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luxury and relaxation in the Japanese tradition,” said Hans.
    So he knew their names already.
    “They’re Chinese, not Japanese. There’s a big difference,” I said angrily.
    “Yes, yes,” said Hans, brushing his fingers through the air in a dismissive gesture. “That is neither here nor there. You indicated that you would prefer your parents not worry as to your disappearance. I have gone to great pains to ensure they will not.” His own voice carried an impatient edge.
    “So why am I here?” I demanded.
    Hans’ face smoothed back into implacable good humor. “You are a very important young woman, my dear Samantha.”
    The hairs on the back of my neck bristled when he used the epithet ‘dear,’ but I let it go.
    Hans continued. “And your devotion to your family is admirable. Most admirable.” From inside his jacket pocket, my phone jingled. He checked the text. “Ah, here we are. Your father David Ruiz wishes you a pleasant day with your friend.”
    I wondered if that was an accurate rendering of my dad’s text. It didn’t sound like any text my dad would send. “Give me my phone,” I said.
    Hans continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Family loyalty should always come above loyalty to anyone or anything else.”
    I thought of the siblings he’d tormented in long–ago Germany.
    “I wonder if it would surprise you, Samantha, to learn that you and I are distant relations?” Here he paused.
    I hadn’t thought it through before, maybe in subconscious self–defense. Hans was Helmann’s son. I was the great–times–a–bazillion grand–daughter of Helmann’s wife. We were some strange form of in–laws. At least we weren’t blood–related.
    Hans’ mouth moved into a small sort of smile. “You will understand that I have no wish to harm you, or indeed to detain you longer than necessary, seeing as we are family .”
    “So I’ll ask again: why am I here?”
    “You have something that I would very much like to possess.” Here he leaned closer. “Of course, I could simply take what I want, but that would be bad manners on my part. And I believe you might be made to see how a free gift from you would benefit many, not least yourself.”
    He wants my blood. Or my genes. Or whatever Helga wanted. “I’m listening,” I said, my voice sounding a million times calmer than I actually felt.
    “Samantha, I wonder, have you ever done something which later you found that you very much regretted?”
    “Of course,” I muttered, wondering where he was going with this.
    He looked contemplative for a moment, running a finger along his chin. “I have, myself, many regrets. And I have vowed, as a result, that moving forward I shall do all in my power to benefit mankind. Call it penance, if you will. I wonder, young as you are, how much you know of the suffering of humanity?” His head cocked to one side and he sighed heavily. “Alas, of personal suffering you have known much.”
    I crossed my arms, forcing myself to betray none of what I knew about the murder of my mother by the man seated across from me.
    “My own journey in this life has been filled with pain and violence, with lack and distress at times. I desire to eliminate the pain of those who suffer with no hope.” Here he leaned towards me once more, brows drawn together as if in pain. “You have never, I think, known what it is to be in pain so great that you wished to die rather than continue to live.”
    He didn’t let me answer but continued, detailing horrors of starving children, children whose bodies were riddled with parasites and disease, children with AIDs whose parents had succumbed to the disease. His eyes rested upon the floor. “I would spare you the photographs and videos I have of those who daily suffer under these conditions. All I ask is the chance to offer hope to those who pray for death.”
    I raised my eyes to meet his. My voice came out in a ragged whisper. “I’ve heard of euthanasia.”
    “Your mind is quick.