“Not upsetting you wasn’t exactly my first priority,” said Nemo. “And you managed to make the van almost impossible to find. God only knows how many neighbors saw me lugging Jean around looking for you.”

“You’re the one who told us to go.”

“Out of the house, I told you to go, not out of the damn neighborhood.”

“You might want to be a little more specific next time. Besides, we were barely a block away,” said Patton, and then, most unexpectedly, she laughed.

“What the hell is so funny?” said Nemo. But Patton made no attempt to explain. How could she? She had no intention of admitting that arguing with Nemo made her happier than she thought possible so soon after a traumatic episode. She wished they could keep sparring for hours, but Ruthie interrupted the discussion.

“Here it is,” said Ruthie. “Number AL1533. My German isn’t perfect, but I think it says, ‘Medieval alchemical scroll after George Ripley, circa 1550.’ ”

“What does that mean, ‘medieval alchemical scroll’?” said Nemo.

“That part I understand,” said Patton. “But who is George Ripley? And what does he have to do with Himmler?”

“What is that book?” said Jean, who seemed to be recovering her strength. “What are you looking at and why are you talking about a Ripley Scroll?”

“Wait a second,” said Nemo, turning toward Jean. “You know about this Ripley guy?”

“I’m an art historian,” said Jean, “so certainly I know about Ripley Scrolls.”

“Who did you say you were again?” said Nemo.

The van was stopped at a red light, and Jean suddenly found three faces staring into hers. She wanted nothing more than to be in a deliciously comfortable bed at the Hotel Sacher in Vienna, rather than in the back of a van driving through the empty streets of Munich in the dead of night. Ingrid Weiss had wanted her dead; these strangers had saved her—was that reason enough to trust them and to become involved in whatever they were doing?

“I wonder if you could just drop me at the train station,” said Jean. “I’m supposed to be in Vienna tomorrow for a conference.”

“Afraid we can’t do that,” said Nemo. “Ruthie here will tell you—once you see our faces, you pretty much have to come along with us.”

“It’s true,” said Ruthie.

“Listen,” said Patton. “We look after our own and you are one of our own now. If you don’t trust Nemo after he risked his life to save you, you must not trust anyone.”

“Your name is Nemo?” said Jean.

“As far as you know,” said Nemo.

“As far as anyone knows,” said Patton.

The light turned green and Patton drove forward, her attention still on the stranger in the back seat. “I’ve seen medieval scrolls,” she said. “In some classes in library science, rare books, that sort of thing. But I’ve never heard of George Ripley.”