If Tomorrow Comes by Sidney Sheldon

“A robbery?” Her voice was shocked. “On this train?”

“I fear so, signorina.”

When Tracy stepped out of her compartment, two detectives moved in, opened her suitcases, and began carefully sifting through the contents.

At the end of four hours the search had turned up several packets of marijuana, five ounces of cocaine, a knife, and an illegal gun. There was no sign of the missing jewelry.

Inspector Ricci could not believe it. “Have you searched the entire train?” he demanded of his lieutenant.

“Inspector, we have searched every inch. We have examined the engine, the dining rooms, the bar, the toilets, the compartments. We have searched the passengers and crew and examined every piece of luggage. I can swear to you that the jewelry is not on board this train. Perhaps the lady imagined the theft.”

But Inspector Ricci knew better. He had spoken to the waiters, and they had confirmed that Silvana Luadi had indeed worn a dazzling display of jewelry at dinner the evening before.

A representative of the Orient Express had flown to Milan. “You cannot detain this train any longer,” he insisted. “We are already far behind schedule.”

Inspector Ricci was defeated. He had no excuse for holding the train any further. There was nothing more he could do. The only explanation he could think of was that somehow, during the night, the thief had tossed the jewels off the train to a waiting confederate. But could it have happened that way? The timing would have been impossible. The thief could not have known in advance when the corridor would be clear, when a conductor or passenger might be prowling about, what time the train would be at some deserted assignation point. This was a mystery beyond the inspector’s power to solve.

“Let the train go on,” he ordered.

He stood watching helplessly as the Orient Express slowly pulled out of the station. With it went his promotion, his raise, and a blissful orgy with Silvana Luadi.

The sole topic of conversation in the breakfast car was the robbery.

“It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in years,” confessed a prim teacher at a girls’ school. She fingered a small gold necklace with a tiny diamond chip. “I’m lucky they didn’t take this.”

“Very,” Tracy gravely agreed.

When Alberto Fornati walked into the dining car, he caught sight of Tracy and hurried over to her. “You know what happened, of course. But did you know it was Fornati’s wife who was robbed?”

“No!”

“Yes! My life was in great danger. A gang of thieves crept into my cabin and chloroformed me. Fornati could have been murdered in his sleep.”

“How terrible.”

“È una bella fregatura! Now I shall have to replace all of Silvana’s jewelry. It’s going to cost me a fortune.”

“The police didn’t find the jewels?”

“No, but Fornati knows how the thieves got rid of them.”

“Really! How?”

He looked around and lowered his voice. “An accomplice was waiting at one of the stations we passed during the night. The ladri threw the jewels out of the train, and—ecco—it was done.”

Tracy said admiringly, “How clever of you to figure that out.”

“Sì.” He raised his brows meaningfully. “You will not forget our little tryst in Venezia?”

“How could I?” Tracy smiled.

He squeezed her arm hard. “Fornati is looking forward to it. Now I must go console Silvana. She is hysterical.”

When the Orient Express arrived at the Santa Lucia station in Venice, Tracy was among the first passengers to disembark. She had her luggage taken directly to the airport and was on the next plane to London with Silvana Luadi’s jewelry.

Gunther Hartog was going to be pleased.

23

The seven-story headquarters building of Interpol, the International Criminal Police Organization, is at 26 Rue Armen-gaud, in the hills of St. Cloud, about six miles west of Paris, discreetly hidden behind a high green fence and white stone walls. The gate at the street entrance is locked twenty-four hours a day, and visitors are admitted only after being scrutinized through a closed-circuit television system. Inside the building, at the head of the stairs at each floor, are white iron gates which are locked at night, and every floor is equipped with a separate alarm system and closed-circuit television.

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