4 p.m. The repeated ringing of the bell pulls me from my dreams. In pajamas, I open the door. The surprised look on the delivery man’s face reminds me of the gap between this world and the other. He hands me a package and something to sign. I scribble my signature and close the door. I look at the parcel—quite large—with a small card. …My Brother, many thanks for Florenska, your old Droog*, the phoenix of the Balkans… A smile spreads across my face. I thought he was dead! The press had announced it. This story is improbable. I had seen the photo of his body riddled with bullets. Perplexed, I open the package… A beautiful wooden box with the famous PP* logo. Excited, I lift the lid… That madman! Platinum and rubies shine with a thousand sparks. It’s magnificent. Nautilus. Nothing is accidental in his choice. Impossible coming from him… All of it takes me back several years… To the great days of CazinoLA…