Gunther looked after her. “She’s really upset with you about Madrid, Jeff. I’m afraid she’s not going to do this.”
“You’re wrong,” Jeff said cheerfully. “I know Tracy. She won’t be able to resist it.”
“The pallets are sealed before they are loaded onto the plane,” Ramon Vauban was explaining. The speaker was a young Frenchman, with an old face that had nothing to do with his years and black, dead eyes. He was a dispatcher with Air France Cargo, and the key to the success of the plan.
Vauban, Tracy, Jeff, and Gunther were seated at a rail-side table on the Bateau Mouche, the sightseeing boat that cruises the Seine, circling Paris.
“If the pallet is sealed,” Tracy asked, her voice crisp, “how do I get into it?”
“For last-minute shipments,” Vauban replied, “the company uses what we call soft pallets, large wooden crates with canvas on one side, fastened down only with rope. For security reasons, valuable cargo like diamonds always arrives at the last minute so it is the last to go on and the first to come off.”
Tracy said, “So the diamonds would be in a soft pallet?”
“That is correct, mademoiselle. As would you. I would arrange for the container with you in it to be placed next to the pallet with the diamonds. All you have to do when the plane is in flight is cut the ropes, open the pallet with the diamonds, exchange a box identical to theirs, get back in your container, and close it up again.”
Gunther added, “When the plane lands in Amsterdam, the guards will pick up the substitute box of diamonds and deliver it to the diamond cutters. By the time they discover the substitution, we’ll have you on an airplane out of the country. Believe me, nothing can go wrong.”
A sentence that chilled Tracy’s heart. “Wouldn’t I freeze to death up there?” she asked.
Vauban smiled. “Mademoiselle, these days, cargo planes are heated. They often carry livestock and pets. No, you will be quite comfortable. A little cramped, perhaps, but otherwise fine.”
Tracy had finally agreed to listen to their idea. A half million dollars for a few hours’ discomfort. She had examined the scheme from every angle. It can work, Tracy thought. If only Jeff Stevens were not involved!
Her feelings about him were such a roiling mixture of emotions that she was confused and angry with herself. He had done what he did in Madrid for the fun of outwitting her. He had betrayed her, cheated her, and now he was secretly laughing at her.
The three men were watching her, waiting for her answer. The boat was passing under the Pont Neuf, the oldest bridge in Paris, which the contrary French insisted on calling the New Bridge. Across the river, two lovers embraced on the edge of the embankment, and Tracy could see the blissful look on the face of the girl. She’s a fool, Tracy thought. She made her decision. She looked straight into Jeff’s eyes as she said, “All right. I’ll go along with it,” and she could feel the tension at the table dissipate.
“We don’t have much time,” Vauban was saying. His dead eyes turned to Tracy. “My brother works for a shipping agent, and he will let us load the soft container with you in it at his warehouse. I hope mademoiselle does not have claustrophobia.”
“Don’t worry about me…How long will the trip take?”
“You will spend a few minutes in the loading area and one hour flying to Amsterdam.”
“How large is the container?”
“Large enough for you to sit down. There will be other things in it to conceal you—just in case.”
Nothing can go wrong, they had promised. But just in case…
“I have a list of the things you’ll need,” Jeff told her. “I’ve already arranged for them.”
The smug bastard. He had been so sure she would say yes.
“Vauban, here, will see to it that your passport has the proper exit and entrance stamps, so you can leave Holland without any problem.”
The boat began docking at its quay.
“We can go over the final plans in the morning,” Ramon Vauban said. “Now I have to get back to work. Au revoir.” he left.