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.
And there, Tracy had decided, was the weakness in the system. She had needed to devise a way to keep the alarm silent until after the safe was opened. At 6:30 in the morning she had found the solution. The burglary was possible, and Tracy had felt that familiar feeling of excitement begin to build within her.
Now, she slipped the infrared goggles on, and instantly everything in the room took on an eerie red glow. In front of the attic door Tracy saw a beam of light that would have been invisible without the glasses.
"Slip under it," she warned Jean Louis. "Careful."
They crawled under the beam and found themselves in a dark hallway leading to Count de Matigny's bedroom. Tracy flicked on the flashlight and led the way. Through the infrared goggles, Tracy saw another light beam, this one low across the threshold of the bedroom door. Gingerly, she jumped over it. Jean Louis was right behind her.
Tracy played her flashlight around the walls, and there were the paintings, impressive, awesome.
Promise to bring me the Leonardo, Gunther had said. And of course the jewelry.
Tracy took down the picture, turned it over, and laid it on the floor. She carefully removed it from its frame, rolled up the vellum, and stored it in her shoulder bag. All that remained now was to get into the safe, which stood in a curtained alcove at the far end of the bedroom.
Tracy opened the curtains. Four infrared lights transversed the alcove, from the floor to the ceiling, crisscrossing one another. It was impossible to reach the safe without breaking one of the beams.