At that moment the truck from Brucиre et Cie raced into the warehouse and came to a screaming halt in front of Vauban.
"Here's the last of the cargo," Vauban announced.
"Well, get it aboard," the supervisor snapped.
Vauban supervised the unloading of the container from the truck and sent it onto the bridge leading to the plane.
He waved to the loadmaster. "It's all yours."
Moments later the cargo was aboard, and the nose of the plane was lowered into place. Vauban watched as the jets were fired up and the giant plane started rolling toward the runway, and he thought, Now it's up to the woman.
There was a fierce storm. A giant wave had struck the ship and it was sinking. I'm drowning, Tracy thought. I've got to get out of here.
She flung out her arms and hit something. It was the side of a lifeboat, rocking and swaying. She tried to stand up and cracked her head on the leg of a table. In a moment of clarity she remembered where she was. Her face and hair dripped with perspiration. She felt giddy, and her body was burning up. How long had she been unconscious? It was only an hour's flight. Was the plane about to land? No, she thought. It's all right. I'm having a nightmare. I'm in my bed in London, asleep. I'll call for a doctor. She could not breathe. She struggled upward to reach for a telephone, then immediately sank down, her body leaden. The plane hit a pocket of turbulence, and Tracy was thrown against the side of the box. She lay there, dazed, desperately trying to concentrate. How much time do I have? She wavered between a hellish dream and painful reality. The diamonds. Somehow she had to get the diamonds. But first... first, she had to cut herself out of the pallet.
She touched the knife in her coveralls and found that it was at terrible effort to lift it. Not enough air, Tracy thought. l must have air. She reached around the edge of the canvas, fumbled for one of the outside ropes, found it, and cut it. It seemed to take an eternity. The canvas opened wider. She cut another rope, and there was room enough to slip outside of the container into the belly of the cargo plane. The air outside the box was cold. She was freezing. Her whole body began to shake, and the constant jolting of the plane increased her nausea. I've got to hold on, Tracy thought. She forced herself to concentrate. What am I doing here? Something important... Yes... Diamonds.
Tracy's vision was blurred, and everything was moving in and out of focus. I'm not going to make it.
The plane dipped suddenly, and Tracy was hurled to the floor, scraping her hands on the sharp metal tracks. She held on while the plane bucked, and when it had settled down, she forced herself to her feet again. The roaring of the jet engines was mixed with the roaring in her head. The diamonds. I must find the diamonds.
She stumbled among the containers, squinting at each one, looking for the red paint. Thank God! There it was, on the third container. She stood there, trying to remember what to do next. It was such an effort to concentrate. If I could just lie down and sleep for a few minutes, I'd be fine. All I need is some sleep. But there was no time. They could be landing in Amsterdam at any moment. Tracy took the knife and slashed at the ropes of the container. "One good cut will do it," they had told her.
She barely had the strength to hold the knife in her grasp. l can't fail now, Tracy thought. She began shivering again, and shook so hard that she dropped the knife. It's not going to work. They're going to catch me and put me back in prison.
She hesitated indecisively, clinging to the rope, wanting desperately to crawl back into her box where she could sleep, safely hidden until it was all over. It would be so easy. Then, slowly, moving carefully against the fierce pounding in her head, Tracy reached for the knife and picked it up. She began to slash at the heavy rope.
It finally gave way. Tracy pulled back the canvas and stared into the gloomy interior of the container. She could see nothing. She pulled out the flashlight and, at that moment, she felt a sudden change of pressure in her ears.
The plane was coming down for a landing.
Tracy thought, I've got to hurry. But her body refused to respond. She stood there, dazed. Move, her mind said.
She shone the flashlight into the interior of the box. It was crammed with packages and envelopes and small cases, and on top of a crate were two little blue boxes with red ribbons around them. Two of them! There was only supposed to be - She blinked, and the two boxes merged into one. Everything seemed to have 'a bright aura around it.
She reached for the box and took the duplicate out of her pocket. Holding the two of them in her hand, an overwhelming nausea swept over her, racking her body. She squeezed her eyes together, fighting against it. She started to place the substitute box on top of the case and suddenly realized that she was no longer sure which box was which. She stared at the two identical boxes. Was it the one in her left hand or her right hand?
The plane began a steeper angle of descent. It would touch down at any moment. She had to make a decision. She set down one of the boxes, prayed that it was the right one, and moved away from the container. She fumbled an uncut coil of rope out of her coveralls. There's something I must do with the rope. The roaring in her head made it impossible to think. She remembered: After you cut the rope, put it in your pocket, replace it with the new rope. Don't leave anything around that wilt make them suspicious.
It had sounded so easy then, sitting in the warm sun on the deck of the Bateau Mouche. Now it was impossible. She had no more strength left. The guards would find the cut rope and the cargo would be searched, and she would be caught. Something deep inside her screamed, No! No! No!
With a herculean effort, Tracy began to wind the uncut rope around the container. She felt a jolt beneath her feet as the plane touched the ground, and then another, and she was slammed backward as the jets were thrust into reverse. Her head smashed against the floor and she blacked out.