“Can we talk about something else,” said Ruthie, with a slight edge of panic in her voice. “Like where exactly we’re going?” While Patton seemed resigned to her own murder and Jean was determined it wouldn’t happen, Ruthie sounded plain scared. They had escaped the two Germans in England and they had escaped the explosion in Munich. Patton imagined that Ruthie didn’t fancy having to do any more escaping.

“Why don’t we talk about what Patton and Ruthie got up to while Nemo and I were at the library,” said Jean.

“What do you mean?” said Nemo.

“How did you know?” said Patton.

“I work on a college campus,” said Jean, “and besides, I’m not blind.”

“Apparently I am,” said Nemo.

“These two are having a little fling,” said Jean with a smile.

“Or,” said Ruthie tentatively, “it might be more than a fling.” She reached out a trembling hand and laid it on Patton’s shoulder.

“Yes, it might be,” said Patton, putting her hand on top of Ruthie’s and feeling her heart give a little leap. Did Ruthie feel the same way she did?

“Well,” said Nemo after an awkward moment of silence, “suppose Jean tells us about this place we’re going.”

“It’s a tiny village the South Tyrolean Alps called Brenner,” said Jean. “The population is something like five hundred people.”

“I’ve heard of the Brenner Pass,” said Patton.

“That’s the place,” said Jean.

“Sounds peaceful,” said Ruthie.

“Not exactly,” said Jean. “I went through there one time on an art tour of northern Italy. The Brenner Pass is one of the major routes through the Alps and has a four-lane highway and a railroad. The pass is so narrow that the village is basically smack up against the railway with the highway just on the other side. But the valley beyond is beautiful—green meadows spreading out from the village and the mountains springing up on every side, first the tree-covered hills and then the higher, rocky, snowcapped peaks.” Jean sounded almost wistful as she recalled her previous visit to Brenner.

“And have you seen this chapel?” said Nemo.

“No,” said Jean. “We didn’t even stop. It was a bus trip from Innsbruck to Venice. We left after breakfast and had lunch on the Grand Canal.”

“Tell me again how some tiny chapel in the Alps is going to give us the secret to alchemy?” said Ruthie.

“We don’t know,” said Nemo. “We just know we need to get there before Ingrid Weiss.”

“So drive faster,” said Ruthie, and Nemo did.

By the time they reached Innsbruck and began the twenty-five-mile climb toward Brenner, the sky was aflame with the Alpine sunset. They had stopped once for gas and food, and to take turns in a single-hole restroom. In Brenner, the sky was still light, but the streetlights had come on and lights twinkled in the houses across the valley.

“Now where?” said Nemo.