I sat there amazed by him. If Poppy was like me, then he was better than both of us. He was happy, content. I could see it in his eyes, the way they brightened and sparkled when he spoke of the surviving individual coming back. You could just tell he couldn't wait to come back. He loved it.

"Have you eaten your fill?" he asked.

"Yes, I have," I said, turning to Zohra. "It was wonderful. Thank you."

Samas stood up and walked into the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Let's adjourn to my private gallery, I have a few things I'd like to show you. We can discuss the Ascension as well."

"Sounds good," I said.

"Thank you, dear. That was delicious, as usual." He bent down to kiss her. "It's over here," he said to me, leading the way.

He punched a code into the electronic keypad of the security system next to the white door, making sure I couldn't see. The door was thicker than I thought it should have been and made a distinctive 'whoosh' as it opened, as though there was a controlled atmosphere inside the darkened room. He turned on the lights and the room exploded with colors and shapes. The walls were completely covered with a plethora of multicolored canvases hanging frame to frame. The different-sized interlocking frames formed a giant dissonant jigsaw puzzle that continued around the four walls. The lighting inside was completely diffused and seemed to radiate from the sterile white ceiling and floor. The room had the feel of a medical laboratory. Two wooden chairs and a small white table waited in the center of the room.

"Come in, quickly," he said. I stepped in and he closed the door behind me. "The sea air is horrible for them," he said, looking around. "It's very corrosive, it can dull colors in a matter of decades. But I think wine actually helps to restore their color. It does if you drink enough of it anyway," he said, prying out the cork.

I examined several of the pieces as he poured. Each one had a small brass nameplate set into the bottom of the frame giving the title, artist and date.

"This is the collection. We are standing in my favorite place in all the world." Samas held out a wine glass to me. "This is the best of the best. Centuries of culture and art. Dozens of lives, some tortured, some satisfied, but all fulfilled and all right here in this room with us."

I wandered about as he spoke, looking at the paintings and their tags: Cezanne, Bassano, Gaugin, Caravaggio, David, Van Dyck, Manet were only some of the names I saw. "How much is this collection worth?"