life is hard (3)

When Tracy had left, Conrad Morgan sat in the dark in his office, thinking about her. A beautiful woman. Very beautiful, indeed. It was a shame. Perhaps he should have warned her that he was not really that familiar with that particular burglar-alarm system.
"I'll need a blond wig," Tracy said slowly.
"Yes."
"Excellent. There's a train leaving for St. Louis at seven-forty-five A.M. I'll reserve a compartment for you. I'll meet you at the station in St. Louis, you'll turn over the jewels, and I'll give you your twenty-five thousand."
"I would suggest this Saturday night newport cigarettes," Conrad Morgan said. "The staff leaves at noon on Saturdays. I'll arrange a driver's license and a credit card for you in a false name. You'll rent a car here in Manhattan and drive out to Long Island, arriving at eleven o'clock. You'll pick up the jewelry, drive back to New York, and return the car.... You do drive, don't you?"
It's ridiculously simple, Conrad Morgan had said.
What she was doing had the unreality of a dream good luck (9), and she was terrified. What if she were caught? Was the risk worth what she was about to do?
With the thousand dollars that Conrad Morgan advanced her, Tracy purchased two wigs--- one blond and one black, with a multitude of tiny braids. She bought a dark-blue pants suit, black coveralls, and an imitation Gucci valise from a street vendor on Lexington Avenue. So far everything was going smoothly. As Morgan had promised cheap newport cigarettes, Tracy received an envelope containing a driver's license in the name of Ellen Branch, a diagram of the security system in the Bellamy house, the combination to the bedroom safe, and an Amtrak ticket to St. Louis, in a private compartment. Tracy packed her few belongings and left. I'll never live in a place like this again, Tracy promised herself. She rented a car and headed for Long Island. She was on her way to commit a burglary.
He made it all sound so simple.
He wouldn't be involved in anything like this if he weren't sure about it. He has his reputation to protect. I have a reputation, too, Tracy thought bitterly marlboro cigarettes stamp, and it's all bad. Any time a piece of jewelry is missing, I'll be guilty until proven innocent.
This was the moment to say no, to get up and walk out. Walk out to where?