Sidney Sheldon - If Tomorrow Comes

Suddenly, Tracy was listening intently. Jeff was planning to rob the place.

“Every window and door is wired. The alarms connect directly to the police station. Even if you did manage to get inside the house, the whole place is crisscrossed with invisible infrared beams.”

“I know all that.” Tracy was a little smug.

“Then you must also know that the beam doesn't sound the alarm when you step into it. It sounds the alarm when you step out of it. It senses the heat change. There's no way you can get through it without setting it off.”

She had not known that. How had Jeff learned of It?

“Why are you telling me all this?”

He smiled, and she thought he had never looked more attractive. “I really don't want you to get caught, Duchess. I like having you around. You know, Tracy, you and I could become very good friends.”

“You're wrong,” Tracy assured him. She saw Jeff's date hurrying toward them. “Here comes Ms. Diabetes. Enjoy yourself.”

As Tracy walked away, she heard Jeff's date say, “I brought you some champagne to wash it down with, poor baby.”

The dinner was sumptuous. Each course was accompanied by the appropriate wine, impeccably served by white-gloved footmen. The first course was a native asparagus with a white truffle sauce, followed by a consommй with delicate morels. After that came a saddle of lamb with an assortment of fresh vegetables from the count's gardens. A crisp endive salad was next. For dessert there were individually molded ice-cream servings and a silver epergne, piled high with petite fours. Coffee and brandy came last. Cigars were offered to the men, and the women were given Joy perfume in a Baccarat crystal flacon.

After dinner, the Count de Matigny turned to Tracy. “You mentioned that you were interested in seeing some of my paintings. Would you like to take a look now?”

“I'd love to,” Tracy assured him.

The picture gallery was a private museum filled with Italian masters, French Impressionists, and Picassos. The long hall was ablaze with the bewitching colors and forms painted by immortals. There were Monets and Renoirs, Canalettos and Guardis and Tintorettos. There was an exquisite Tiepolo and Guercino and a Titian, and there was almost a full wall of Cйzannes. There was no calculating the value of the collection.

Tracy stared at the paintings a long time, savoring their beauty. “I hope these are well guarded.”

The count smiled. “On three occasions thieves have tried to get at my treasures. One was killed by my dog, the second was maimed, and the third is serving a life term in prison. The chвteau is an invulnerable fortress, Duchess.”

“I'm so relieved to hear that, Count.”

There was a bright flash of light from outside. “The fireworks display is beginning,” the count said. “I think you'll be amused.” He took Tracy's soft hand in his papery, dry one and led her out of the picture gallery. “I'm leaving for Deauville in the morning, where I have a villa on the sea. I've invited a few friends down next weekend. You might enjoy it.”

“I'm sure I would,” Tracy said regretfully, “but I'm afraid my husband is getting restless. He insists that I return.”

The fireworks display lasted for almost an hour, and Tracy took advantage of the distraction to reconnoiter the house. What Jeff had said was true: The odds against a successful burglary were formidable, but for that very reason Tracy found the challenge irresistible. She knew that upstairs in the count's bedroom were $2 million in jewels, and half a dozen masterpieces, including a Leonardo.

The chвteau is a treasure house, Gunther Hartog had told her, and it's guarded like one. Don't make a move unless you have a foolproof plan.

Well, I've worked out a plan, Tracy thought. Whether it's foolproof or not, I'll know tomorrow.

The following night was chilly and cloudy, and the high walls around the chвteau appeared grim and forbidding as Tracy stood in the shadows, wearing black coveralls, gum-soled shoes, and supple black kid gloves, carrying a shoulder bag. For an unguarded moment Tracy's mind embraced the memory of the walls of the penitentiary, and she gave an involuntary shiver.

She had driven the rented van alongside the stone wall at the back of the estate. From the other side of the wall came a low, fierce growl that developed into a frenzied barking, as the dog leapt into the air, trying to attack. Tracy visualized the Doberman's powerful, heavy body and deadly teeth.

She called out softly to someone in the van, “Now.”

A slight, middle-aged man, also dressed in black, with a rucksack on his back, came out of the van holding onto a female Doberman. The dog was in season, and the tone of barking from the other side of the stone wall suddenly changed to an excited whine.

Tracy helped lift the bitch to the top of the van, which was almost the exact height of the wall.

“One, two, three,” she whispered.

And the two of them tossed the bitch over the wall into the grounds of the estate. There were two sharp barks, followed by a series of snuffling noises, then the sound of the dogs running. After that all was quiet.

Tracy turned to her confederate. “Let's go.”

The man, Jean Louis, nodded. She had found him in Antibes. He was a thief who had spent most of his life in prison. Jean Louis was not bright, but he was a genius with locks and alarms, perfect for this job.

Tracy stepped from the roof of the van onto the top of the wall. She unrolled a scaling ladder and hooked it to the edge of the wall. They both moved down it onto the grass below. The estate appeared vastly different from the way it had looked the evening before, when it was brightly lit and crowded with laughing guests. Now, everything was dark and bleak.

Jean Louis trailed behind Tracy, keeping a fearful watch for the Dobermans.

The chвteau was covered with centuries-old ivy clinging to the wall up to the rooftop. Tracy had casually tested the ivy the evening before. Now, as she put her weight on a vine, it held. She began to climb, scanning the grounds below. There was no sign of the dogs. l hope they stay busy for a long time, she prayed.

When Tracy reached the roof, she signaled to Jean Louis and waited until he climbed up beside her. From the pinpoint light Tracy switched on, they saw a glass skylight, securely locked from below. As Tracy watched, Jean Louis reached into the rucksack on his back and pulled out a small glass cutter. It took him less than a minute to remove the glass.

Tracy glanced down and saw that their way was blocked by a spiderweb of alarm wires. “Can you handle that, Jean?” she whispered.

“Je peux faire зa. No problem.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a foot-long wire with an alligator clamp on each end. Moving slowly, he traced the beginning of the alarm wire, stripped it, and connected the alligator clamp to the end of the alarm. He pulled out a pair of pliers and carefully cut the wire. Tracy tensed herself, waiting for the sound of the alarm, but all was quiet. Jean Louis looked up and grinned. “Voilа. Fini.”

Wrong, Tracy thought. This is just the beginning.

They used a second scaling ladder to climb down through the skylight. So far so good. They had made it safely into the attic. But when Tracy thought of what lay ahead, her heart began to pound.

She pulled out two pairs of red-lens goggles and handed one of them to Jean Louis. “Put these on.”

She had figured out a way to distract the Doberman, but the infrared-ray alarms had proved to be a more difficult problem to solve. Jeff had been correct: The house was crisscrossed with invisible beams. Tracy took several long, deep breaths. Center your energy, your chi. Relax. She forced her mind into a crystal clarity: When a person moves into a beam, nothing happens, but the instant the person moves out of the beam, the sensor detects the difference in temperature and the alarm is set off. It has been set to go off before the burglar opens the safe, leaving him no time to do anything before the police arrive.