“Matthew-”

His stomach twisted together at the strain he heard in her voice. “What happened, where are you?”

“Your damned Phillip Bloch took my mother. I met the Dutchman, Hendrik de Geer. He’s gone after Mother, I think. I don’t know, I-he said we shouldn’t call the police.”

“He’s right. Tell me where you are, Juliana. I’ll come for you.”

“There’s more between you and this Phillip Bloch than you told me, isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me now.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay. My mother threw a knife at him. It just knicked his wrist.” She sounded breathless, just skimming along the surface of her emotions, not diving in too deep. “Tell Aunt Willie, won’t you? She always thinks Mother’s such a wimp.”

“Where are you?” he asked again, his voice burlap-rough.

“Does Senator Ryder know Bloch as well?”

“Yes, goddamnit. Where are you?”

“He wants the Minstrel. He’ll come after Aunt Willie, too. He’d have taken me, but I hit his man Peters and then Hendrik de Geer helped me because Mother yelled for him to…” She broke off, her voice choking; she coughed. “Bloch broke my mother’s arm, just snapped it like kindling. He’s a terrible person, isn’t he? I-” She cut herself off. “Matthew, tell Aunt Willie I’m okay.”

Stark gripped the phone. “Juliana, let me come for you-”

“It’s all right,” she said dully. “Really. This isn’t your problem, Matthew. I don’t want you hurt, too.”

“I can handle it. Juliana-”

But it was too late. She’d already hung up.

Aunt Willie was standing next to him. She handed him a set of keys. “They’re to Juliana’s Nazi car,” she said. “She may have another set and be in it herself, but I don’t think so. I found these in her room. She’s gone to Vermont.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know.”

“The Minstrel?” he asked, with a flash of his brownblack eyes. “I’ll be gone to hell. Juliana has it, doesn’t she?”

I don’t even like diamonds. Right, sweetheart.

“Go to Vermont,” Wilhelmina said.

“How do I know you’re not just trying to get rid of me?” He was remembering the cat in Antwerp.

Wilhelmina sighed, a touch of emotion coming into her unremarkable eyes. “You’re in love with Juliana, aren’t you?” she asked, without surprise. “A man like you wouldn’t have many women. He would wait, and when the right one came along, he would know it.”

Every fiber inside him told him the old woman was right, but he only hissed impatiently. “Jesus Christ-”

“You don’t know that I’m not just trying to get rid of you,” she said. “But, understand me, Matthew Stark, I know you care deeply for Juliana-and nothing must happen to her. She’s the last of the Peperkamps. It’s not you who must trust me-I must trust you.”

“And I’ll bet there aren’t many people you do trust.”

She shrugged impassively. “That is so.”

Matthew quickly told her about the knife and de Geer, and if either surprised her, she didn’t say. She just produced addresses for her niece’s garage and Vermont house-Stark guessed she’d only started mopping the floor after she’d given the place a thorough shake down-and hurried him out the door. She told him to mind the man across the street watching the building.

Stark assured her he could handle the situation.

“You would have survived the occupation, I think,” she said.

From Wilhelmina Peperkamp, Stark knew that was a supreme compliment.

“I will get you the Minstrel,” Catharina said, leaning forward toward Bloch as the car in which they were riding turned into Central Park West. She cradled her broken arm as best she could, but the pain was excruciating. It had already begun to swell badly. Ah, Mamma, she thought with tears in her eyes, I remember your strength. Bloch was in the front seat with one of his men; she was in the back with another. Neither was as young as the man Peters, and neither offered to help with her arm. “There’s no need to involve the others.”

His cold, clear gray eyes fastened to her. “I make the decisions.”

“If you touch my daughter or my sister, I won’t get you the Minstrel.” She blinked past the pain. “I won’t care what you do to me.”

“But you’ll care what I do to them.” He turned back around, still furious with himself for not having pushed it to the limit with de Geer. He should have killed the Dutchman and taken the girl and never minded the crazy, ugly look in de Geer’s eyes. Maybe he still could get the diamond, maybe not. Either way, he had to go through this; he had other matters to consider, namely covering his ass. Without looking back at the baker, he added, “I’m through taking chances.”

Catharina’s heart beat rapidly, and it was difficult to control her breathing. But she refused to faint. They would be at Juliana’s apartment soon. She had to trust that Hendrik had gotten her to safety. Hendrik…once more she was trusting him with her loved ones. What choice did she have?

What choice did you have then?

She looked out at the lights in Central Park. Juliana and Wilhelmina would not be at the apartment. She had to believe that. Still, she said once more, “You’re wasting time, Sergeant Bloch. We can just go now for the Minstrel.”

“Yeah, we could,” came the hard, mean voice. “But we ain’t going to.”

Wilhelmina prepared herself a snack of bread and butter. Not butter, really. Juliana used some kind of low fat, low salt, no cholesterol margarine the old Dutchwoman thought disgusting. She found a piece of semisweet chocolate in the cupboard and broke it up onto the bread. Much more palatable.

The doorman had called up, saying a Hendrik de Geer was downstairs asking to see Wilhelmina Peperkamp. Of course he would know she was there, of course he wouldn’t bother with a fake name or trying to sneak in. He knew her too well. He would know she would let him in, that she had no choice.

The doorbell rang, and she went into the foyer, opening the door. She made herself not react to the sight of him. Stocky, rugged, the same. His blue eyes held hers a moment. Then she gave him a condescending smile as she noticed he was puffing from exertion. “Getting old, Hendrik?”

He replied in Dutch. “You grate on a man’s nerves, Willie.”

He still called her Willie. He’d started it, almost sixty years ago. “I grate on everyone’s nerves. Come in.”

She turned her back to him and went into the living room, pretending not to care what he did. Johannes was dead and now her sister was missing. And Juliana was going for the Minstrel. Nothing useful would be accomplished by looking backward. She must look ahead.

Hendrik had followed her into the room and was looking at Juliana’s fish. “She’s a strange one, isn’t she? Unpredictable, but tough.” He turned to Wilhelmina, who was standing at the piano, not too close. “The Peperkamp in her, I suppose.”

She put down the last of her bread and chocolate, unable to eat.

“You always did have a sweet tooth,” Hendrik said.

“One of my indulgences.”

“That and your flowers.”

She shrugged, but his words made her think of home, her little apartment, her routines. Her plants would probably be dead when she returned home. She’d neglected to have anyone come in to water them while she was away.

Hendrik was looking at her. “We would have had a nice life together, if the war hadn’t come along. We would have kept each other in line.”

“I can’t see you living with me in a little Delftshaven apartment growing begonias.”

“Maybe we wouldn’t have. Maybe we would have had a yacht and be out sailing the seven seas.”

She scoffed. “Always the dreamer.”

“And you, Willie? Haven’t you ever dreamed?”

“Only of what was, never of what might have been. Now enough of this nonsense.” She gave him a hard look. “What do you want here?”