“That’s because I figure these guys did me a favor.”

“How?”

His expression didn’t change. “Maybe they knocked some sense into that dizzy brain of yours.”

She took a breath and held it, pursing her lips together.

“Not used to being called names, are you?” Stark laughed, not pleasantly. “The only child, the rich girl, the talented pianist. Everything’s gone smoothly for you your entire life. You’ve never had to get dirt under your nails or suffer a whole hell of a lot or listen to people call you things you don’t want to be called.”

“Listen, you arrogant, inconsiderate shit,” she said, her voice low and controlled, “you don’t know anything about me, and until you do I suggest you keep your remarks to yourself. I was just backhanded up your front steps because of you.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, dammit, that’s right!”

“And I invited you here, did I? I knew you were coming, did I? I knew there might be trouble and so did you, and that’s why you played it smart like I told you and stayed the hell in New York like you were supposed to. Lady, let’s not talk about arrogance, and let’s not talk about being inconsiderate.”

She thought she took his outburst well. She didn’t cower, she didn’t run, she didn’t avert her eyes from his black stare. She just sat there and took it and even considered letting him have it right back. But she didn’t. Her shoulder and her wrist hurt, and besides, he had a point.

Instead she drank some more beer. “I found out about LZ, you know. Len told me. I’ve never read it, obviously, or seen the movie.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

She ignored him. “When the book came out, and even the movie, I didn’t have time to pay much attention to goings-on outside the world of music. I still don’t. I have so much work, so many commitments, so much I want to do, and so much everyone else wants me to do. I’ll never even come close to being the kind of pianist I want to be. I’m not saying I’m proud of being such a ding-a-ling, and I’m not saying that’s how all musicians should or do operate, just that I’ve had to be single-minded about what I do.”

“Juliana,” Stark said, “what the hell does that have to do with any of this mess? Two people are dead, and you just-” She shot him an irritated look. “I know two people are dead, damn you, and you don’t understand. Maybe you can’t. Maybe it doesn’t matter to you. I haven’t been single-minded about what I do just to make a name, to get to where I am today. I’ve just always been absolutely, compulsively driven to play piano. I don’t know why, I’ve never known. Ever since I can remember, I’ve had to play. I never imagined myself doing anything else. My status today is a result of that compulsion, not the reason for it. But I’m losing that need-no, maybe that’s not the right word. The basis for it is changing. I need to be a part of the world.”

She looked at Matthew, but he didn’t say anything. She felt pale and weak and annoyingly vulnerable. Why was she trying to explain? “Never mind,” she said. “I know Rachel Stein and Uncle Johannes are dead, and I know what happened out there just now, but I can’t back out.”

Stark settled back in his chair, one foot up on his knee, his eyes never leaving her. “You’re not going to bird-dog me so you can get excited about playing piano again.”

“That’s not what I meant!” She felt her face heat up. “I am not doing this because I’m bored. I’m doing it because I have to. I have no choice. Ten years ago maybe I wouldn’t have bothered. You and all the other jerks involved with this mess could have done as you damned well pleased. I’d have been fine. But now I can’t not act. I can’t run away. It’s not so I’ll be a better pianist.” She sat back, angry with herself. She’d stopped trying to explain herself to people years ago. If they understood her, okay. If not, to hell with them. Why was it different with Matthew Stark? “Anyway, I’m here.”

“For about five minutes.”

“Look-”

“Sweetheart, your butt’s back in New York as soon as I can get it on a plane out of here.”

She clamped her mouth shut. “I knew I shouldn’t have tried to explain.”

His expression softened, but not much. “I’m glad you tried,” he said. “It’s just that it doesn’t make any difference. Look, if it’s any consolation, I understand a lot more about where you’re coming from than I’d like to let on. I know what it’s like to be single-minded about work. I was about mine at one time-and like you say, not because I wanted to be rich and famous, but because I needed to get down on paper things that I needed to say. And I know what it’s like to get to the top and have the pressures of being there-the expectations, the goddamn effort involved-interfere with the work itself.”

“Is that why you’re at the Gazette?” she asked quietly.

He grinned. “I didn’t have a J.J. Pepper to slide into.” He finished off his beer in one long swallow, set the empty bottle on the table, and rose. “Tell you what, you be smart and don’t put up a fuss about going back to New York, I’ll tell you about Master Sergeant Phillip Bloch on the way to the airport.”

She had to ask. “If I’m not smart and do put up a fuss?”

“Darling,” he said, leaning very close, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her mouth and smell the beer, “do you really want to know?”

Sweet Catharina…

Hendrik de Geer stumbled into the Upper East Side bar and slid onto the stool as he ordered a double shot of gin. He ignored the looks he received from the well-dressed clientele. What did they know? The gin wasn’t Dutch, but it would do. Anything would.

I’d forgotten how sweet.

He filled his glass, drank down the needed liquid. How much would it take before oblivion overtook him? One bottle-two?

Breathe, Johannes…goddamn you, breathe!

They’d brought his body to the streets of the old Jewish quarter. Dumped it there among the ghosts. Hendrik had kept his face uncovered, half-hoping he’d be recognized. Not caring. But there was no one there anymore to know Hendrik de Geer and what he’d done. So many of the Jews were gone; a hundred thousand dead, it was said. He believed it. A dozen were on his conscience.

I didn’t mean for them to die!

But they did.

He poured another glass, drank it down, then another.

Bloch will go after the Minstrel. Ryder won’t stop him.

It was none of his concern. Samuel Ryder was a coward and a fool, and to save himself he would have to appease Phillip Bloch. For him, there was no other choice. He’s like me, this senator, the Dutchman thought. He would involve people he cares about in his schemes to save his own skin.

Now that Bloch knew about the diamond, he would never be satisfied until it was in his possession. Ryder would help if necessary. Bloch would know that.

They’ll go to Catharina…to her daughter…to Wilhelmina.

Willie, the wily old bitch. There was no forgiveness in her stone heart. She could always see through him. For a time, she’d been excited by what he was. Now she’d kill him without a thought.

You must stop Bloch. You know how he thinks. You can do it.

No, he couldn’t. Phillip Bloch had a stockpile of weapons, he had men who were well trained, if loyal only to themselves, and he had contacts, like Senator Ryder. He was tough, deliberate, cautious, and very dangerous. Hendrik was too old to take him on. Too tired.

And if Catharina dies?

Then she dies.

And he thought, as he refilled his glass, I’m already damned.

They took Matthew’s car, a black Porsche, to the airport. “A German car?” Juliana said. “Aunt Willie would be disgusted.”

Their shoulders almost touched in the cozy confines of the sportscar, and Matthew saw that she was still pale from her ordeal on his front steps. He glanced down at the slender, blunt-nailed hands folded on her lap. Her wrist was swollen, but she’d refused his offer of ice, assuring him and, he thought, herself that the injury was only minor. He hadn’t told her what it was like to stand there and watch her tough it out with two of Bloch’s men. Hadn’t told her how the anger had ripped through him; how he’d had to fight the impulse to go after the goddamn cowards. They wouldn’t deliver Bloch’s message to him personally but had waited for an unarmed piano player. She’d handled herself well under the circumstances.