"We'll be landing at Kennedy International Airport in approximately 30 minutes," said the flight attendant. "Please obey the fasten seat belt signs and stay in your seats."

         Zoe set her watch back six hours. It still amazed her. Even though they hadn't left Holland until after 6:00 p.m., and it was a seven hour flight, it was only a few minutes after 8:00 p.m. in New York. But their journey wasn't over yet. Martine Montiello, her friend's mother, and Zoe still had to catch a shuttle flight back to Albany Airport where Martine's grandmother and her own mother and sister would be waiting.

         "I'm beat," said Martine, yawning. "I don't care what time the clock says it is, my body knows better."

         "We just need to get our luggage and take one more short flight home, girls," Helene said as if they needed coaxing.

         Zoe was still looking at her best friend's mother with amazement. What a harrowing time they had had in Amsterdam! In her wildest dreams she couldn't have guessed that Helene would come back with a new identity and a whole new family history. But Zoe would reflect on it all later. It would take weeks to sort it all out--solving a robbery and finding out Helene was an actual real life sort of Anne Frank! But the hardest part was keeping the promise Zoe had made. She had given her word to Helene that she wouldn't tell Martine or anyone else what she had found out.

         Following signs through the airport, the three of them hurried downstairs to retrieve their bags. Around the three huge circular conveyor belts, people pushed and shoved each other, trying to grab their luggage before it glided by.

         "Here's our flight number," said Helene, pointing to the electric sign above the middle carousal.

         A mass of luggage tumbled together onto the conveyor belt. There was no snobbery here--nylon gym bags and Louie Vittone suitcases all scraped and bumped together as they made their way from the chute where the baggage men were busy dumping them onto the large metal conveyor belt. Across the huge circle, Zoe spotted her bag. She dove between two other people and snatched her suitcase up. Heaving it over the side of the circular conveyor, she plopped it onto the floor.

         "Over there, Martine," said Zoe, pointing to the opposite side of the carousel. Zoe waited. In case Martine missed her suitcase, Zoe would catch it as it came on this side. But she needn't have worried. Two smiling young men shoved each other aside, trying to be the one who would have the honor of taking Martine's luggage off the carousel.

         "I can't seem to find my suitcase," said Helene, sounding worried. "It should have been in the same bunch as your bags."

         People were dragging their luggage to customs as Helene searched again through the jumbled bags still circling on the carousel. Some luggage had either fallen off or been taken off by mistake and were laying haphazardly around the moving conveyor belt. But Helene's suitcase wasn't among them.

         "What are we going to do, Mom?" whined Martine, rubbing her large hazel eyes. "We'll miss our plane home."

         "I'll report the luggage missing and head for the shuttle to Albany," answered Helene with a smile that didn't extend to her eyes. "No big deal. It'll just take a little longer before I have to wash all my dirty clothes."

         Helene helped Martine drag her bags to the United States Customs check point as Zoe struggled behind. By the time they got to the area where they would be admitted back into the United States, there was a long waiting line.

         "How are you doing with your bag, Zoe?" asked Helene.

         "No problem," answered Zoe, although she felt like her arm would never be the same again. Zoe had shoved as many of Martine's clothes as she could into her own suitcase so Martine could fit some of the dolls she had bought in Holland in her luggage. Besides the dolls crammed into Martine's suitcase, each girl's carry-on was filled with the dolls Martine felt were too special to be thrown in the plane's cargo area.

         "I never would have believed dolls could weigh so much," giggled Martine. "It must be all that bubbly plastic and cardboard they're wrapped in that's making my bag feel like its full of bricks. Good thing those two nice men helped me take my suitcase off the conveyor belt."

         "What men?" snapped Helene as she grabbed hold of her daughter's arm. "Who helped you? Did they touch your carry-on?"

         "Mom, you're hurting me," said Martine, pulling her arm free. "I don't know who they were--just two young guys who lifted my suitcase off the carousal. Why would anyone want to touch my carry-on?"

         Helene's eyes searched her daughter's face and then landed accusingly on Zoe. "Did you see them?"

         "Next," said the custom's agent before Zoe could answer.

         After a few questions from the custom agent, Helene, Martine and Zoe walked into the arrival area and headed for the Customer Service desk. Seeming to regain her composure, Helene filled out a few forms at the desk.

         "Flight 793 boarding for Albany Airport," cracked the intercom system.

         "Let's go, girls," said Helene, leading the way to the boarding area for the smaller plane that would take them home.

         "I feel like I'm in a toy plane compared to the huge jet that took us across the ocean," said Martine as they settled into the cramped seats.

         Helene smiled but Zoe noticed that her eyes were darting around the plane as if she expected to see someone. Someone she wasn't particularly looking forward to meeting. Zoe wondered if that someone was Wilhelm. The name sent shivers down her spine. While in Holland, Zoe had actually managed to avert a robbery and keep Helene's friend, Inger, from being blamed. Zoe was certain Wilhelm was the brain behind the robbery and probably a whole slew of other crimes, and he hadn't been caught.

         But what really worried Zoe was that she wasn't really sure if Martine's mother had been dating Wilhelm to try and get evidence against him to help her friend or because Helene actually liked him. Helene wouldn't be fooled into helping him, would she?

         "I don't understand how your luggage could have been lost, Mom," said Martine. "Our bags were put on the plane in Holland and we didn't stop anywhere until we landed in New York. Besides, why did we have to get our bags from the big jet and then re-check them before getting on to this plane? We didn't do that when we went to Holland."

         "My luggage is probably knocking around JFK Airport or, more likely, it's still in Holland," said Helene. "I'm sure my suitcase will show up soon and, when it does, the airlines will ship it up to Albany. As far as checking our bags again goes, that's the way it is with an international flight. The United States is worried about what people from overseas might be bringing into this country."

         Zoe felt very worldly-wise after her first overseas vacation in which she had met real criminals both from the past and present. No wonder Customs people worried.

         As the plane made its approach in Albany, Zoe looked down at the monopoly-sized homes and roads. On one of those roads was the house she had been born in. But as much as Zoe tried to conjure up some homesickness, the only feeling that she felt creeping over her was depression.