko, the president of the Russian Federation. Two guards stood in front of the elevator doors.
    “Is this the girl?” Vashin said, his voice dull and flat. Geraldine recognized the tone and nodded. She wanted to leave but knew that was impossible. “Well,” Vashin said, turning to the girl, “are you the one they call Little Dove?” The girl’s voice was barely audible when she answered. “You have nothing to fear from me,” Vashin said. He held out a closed hand and opened his fingers. Resting on his palm were a pair of beautiful amber cuff links mounted in silver. The amber droplets glowed with a golden warmth and richness. Encased in each gem was an identical insect, both with extended wings as if ready to fly. But they were of a species extinct over ten million years.
    “The silver mountings are nothing,” Vashin explained, “a convenience. But the amber is priceless and has been part of Poland’s history for six hundred years. They were stolen by the Nazis in 1942 and later confiscated by the Soviets. I decided it was time to return them to their rightful owners”—he gestured at the man sitting opposite Viktor Kraiko—“as a token of Russian goodwill. You were to make Mr. Gabrowski comfortable, be his companion, and warm his bed. Surely, you are well paid for your charms. So why did you steal the cuff links?”
    The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “Because they are so beautiful and…and…I wanted a special gift formy boyfriend’s name day.” Her head hung low and she whispered, repeating herself. “They are so beautiful.” It was a plea for understanding.
    “Indeed they are,” Vashin said. He reached out and lifted her chin. A strand of errant hair fell around her left cheek, making her even more vulnerable. “Undress,” Vashin said. The girl threw Geraldine a quick glance and reached for the straps of her dress. With a quick motion, the dress fell to the floor. She only wore black panties and shoes. Without hesitating, she hooked her thumbs into the panties and stepped out of them. She stood there, tall and radiant in her youth. Vashin handed her the cuff links. “Please return these to Mr. Gabrowski.”
    Natasha did as commanded and walked over to the man sitting on the couch. “Put them on his cuffs,” Vashin told her. She knelt in front of Gabrowski as she fastened the cuff links through his shirt cuffs. Her long fingernails made the task difficult. Finally, she was finished and stood. Gabrowski ran his hand down her stomach, lingering for a moment. “Come here,” Vashin ordered. Obediently, Natasha returned to him, all eyes rooted on her. She stood in front of Vashin, her hands dangling at her side. He reached out and fondled her breasts. “So young and firm,” he said. “So beautiful.” He squeezed hard, released, and squeezed harder. Her eyes filled with tears but she didn’t move. “You do not steal from my guests,” he said. “Because of your foolishness, your boyfriend is dead.” He squeezed again, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. She cried out.
    “So young,” Vashin sighed, releasing her. “You may leave.” She knelt to gather up her clothes on the floor but he stepped on them. She looked up and he shook his head. He jerked his chin toward the elevator. She stood. “Leave your shoes,” Vashin ordered. She stepped out of her black pumps and walked quickly across the room, totally naked. As she reached the two guards, one inserted a key into the elevator lock and twisted it fully counterclockwise. She stood at the closed doors. The doors silently opened but there was no elevator. The girl gasped as the other guard placed a hand between her shoulder blades and gave a