Veering the little car through the sleeping villages and across the unmanned border, Victor arrived on the long stretch that saw cows crossing at any time. Remembering that, Victor started leaning heavily on his horn while pushing the little car faster. The climb up to the Col De La Faucille was an intense pleasure for Victor. The car seemed alive and an embodiment of his hands. Hugging the tight corners and using his hand brakes when the car was about to jump off the side of the mountain in the steep ravine, Victor arrived at the Chalet with five minutes to spare to 04h00. Right on time he thought. He had to help Mafoushka out so shaken was she with the drive. White faced and with a ramrod posture she walked head held high, hoping not to make an ass of herself, again, to the front door of the chalet.

Once inside, victor turned all the lights on, instructed her to get a fire going as it was cold in the early mountain mornings and to make same coffee. He then headed for yet another stack of faxes and telexes that came during the night. That is when he found out that he had some big problems.